The wind howled as we rode through the empty streets on stolen bikes. The neon signs flickered, casting eerie glows over the cracked pavement. The town was quiet—too quiet—like it knew we didn't belong here.
The motel stood on the edge of town, a rundown two-story building with peeling paint and a flickering "Vacancy" sign. Room 206. That's where Vanessa had stayed. That's where the answers were.
We ditched the bikes a block away and moved in on foot. No lights. No noise. If they were watching, we couldn't let them know we were here.
Peter leaned against a rusted dumpster, catching his breath. "This is fucking stupid."
"Yeah?" I whispered back. "So is getting killed because we don't know shit."
Serina ignored us both and picked the lock on the door. Click. The door creaked open.
The room smelled like dust and old cigarette smoke. A single bed sat in the middle, the sheets crumpled like someone had left in a hurry. A nightstand, a broken TV, and a suitcase half-open on the floor.
But what caught my attention was the writing on the walls.
Scrawled in black marker, covering every inch of the motel room. Symbols. Names. Warnings. Some were in English. Some in Latin. Some in a language I didn't recognize.
Serina's breath hitched. "Oh my god…"
I stepped closer, my eyes scanning the words. Then I saw it.
"Arthur Cardigan will break the cycle."
I froze. My stomach twisted into a knot.
Peter saw it too. He turned to me, his face pale. "What the hell does that mean?"
I had no answer. My name was written here before I even got here.
Serina grabbed the journal from my hands and flipped through the pages, comparing the notes. "Vanessa… she knew something."
I moved to the nightstand and yanked it open. Inside, a cassette tape.
Labeled in shaky handwriting: "Play Me."
My fingers trembled as I picked it up. "We need a player."
Peter turned to the broken TV stand and ripped open a drawer. "Got one." He pulled out a dusty Walkman.
I shoved the tape in, pressed play, and held my breath.
A voice crackled through the static.
"…Arthur, if you're hearing this, then they know you exist."
My heart pounded.
"…You have to listen carefully. You were never supposed to be born."
Peter's eyes widened.
The voice trembled, full of fear. "The Dusk Society has been trying to control the rebirth cycle for centuries. Your father was supposed to be their final prophet. But when he disappeared… they turned to you."
The tape glitched, the audio warping.
"…You are the key, Arthur. But if they get you—"
A loud BANG outside the motel.
We all froze.
Footsteps. Getting closer.
Peter cursed. "They fucking found us."
Serina grabbed my arm. "Arthur, we need to move."
The tape kept playing.
"…They will use you… to open the gate…"
Another bang—this time, right outside the door.
Peter pulled out his knife. Serina grabbed the vial from my pocket.
The door handle started turning.
I clenched my fists.
This was it.
No more running.
The door creaked as the handle twisted. Shadows moved under the gap at the bottom.
Serina's grip tightened around the vial. Peter raised his knife, his breathing heavy.
I pressed the fast-forward button on the Walkman, my fingers shaking. If there was more, I needed to hear it now.
The door slammed open.
A tall man in a long black coat stood in the doorway, his face hidden under the hood. Behind him, two others. Silent. Motionless. Watching.
The tape crackled.
"Arthur… they don't want you dead."
My blood ran cold.
"They need you alive."
The hooded man took a step inside. "Arthur Cardigan," he said, his voice calm. "Come with us."
I didn't move.
Serina's fingers hovered over the vial's cap. Peter held his knife tight.
The man sighed. "I don't think you understand. This isn't a choice."
Peter lunged.
Fast.
Too fast.
But the hooded man was faster.
Before Peter's knife could reach him, the man grabbed his wrist, twisted, and sent Peter crashing into the nightstand with a sickening thud.
Peter groaned, struggling to move.
Serina popped the cap off the vial. "Arthur, NOW!"
The man rushed toward me—
I grabbed the vial and stabbed it into my arm.
The liquid burned as it entered my bloodstream.
The world blurred.
Everything warped.
The hooded man reached for me—
But before his fingers touched my skin, the motel room ripped apart.
