Anchor 1857.3X – Inner Sanctum, Meiji Clockforge
[TEMPORAL COLLAPSE IN: 93 SECONDS]
The Time Core pulsed like a dying star above them — unstable, screaming through space and memory. Every flicker revealed another life, another child, another Kael.
Ghost Ronin and Kael Voss ran through collapsing corridors as time flickered between moments: 1857, 2103, 3066, and once — the end of all time.
"No turning back now," Kael gasped, clutching his side. The stab wound was worse than he'd admitted, but adrenaline — and existential panic — kept him upright.
"We don't need to turn back," Ronin said, leaping over a floating stair made of frozen seconds. "We just need to cut the Core's tether to the Empire's chronogrid."
"And then what? Hope it doesn't eat reality on the way out?"
They reached the Core's chamber — a hollow sphere rotating within concentric rings of bronze, code, and stardust. Suspended inside, curled into a fetal position, floated a boy.
Not Myra.
Not someone Kael recognized.
But he looked like… all of them. He felt like all of them.
Ghost Ronin pressed a sigil on the floor and turned to Kael. "His name is Aren. He's a ChronoSeed. Engineered by the Empire to stabilize unstable timelines by becoming their savior. A living narrative patch."
Kael frowned. "You mean… he's a story?"
"He's every story. Fed into him. Weaponized against entropy."
Suddenly, Kael's comm buzzed. Myra's voice. Desperate.
> "You need to stop! If you sever the Core without anchoring his thread, Aren will scatter across the continuum — into every version of every world. He'll be lost... forever."
Ghost Ronin raised his blade.
Kael stepped between him and the Core.
"Wait. There's a better way. Myra said she remembers futures. She can map Aren's natural thread — let him grow his own destiny, not the one we impose."
Ronin stared at Kael. Torn.
"...You really think you're better than me, don't you?" he whispered.
Kael shook his head. "No. I think maybe... we don't have to be worse than this."
For a breathless moment, time stabilized. The whirring slowed.
Ronin lowered his sword.
And Kael reached into the beam of the Core, placing his hand against the chrono-barrier.
He thought only of Aren.
Of Myra.
Of all the stories that could still be told.
The Core pulsed one last time—then dissolved into golden light.
Aren floated down like a feather.
Breathing.
Free.
---
Anchor 1857.3X — TEMPORAL COLLAPSE: CANCELLED
Stability Rating: NORMALIZED
---
Later, sitting under a flickering streetlight outside the Forge ruins, Kael and Ghost Ronin shared silence.
"So what now?" Kael asked.
Ronin shrugged. "We broke a loop. Doesn't mean the Weavers will like it."
"Let them come," Kael said, standing. "We'll be ready."
From the shadows, Myra stepped out, holding Aren's hand.
"We're going to need more Kaels."
Kael cracked a grin. "Then it's time to find the rest of us."