The sun was warm here.
The sky was soft.
Birds chirped. Magic hummed gently in the wind. It was a world where nothing had gone wrong.
For the first time in what felt like lifetimes, Callen Ward could breathe.
Isora sat beside him on the stone steps of this world's Aethenhold, leaning against his shoulder. No armor. No blood. Just the scent of jasmine in her hair and the quiet, content thrum of her pulse.
"You found me," she said again, softly.
Callen's fingers brushed hers. "You remembered me."
She held up the pendant—the blackened rune-marked charm that had once tethered their souls.
"I remembered enough," she said. "A fire. A loop. Your voice. I didn't know if it was real or if I was losing my mind."
He laughed quietly. "You weren't. I was."
They sat like that until the sun began to set.
Then Isora asked the question he'd been dreading.
> "What happens now?"
---
They walked through the quiet Academy gardens. It was peaceful. Too peaceful.
No Chronovore. No monsters. No Halem.
And no tether to hold the world together.
Which meant one thing.
"This thread," Callen murmured, "is fragile. It's not… real."
Isora looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
"It's a refuge," he said. "A forgotten dream created by the loop itself. A last echo where nothing ever went wrong. I think I didn't find it by accident—I think the pendant pulled me here. It found a version of you it could still reach."
Isora stopped walking.
Her voice was quiet, but sharp. "Are you saying this world isn't meant to exist?"
Callen turned to her. "It's beautiful. But it's borrowed. I can feel it. There's something beneath it."
She looked around.
Students laughed in the distance. Trees rustled. Bells chimed softly from the towers.
It all felt perfect.
Too perfect.
Then she whispered, "It's a cage, isn't it?"
He nodded.
"A golden one."
---
That night, Callen dreamed.
But it wasn't a dream.
It was Halem.
The broken soul, bound to nothing now, flickering at the edge of existence.
He appeared in the same ruined robe. Golden eyes dulled, skin translucent.
> "You found her," Halem said. "But you're not done."
Callen clenched his fists. "I don't care. We're safe. I won."
Halem floated closer. The dream-world trembled around him.
> "You didn't win. You paused. This thread is a bandage on a wound that hasn't healed. And the Second Hourglass still ticks."
Callen's eyes narrowed. "What Second Hourglass?"
Halem's voice was quieter now. "The one I never told you about. The fail-safe. The one the Chronovore made."
> "When you shattered the first anchor, it didn't die. It escaped—into a deeper space. And now it's waiting."
Callen stepped back. "Why should I believe you?"
"Because you remember," Halem said. "And she does too. You're still Fixed. Which means the Chronovore still fears you."
Callen's heart twisted.
"If I leave this world," he said, "I might never find her again."
Halem's expression softened.
> "Or you'll find her again—every time. If you choose to remember."
Then the dream shattered.
---
Morning came.
Callen and Isora stood on the hilltop outside the gates.
The sky looked cracked, like something underneath was pressing through.
She saw it too.
"So," she said, "this was never meant to last."
Callen nodded. "But it was real."
She took his hand.
"If we leave, we may not remember each other again."
He looked at her.
"Then let's not leave each other."
She smiled.
And they stepped through the veil together.
---
The Path Back
Returning to reality wasn't like Threadwalking.
It was like falling through the center of yourself.
The peace peeled away.
The magic grew harsh. Wild. Chaotic.
They landed hard.
Smoke. Screams. The smell of ozone.
The world was not at peace.
It was burning again.
---
They were back in the true timeline—the one they'd tried to save.
But it was worse now.
Aether storms cracked through the sky. Magic tore itself apart in the air. The Academy was a ruin.
But they were alive.
Callen looked down. The pendant glowed faintly.
Not black.
Red.
Isora stood beside him, staff already drawn.
"I remember," she said. "Everything. Every version. Every thread."
Callen's heart raced. "Then we have a chance."
A shadow moved above them.
Not the Knight.
Not the Chronovore.
But something larger.
The Second Hourglass—a structure—floated in the sky, its core dripping temporal ichor.
A voice echoed from it.
> "You broke the loop. Now break the chain."
Callen looked to Isora.
She nodded.
"No more running," she said.
They raised their hands.
And prepared to burn the sky.