Colors bled into each other. The air screamed.
And then—
Silence.
I wasn't in the motel anymore.
I wasn't anywhere.
I was floating.
The world around me was black, shifting like smoke. Shapes flickered in and out of existence—faces, places, moments.
I saw Vanessa.
She was standing in front of a mirror, holding the same vial. Her eyes met mine through the void.
"You finally made it," she whispered.
I tried to move, but I had no body. Just thoughts. Just consciousness.
"What is this?" My voice sounded distant, like it wasn't even mine.
Vanessa's image glitched. "The space between timelines. This is where the choice is made."
"The choice?"
She nodded. "You don't just travel through time, Arthur. You rewrite it."
My heart pounded.
Rewrite it?
She took a step closer. "That's why they need you. You're not just someone with rathadium in your blood. You're the only one who can undo what's been done."
I stared at her. "Undo… what?"
Vanessa's face darkened.
"The sacrifices. The blood rituals. The cycle of rebirth."
My chest tightened.
"Arthur…" she whispered. "They're going to make you open the gate."
I felt something pulling me back.
The darkness ripped apart.
I was falling—
And then—
I woke up.
I gasped, sitting up.
The motel was gone. The hooded man was gone.
Serina was next to me, shaking me awake. "Arthur! Arthur, wake up!"
Peter groaned nearby, rubbing his head. "What the fuck just happened?"
I looked around.
The buildings… the streets… the neon lights were gone.
Everything was older. Dustier. Like a town frozen in time.
And then I saw it.
A newspaper lying in the dirt beside me.
The date?
December 7, 1958.
Peter stared at it. "Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me."
Serina exhaled sharply. "Arthur… this isn't the 80s anymore."
My hands clenched into fists.
The Dusk Society didn't just want me to travel through time.
They wanted me to go back to where it all began.
The wind howled through the empty streets. A flickering streetlamp barely lit the cracked pavement beneath us.
Serina gripped my arm. "Arthur, we need to move. Now."
Peter was still staring at the newspaper. "December 7, 1958…" he muttered. His hands trembled. "What the hell happened this year?"
I looked around. The town was eerily quiet—too quiet. No cars, no voices, just the distant creaking of an old sign swaying in the wind.
Something wasn't right.
I turned to Serina. "You said the Dusk Society wanted me to open the gate. What gate? What the hell are they trying to do?"
She hesitated. "I don't know everything yet, but Vanessa said this was the year it all started. The year your father was chosen."
My blood ran cold.
Chosen?
Peter scoffed. "Great. And what, we're just stuck here now?"
Serina reached into her jacket and pulled out another small vial—this one a dull red. "This should let us jump again, but we can't use it yet."
I frowned. "Why not?"
She sighed. "Because we don't know what we're supposed to do here. If we jump without figuring it out, we could be stuck in the wrong timeline forever."
A sudden noise echoed down the street.
A soft clicking sound.
Footsteps.
Not just one person.
Several.
My chest tightened.
Peter cursed under his breath. "We're not alone."
From the shadows of a nearby alley, figures emerged.
Tall, dressed in long coats, their faces hidden by wide-brimmed hats. Their footsteps were too synchronized, too controlled.
They stopped a few feet away.
One of them, the tallest, stepped forward. His voice was smooth, deliberate. "Arthur Cardigan."
I didn't answer.
He tilted his head slightly. "You've come far, haven't you?"
Serina tensed beside me. Peter clenched his fists.
I swallowed hard. "Who the hell are you?"
The man chuckled. "We are the Sentinels. We are here to ensure that history unfolds as it should."
I took a step back. "And what does that mean?"
The Sentinel's smile widened. "It means you have a choice. You can fulfill your role… or you can be erased."
I felt my heartbeat in my throat.
Serina whispered, "Arthur… we need to run."
Peter reached for his knife. "Yeah? And where?"
The Sentinel raised a hand.
The others stepped forward.
A low hum filled the air.
And then—
The streetlights shattered.
Darkness swallowed the town.
And they came for us.