The vortex at the heart of the storm pulsed like a living thing, writhing and twisting in ways that defied all reason. The wind screamed through the ruins, the air thick with raw energy—thick enough to choke the breath from their lungs. Every step forward felt like moving through water, as if time itself resisted their presence.
Caius could feel it in his bones. The Chronomancer's Heart burned hot in his grip, the artifact humming in resonance with the storm. The closer they got, the more the lines between past, present, and future blurred. Phantoms of warriors long dead flickered into existence, only to vanish moments later. The ruined towers reassembled and collapsed in endless cycles, trapped in their own loop of destruction.
Selene, ever sharp-eyed, reached out to grab his arm. "Caius, look!"
He turned just in time to see the storm shift. The vortex split open, revealing something within—a structure, ancient and crumbling, standing impossibly at the storm's core. It wasn't just a ruin. It was the palace, or what remained of it.
"The Royal Citadel," Aldric whispered, eyes wide with recognition. "Or at least, what's left of it."
Elias furrowed his brow. "This isn't just a storm. This place… It's the wound."
Caius understood immediately. The storm wasn't merely a temporal disturbance—it was a scar, a tear in the very fabric of time, centered on the very palace where the kingdom had once stood. Whatever had been done here in the past, whatever catastrophe had shattered time itself, this was the origin point.
And if they had any hope of fixing it, they had to step inside.
Caius swallowed hard. "No turning back."
Aldric nodded. "Agreed. We will finish this."
Together, they advanced.
The moment their feet crossed the threshold of the ruined citadel, the world shifted.
One instant, they were in the storm-ravaged ruins, but in the next, they were somewhere else entirely. The walls were whole, pristine, adorned with banners and torches that flickered with golden fire. The air smelled of incense and polished stone, and the silence was absolute.
They were in the past.
Caius spun on his heel, but the entrance behind them was gone. There was no storm, no ruin—only the royal halls, standing as they had once been.
Selene placed a hand on her sword. "This is…"
A voice interrupted her.
"So, you have come."
The voice was deep, commanding—filled with the weight of centuries. Caius turned toward the grand throne at the far end of the hall, where a lone figure stood waiting.
The man wore regal armor, his cloak draped over one shoulder like a king of old. His face was eerily familiar, though age and power had sharpened it. His gaze locked onto Caius with a knowing intensity, his expression unreadable.
Caius felt his breath catch in his throat. He knew that face.
It was him.
An older version of himself.
The realization struck like a hammer.
Elias stiffened. "Impossible…"
Aldric's grip on his sword tightened. "What sorcery is this?"
But Caius already knew the truth.
This wasn't sorcery. This was his future self. A version of him who had walked this path before and had failed.
And now, he was here to stop himself.
The older Caius stepped forward, his movements slow and deliberate. He radiated power, the air around him shimmering as if time itself warped at his presence. His armor was unlike anything Caius had ever seen—woven with strands of light and shadow, etched with runes that pulsed with an eerie glow.
"I have been waiting," his voice was calm, but there was an undeniable weight to it. "For you. For this moment."
Selene stepped between them, drawing her blades. "Caius, don't go near him."
The older Caius tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Selene," he said, almost gently. "You always were the first to act. Always the first to draw steel." His gaze flickered to her hands. "And yet… you never could strike me down."
Selene's grip on her swords tightened. "You are not him."
"No," the older Caius agreed. "Not anymore."
Caius took a step forward, his chest tight. "What is this? Why are you here?"
The older version of himself studied him for a long moment before speaking.
"This," he gestured around them, "is the moment where everything went wrong. The heart of the storm. The moment that shattered time." He exhaled. "I stood where you stood once. I fought, I bled, I tried to stop it." His gaze darkened. "And I failed."
A deep chill crept into Caius's bones. "Failed?"
The older Caius gave a small, bitter smile. "I tried to fix time. But instead… I became its master."
The words sent a ripple of unease through the group. Aldric finally spoke, voice gruff. "You're saying you caused this?"
"I didn't cause it," the older Caius corrected. "I became part of it. When the kingdom fell, when the Heart's power was unleashed, I made a choice. A terrible choice." He lifted a gloved hand, and the air around it froze. The torches stilled mid-flicker, the dust hanging motionless.
"I thought I could control it. But time is not meant to be controlled. It is meant to flow."
Elias took a wary step forward. "Then let it go. Help us fix this."
The older Caius's eyes darkened. "No."
The word was final.
"I have seen the futures, Elias. All of them. In every path, every thread of fate… I lose you. I lose her." He glanced at Selene, and for the briefest moment, something pained flickered across his face. "And so I chose differently. I chose to hold time still."
Caius clenched his fists. "That's not saving anyone. That's erasing the future."
The older version of himself exhaled slowly. "Perhaps." His gaze locked onto Caius. "And yet, here you are. A version of me that still hopes. That still believes in the flow of time." He took a step closer. "So I will give you a choice."
The air seemed to grow heavier, the walls warping as if reality itself bent to his will.
"You can fight me, as I once fought against my future." He gestured to the throne. "Or… you can accept what I have built. You can take your place as the guardian of time."
Silence.
Selene's voice was a whisper. "Caius…"
Caius stared at the man he might one day become. The weight of destiny pressed down on him. He had fought so hard to understand time, to wield its power.
But was he fighting fate itself?
His future self extended a hand. "What will it be?"
Caius inhaled sharply. His choice here would decide everything.
And time was running out.