The door opened on silence.
Hope stood frozen in her apartment's threshold, heart thundering in her chest, the dim light behind her flickering as if reacting to the presence on the other side.
But what stood before her wasn't a person — not at first.
It was a shadow. Humanoid in shape, tall and narrow, its features smoothed into nothingness. Its body rippled like black glass as though it were made of melted obsidian, and yet its presence was crushing. Hope's breath caught in her throat as the pendant around her neck began to sear her skin.
Cleo stood behind her, wide-eyed, whispering, "Hope… close it. Close the door. Now."
But Hope couldn't move. Something deeper than fear held her still — something ancient. The shadow stepped forward, pressing against an invisible threshold, as if testing it. Then, without sound, its head tilted.
It looked at her.
Not at her face. Not her body.
At her soul.
The air split.
A rip of light tore through the space between them — and the shadow disintegrated in a single heartbeat, consumed by a blade of silver flame that crashed into the hallway like lightning.
Hope fell backward, screaming. Cleo ducked just in time as a figure stepped through the smoke and ash, his silhouette framed by light.
He was tall, wrapped in armor the color of dusk, with eyes glowing silver-blue like dying stars. Steam rose from the blade in his hand — a longsword that crackled with shifting glyphs and whispered in a tongue Hope couldn't understand.
"Time wraith," the stranger muttered, lowering his weapon. "And this early…"
Cleo scrambled up. "Who the hell are you?!"
The stranger ignored her and turned to Hope.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't want to meet like this."
Hope stared at him. Her lungs barely worked.
"You were at the bookstore," she whispered. "I saw you… watching me."
He gave a slight nod. "Yes. I've been watching for some time."
Cleo stepped in between them, trembling with fury. "Back off. You don't get to stalk her and then crash in like some time-traveling savior."
"I'm not here to hurt her," he said gently. "Quite the opposite."
He stepped forward, and Hope saw something strange happen — the light bent around him, warping slightly. It was like reality resisted his presence.
"What… are you?" she asked.
The man slowly sheathed his sword.
"My name is Duke Silver. I am a Silver Dragon, a creature from the world of Azure. I've lived through seven timelines. In all but this one, you died before the world ended."
Hope's knees nearly buckled.
Cleo gaped. "This guy's nuts, Hope."
Hope didn't answer. She couldn't.
The pendant around her neck cracked fully in half — a quiet, resonating sound like a church bell ringing far underwater.
A sudden warmth bloomed in her chest.
Duke's eyes widened. "It's starting."
Hope gasped. "What is?!"
"Your Constitution," he said. "Your magic. It's waking up."
Cleo looked between them, then down at Hope's chest, where a thin thread of silver light now glowed from beneath her shirt.
"You have to leave this place," Duke said. "Now. They'll be coming. Shadows, artifacts, even the High Immortals. Once your power stirs, they'll smell it. And they'll try to claim it."
Hope staggered to her feet. "Claim… what?"
"You, Hope," he said. "They want you."
The streets of Natalia City were quieter than usual as the trio made their way through the old back alleys. The storm that had threatened earlier now loomed in full, dark clouds swirling overhead, rumbling with thunder. Floating lanterns flickered wildly as spirit energy surged in unnatural pulses.
Hope barely registered the neon-blue signs and rune-washed alleys they passed. Her thoughts swirled in chaos. Everything Duke said felt like a dream.
Ancient Magic Constitution. Power sealed since birth. People wanting her dead or worse.
"How do you know all this?" she finally asked.
Duke walked beside her, posture straight, eyes scanning the shadows.
"Because in my first life, Natalia destroyed my world."
Hope blinked. "Natalia? You mean the woman who looks like me?"
"Yes," he said grimly. "In most timelines, she doesn't meet you. In others, she kills you the moment she realizes you exist. You are her weakness, Hope — or her successor. No one's sure which."
Cleo scoffed. "This sounds insane."
Duke stopped and faced them. Rain began to fall, slow and steady.
"Insane or not, the moment her blood recognized yours, the world began to shift. And now you're caught in a war far older than either of you."
Hope rubbed her temples. "Why does she look like me?"
"That… is still unclear," he admitted. "Some say she cloned herself. Others believe you are a vessel made by the Immortals to balance her. I've even seen theories that you're her daughter reborn."
Hope's stomach turned. "I don't want to be anyone's clone or weapon or prophecy. I just want my life back."
Duke's expression softened. "I know. But you're more than a name now. You carry the last Ancient Magic Constitution — a living source of infinite spirit power. You could rewrite the weave of reality if you live long enough to master it."
Hope stared at him, rainwater running down her face. "Then teach me."
He paused.
"I thought you'd run."
"I'm terrified," she said. "But running won't stop her. And I need answers."
Meanwhile…
High atop the eastern cliffs of Natalia City, in a tower carved from celestial stone, Natalia Taylor stood alone, blade in hand, eyes fixed on the horizon.
She felt it. The shift. The crack in the weave.
Hope had awakened.
Not fully, not yet. But the pressure was unmistakable — a familiar magic pressing against her own, tugging at something buried so deep within her chest that she hadn't felt it in decades.
She gritted her teeth.
"Damn it, Duke. You interfered."
She turned as her trusted specter, Verin, emerged from the wall.
"You called, Lady Taylor?"
"Deploy the Eyes," she ordered. "I want her location within the hour. And bring me everything we have on spirit vessels and the Ancient Constitution."
Verin hesitated. "The Immortals won't be pleased."
"They can rot," she snapped. "They created this mess. I'll clean it up."
"And if she resists?"
Natalia looked out over the city — her city — and clenched her fists.
"Then I will do what I've always done."
"Conquer?"
"Survive."
Back in the slums of Lower Spire, Duke led Hope and Cleo into a hidden enclave beneath the ruins of an old mage academy — the Sanctum of Threads, a resistance haven laced with time-bending protections.
The space buzzed with soft light from crystals embedded in the walls. Tall shelves held artifacts wrapped in linen and iron seals. Circles drawn in chalk flickered with warding glyphs.
A few robed figures turned as they entered — warriors, researchers, and renegade mages from across the known realms.
"Duke," one of them said, "she's the one?"
"Yes," Duke confirmed.
Whispers followed.
Hope felt their eyes on her — not hostile, but not quite warm either. Like they were watching a bomb that hadn't exploded yet.
"Are they with us?" she asked.
"They don't know yet," Duke replied.
Hope bit her lip. "Great."
He motioned toward a central chamber — a hollow dome filled with glowing runes. Inside hovered a massive, ancient device: a floating globe encased in broken rings of metal and crystal, spinning slowly.
"The Timeworn Compass," Duke said reverently. "It's linked to every major temporal fracture across the realms. We use it to track shifts, loops, and anomalies."
Hope looked at it, the lights reflecting in her wide eyes. "It's beautiful."
"It's also unstable," said a voice behind them.
Hope turned to see a woman approaching — tall, cloaked in crimson, with eyes like flickering candles. Her presence radiated command.
"This is Sister Elira," Duke said. "She's a high mage of the Order of Lucent Flame and one of the few who still believes the world can be saved."
Elira gave Hope a curt nod. "We've waited a long time for someone like you."
"I didn't ask for this," Hope said quietly.
Elira smiled faintly. "No one does."
As the Compass pulsed, an alarm rune flared red on the far wall. The ground shook. Everyone froze.
Duke rushed to the console. "A temporal spike… in the west sector."
Elira paled. "That's Natalia's territory."
Hope stepped forward. "What does that mean?"
Duke's voice was tight.
"It means she's coming."