Riven woke to the smell of bread baking.
It was faint, ordinary, comforting. Real.No loops. No echoes of death. Just life moving forward.
He stepped out of the small inn he had rented at the edge of town. The streets were quiet but alive: the baker setting up his shop, children racing each other down cobbled lanes, a stray cat weaving through their legs.
The world felt forgiving.And yet… he could feel it.
A tremor beneath reality.A tiny ripple in time — subtle, almost imperceptible.A fragment of the paradox had survived.
Riven shook his head. "No. Not here. Not now."
He walked to the town square.
A man selling fruit looked at him strangely, a flicker of recognition in his eyes — gone as quickly as it appeared.A woman paused mid-step, glancing at him with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
The echoes.Remnants of the collapsed loops. Threads that hadn't fully unraveled.
He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the pulse of his own existence — the lingering energy of the Paradox Core still bound to him.
"I'll fix you," he whispered, almost instinctively."Every last one of you."
Riven wandered further, eventually reaching the edge of a forest that bordered the town.The trees were tall and wild, shadows stretching in unpredictable patterns.It was a place untouched by human hands, chaotic, raw — yet familiar, almost like a memory he had never lived.
A figure appeared between the trees.
A young boy, no older than ten, with eyes that shimmered faintly — a trace of temporal energy.He stared at Riven silently, expression unreadable.
"Who… are you?" Riven asked, wary.
The boy tilted his head. "I… remember you. Or maybe you're just… familiar."
Riven's pulse quickened. This was no ordinary child. The paradox was alive here, in him."I'm… someone who wants to help," he said softly. "Do you understand what's happening?"
The boy shook his head slowly. "Not fully. But I feel it. The world… It's trying to forget itself. And you… You carry it all."
Riven nodded grimly. "Then we'll walk together. I'll teach you how to hold it — how to survive it."
The boy smiled faintly. Something about the gesture reminded Riven of Lira — a flicker of hope, a reminder that even echoes could guide him forward.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the first stars began to appear.
Riven climbed a small hill, the boy beside him.He looked at the new sky — constellations unfamiliar, chaotic, beautiful.And he realized something:
This world was alive, but fragile. The paradox had left its fingerprints.He could feel the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. Not just to live, but to protect, nurture, and guide.
"I may be alone," he whispered to the wind."But I am not helpless. And I will not let this world… fall."
The boy looked up at him, eyes wide and steady.
"Then we'll start, together."
Riven nodded, a faint smile breaking through the lingering sorrow.
The new dawn was quiet, imperfect, alive — and for the first time in centuries, he felt… home.