The stars did not move.
Elian noticed it just before dawn, when the night should have been loosening its grip on the sky. The constellations hung frozen, sharp and unmoving, as if painted onto glass.
"Mara," he said quietly. "Look."
She followed his gaze and frowned. "Either I didn't sleep at all… or something's wrong with the sky."
Teren was already awake, seated cross-legged at the edge of the road. His staff lay across his knees, his expression grim. "We've stepped onto the Stillway," he said. "A road between moments."
Elian felt a chill despite the mild air. The road beneath them looked unchanged, but the world beyond it had gone strangely inert. The tall grass at the edges stood rigid, every blade caught mid-bend. A bird hovered above the plain, wings spread, unmoving.
"Is time… stopped?" Mara asked.
"Not stopped," Teren replied. "Held."
They walked.
Their footsteps sounded wrong—too loud, echoing into a silence that swallowed everything else. Elian waved a hand through the air and felt resistance, like pushing against water.
After several minutes, he became aware of another sensation: memories rising unbidden, sharp and vivid. Not painful like on the Road of Echoes. Clear. Precise.
He saw himself at twelve, standing at a crossroads outside Kareth, arguing with his father about leaving the village. He heard his own words—I'll come back soon. He never had.
Elian staggered.
Mara caught his arm. "It's showing you the moments you rushed past," she said, voice tight. "I see mine too."
Ahead, the road widened into a vast circular platform of pale stone. At its center stood a structure like a clock without hands—a ring of stone arches, each engraved with symbols that pulsed faintly.
Figures stood beneath the arches.
They were motionless, like statues, yet unmistakably alive. A soldier with his sword raised. A woman mid-step, tears suspended on her cheek. A child reaching for a falling cup.
"Who are they?" Elian whispered.
"Those who tried to change what had already passed," Teren said. "And stayed."
Mara's jaw tightened. "They're trapped."
"Yes," Teren said softly. "Because the Stillway offers a terrible temptation."
As if summoned by the words, a voice echoed from the arches—calm, ageless, everywhere at once.
Traveler of many roads, it said. You may rest here. Choose a moment. Remain within it. Perfect it.
The air shimmered. One arch brightened, revealing a scene from Elian's life—the sickroom, his father lying pale against the pillows. This time, his father was smiling. Strong. Alive.
Elian's breath caught. His feet moved before he realized it.
Mara grabbed his sleeve. "Elian. Don't."
"He's alive," Elian said hoarsely. "This road could—"
"—keep you," Teren finished. "Forever."
The voice spoke again. What is eternity, if not one perfect moment, endlessly preserved?
Mara laughed bitterly. "It's a lie. That's what it is."
Another arch flared to life, showing Mara standing at the edge of a burning village. In this version, she stayed. Fought. Saved them.
Her hands trembled.
The pressure of the place deepened, pressing choice upon choice. Elian felt time pulling at him from all directions—forward, backward, inward.
"What if eternity isn't ahead?" the voice whispered. What if you already passed it?
Teren struck his staff against the stone. The sound cracked through the stillness like thunder. "Enough," he said. "This road is not meant to be lived on—only crossed."
The arches darkened slightly, resisting.
Elian looked at the frozen figures again. Their faces were peaceful—but empty. He understood then: they were not living their chosen moments. They were being erased by them.
He stepped back from the arch. "If I stay," he said, "I stop becoming."
The voice paused.
Mara took a deep breath and turned away from her vision. "The past doesn't need fixing," she said. "It needs remembering."
One by one, the arches dimmed.
The platform began to crack, fine lines spreading through the stone like ice over water. The frozen grass at the edges shuddered. The bird in the sky dropped suddenly, beating its wings in startled fury.
Time rushed back in.
Elian gasped as sound, wind, and motion slammed into him all at once. The sun crested the horizon, spilling gold across the plain.
They staggered forward as the Stillway collapsed behind them, the circular platform crumbling into dust that scattered on the wind.
For a long while, none of them spoke.
Finally, Mara broke the silence. "I hate that road."
Teren smiled faintly. "As you should. It teaches the most dangerous lesson of all."
Elian looked down at his hands, steady now, real. "That eternity without change isn't eternity," he said.
Teren nodded. "It's a cage."
Ahead, the First Road reformed once more, narrowing into a single path that vanished into morning light.
Elian stepped forward, heart pounding—not with fear, but with resolve.
Time moved again.
And so did they.