Arden Hayes slumped against the dorm room desk, his uniform jacket slung over the chair and his glasses fogged from exhaustion. The clock on the wall, because of course there was a clock ticked toward 9:00 PM, each second a reminder of the homework glaring at him from a textbook titled Temporal Basics: Don't Break Reality. The assignment was simple: pause a metronome for exactly ten seconds. Simple, except Arden hadn't managed more than five without that weird ripple screwing things up.
"Stupid time," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. The duel with Jaxon had left him buzzing three-two, his win but Professor Marrow's warning clung like damp clothes. Break things worse. Worse how? He'd already hit Mira with a ball and clipped Jaxon mid-fracture. What was next, accidentally freezing the whole school?
A knock at the door snapped him out of it. "Yo, Hayes, you alive?" Jaxon's voice, muffled but unmistakable.
Arden groaned, dragging himself to open it. Jaxon leaned in the doorway, still in his half-undone uniform, holding two cans of soda. "Figured you owed me one," he said, tossing a can over. "Nice throw today, by the way. My leg's still sore."
"You'll live," Arden said, catching the can with a smirk. He popped it open, the hiss cutting through the room's quiet. "What's up? Don't you have homework too?"
"Done it." Jaxon dropped into the desk chair, spinning it lazily. "Rewinding's easier than stopping less chance of, y'know, breaking reality." He grinned, but his eyes flicked to the metronome on Arden's desk. "You stuck?"
"Maybe." Arden sank onto the bed, sipping the soda. It was lemony, sharper than he expected. "Ten seconds is harder than five. Keeps… wobbling."
"Wobbling, huh? Like in the duel?" Jaxon's grin faded a bit. "Marrow wasn't kidding about fractures. Heard some upperclassmen talking sounded serious."
"Serious how?" Arden leaned forward, suddenly alert. "Like, what's this 'timeline' stuff he keeps mentioning?"
Jaxon shrugged, spinning the chair again. "Dunno exactly. Something about Weavers messing up history if they're not careful. Rogue ones, mostly."
"Rogue ones?" Arden's stomach twisted. Lila's warning from the woods flashed back, bad people, they hunt Weavers like us. "You mean like the cloaked creeps who chased me?"
"Maybe." Jaxon stopped spinning, his voice lower now. "Heard whispers in the halls today. Some Weavers don't play by Academy rules think they can rewrite whatever they want. Wars, disasters, you name it."
Arden stared at him. "Rewrite history? That's… possible?"
"Dunno if it's true." Jaxon cracked a half-smile. "Sounds like a ghost story to scare newbies. But after your little fracture show, I'm not ruling it out."
"Great," Arden muttered, setting the soda down. "So I'm either a screw-up or a history-wrecker. Awesome choices."
"Relax, Hayes. You're not that bad." Jaxon stood, stretching. "Just practice. Get that ten-second pause down, and Marrow'll ease off. Probably."
"Probably," Arden echoed, unconvinced. Jaxon clapped him on the shoulder and headed out, leaving the door half-open and Arden alone with his thoughts.
He turned back to the metronome, its needle swinging with a steady tick-tick-tick. "Alright," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Ten seconds. No wobbles. I can do this."
He focused, picturing the stillness from the duel clean, sharp, no panic. The needle ticked. He reached for his spark, and time froze. The needle stopped, the room silent except for his own breathing. One, two, three… he counted, slow and steady, pushing past five. Six, seven, eight his head throbbed, a faint ripple shimmering in the air nine, ten.
Time snapped back. The metronome ticked on, unbothered. Arden exhaled, a grin breaking through. "Yes!"
Then the ripple hit a tiny lurch, like a hiccup in reality. The soda can on his desk tipped, rolling off and hitting the floor with a clank. Lemon soda pooled across the wood, fizzing softly.
"Crap," Arden whispered, grabbing a towel to mop it up. His grin was gone. Ten seconds, sure, but that ripple again. Always that ripple.
A soft knock at the door made him jump. "Arden?" Lila Voss's voice, quieter than usual. She leaned in, her dark ponytail swinging, green eyes scanning the mess. "Heard you were causing trouble again."
"Not on purpose," he said, tossing the soaked towel aside. "Just… practicing."
She stepped inside, closing the door. "Practicing's good, but you're pushing too hard. Saw it coming." She tapped her temple, smirking. "Future glimpse. You, a spilled drink, and a bad mood."
"You could've warned me," Arden grumbled, sitting back on the bed.
"Would you have listened?" Lila crossed her arms, leaning against the desk. "Look, I heard about your duel. Nice win, but those fractures? Bad news. You need to chill before you break something bigger."
"Like what?" Arden's voice sharpened. "Everyone keeps saying 'timeline' and 'worse,' but no one explains it. Jaxon mentioned rogue Weavers, rewriting history. Is that real?"
Lila's smirk faded, her eyes flicking to the window. "It's real enough. Not my story to tell, though. Marrow'll fill you in when he thinks you're ready."
"Not helpful," Arden said, frustration bubbling up. "You dragged me here, Lila. Least you can do is give me a straight answer."
She sighed, running a hand through her ponytail. "Fine. Short version: some Weavers go dark. They mess with time for power, money, whatever. The Academy trains us to stop them or at least not join them. Your fractures? They're like a neon sign saying 'I'm unstable.' Draws the wrong kind of attention."
"Attention like those cloaked guys in the woods?" Arden asked, voice low.
"Exactly." Lila's gaze hardened. "So get it under control, Hayes. I'm not babysitting you forever."
She turned to leave, but paused at the door. "Oh, and clean that soda up. Smells like a lemonade stand in here."
"Gee, thanks," Arden muttered as she slipped out. He grabbed another towel, scrubbing the floor, but her words stuck like gum on a shoe. Rogue Weavers. Fractures. Attention. He'd wanted answers, but these just made his head spin harder.
The metronome ticked on, steady and indifferent. Arden stared at it, jaw tight. Ten seconds wasn't enough not if he was already flashing warning signs. Whatever this power was, it was bigger than him, and he was running out of time to figure it out.