Riven couldn't sleep.
Every time he closed his eyes, he heard it — a faint clicking, like the gears of a broken clock turning out of sync.It wasn't in his mind. It was inside the world.
He stood on the balcony of the inn, staring at the town bathed in moonlight.Everything was still. Too still.Not even the wind moved.
Then he saw it.
A man across the street walked into the light — and froze mid-step.Not like time had stopped, but as if the man had forgotten how to exist.
Riven's heart thudded. He blinked, and the man continued walking, unaware.
"It's spreading," he muttered.
At dawn, he gathered supplies and went back to the forest with the boy.
"If the fractures are forming, we need to find where they start," Riven said.
The boy nodded silently, clutching a small device Riven had built the night before — a simple chronometer attuned to the paradox energy.It pulsed faintly in his hands, like a heartbeat.
The deeper they went, the quieter the forest became.Even the birds were gone.
And then, they found it — an open clearing, perfectly circular, the grass inside flattened and colorless.At its center floated a faint shimmer, like heat rising from asphalt.
"The fracture point," Riven whispered.
He took a cautious step forward.
Instantly, the air vibrated. Images flickered across the clearing — scenes from the looped timelines: Lira smiling, cities burning, his own reflection screaming in silence.Each image lasted less than a second, but each hit like a memory being torn from his chest.
"It's… the past trying to bleed through," Riven said, his voice shaking.
The boy clutched his arm. "Can we stop it?"
Riven took a deep breath. "Maybe. But not without waking… something."
He approached the center, eyes fixed on the shimmer.The chronometer in the boy's hands began to beep rapidly, glowing brighter and brighter.
"Back up," Riven said sharply. "Now!"
The air rippled outward like a shockwave — and suddenly, everything went quiet.
No sound. No motion.Just a stillness so heavy it pressed against Riven's chest like stone.
Then, in the silence, a voice.Faint. Familiar.
"Riven…"
His blood ran cold.He knew that voice.
"Lira?"
The shimmer shifted, forming a distorted silhouette — not fully her, but something wearing her memory.Her voice was warped, fragmented.
"You shouldn't be here… It's waking… You must run…"
Riven's throat tightened. "What's waking?"
Before she could answer, the shimmer twisted violently — forming a vortex of light and static.Riven grabbed the boy and threw him back just as the clearing exploded in a burst of temporal energy.
When the light faded, half the forest was gone.Only ash remained where the fracture had pulsed.
The boy coughed weakly beside him. "What… what was that?"
Riven stood slowly, his body trembling. "Not a memory. Not an echo."He looked toward the smoldering crater, eyes narrowing.
"Something survived the collapse. Something alive."
He could feel it — a presence, cold and deliberate, buried deep within the timelines. Watching. Waiting.
And as the first sunlight broke through the clouds, Riven whispered:
"It's not over. The paradox… It's learning."