Damien's mind was spinning. The Fatekeeper's words reverberated in his thoughts like an insistent drumbeat, demanding his attention. A mysterious being who had seen the threads of time. A being who could help him fix the chaos he had unwittingly caused. It was a lot to take in, but there was little time to waste. The rift was growing stronger with every moment he hesitated, and Damien knew that, whether he liked it or not, he had to move forward.
He glanced around the ethereal space, feeling the weight of the distortion pressing in from all sides. It was almost suffocating. He was in no position to make a decision based on nothing. The Fatekeeper hadn't given him much information—just a cryptic warning and a vague suggestion to find someone who could help him.
He slithered through the shifting mists, trying to focus his mind on the task at hand. The thought of finding this mysterious being felt like trying to search for a single thread in a tangled, endless web. Yet, there was something about the way the Fatekeeper had spoken that made Damien think this person—or entity—wasn't so unreachable.
"Focus. You need to find this person. It's the only way forward."
Damien couldn't ignore the pull of the Rift inside him. It felt alive, writhing and stretching, its influence causing the very air to warp around him. The threads of time twisted and quivered, but he had to push through it.
---
It didn't take long for Damien to feel the change. The ethereal mists around him began to grow denser, the temperature dropping, the very essence of the space warping in strange ways. The familiar sensation of temporal energy pulsed in the air, sharper now—more focused.
Suddenly, the world before him seemed to shimmer. The mist parted, revealing a path. It was subtle, almost as if the very fabric of time had unraveled slightly, creating an opening just for him.
Damien hesitated for a moment, his gelatinous body rippling uneasily. But this was the only lead he had. With a small, determined quiver, he moved forward, taking the first step toward the unknown.
The path was a winding one, a road made of threads of light and shadow that twisted in impossible ways. It felt like walking through the very fabric of time itself. Each step took him deeper into the anomaly, further away from the familiar realm he had once known.
Then, as Damien continued to move along the path, the world around him began to shift. The threads of time appeared to stretch and bend, showing flashes of events from both the past and future. He could see fleeting images—visions of people, places, and events that seemed far beyond his grasp. The deeper he went, the more distorted these images became, until the world around him seemed to lose its form altogether, becoming a confusing blur of disjointed moments.
For a moment, Damien felt a deep unease in his core. "What is this place? Where am I really?"
The distortion of reality was overwhelming, but it wasn't long before he saw something through the haze—a figure. It was standing still, waiting for him, like it had always been there, hidden within the fabric of time. The figure was tall and cloaked, its features obscured by the shifting energy around them.
Damien's heart—or whatever part of him could feel it—pounded. He felt drawn to the figure, like something deep inside him was telling him that this was the one the Fatekeeper had spoken of. The one who could help him.
As he approached, the figure turned, its eyes glowing with an unnatural light. They spoke, their voice both distant and present, like an echo in the corridors of time.
"So, you have come at last."
Damien froze, a chill running through his liquid form. "You—"
"I am the one you seek," the figure continued, its voice resonating through the shifting space. "I am the one who sees beyond the veil. The one who knows the truth about time itself."
The words felt heavy, pressing down on Damien's very essence. The figure raised a hand, and the swirling distortion around them stilled for a moment, the world briefly snapping into sharp focus.
"But time is not something to be played with," the figure said. "It cannot be unraveled without consequences."
Damien's body tensed. He was well aware of the chaos he had caused. He hadn't intended it. He never wanted any of this. But now, standing before the one being who could give him answers, he had to ask.
"How do I fix it?" he asked, his voice steady despite the fear pulsing within him. "The rift… the Marauders… all of it. How do I fix what I've broken?"
The figure regarded him for a long moment. For the first time since their meeting, it tilted its head, as though considering Damien's question with care.
"There is no easy answer," the figure replied. "The damage you have done is beyond simple repair. The fabric of time itself is torn. The balance is shifting."
Damien's slime body trembled. "What does that mean?"
The figure stepped closer, the air around them crackling with energy. "It means that you have set in motion forces far older and more powerful than you can comprehend. The Marauders, the rifts, they are merely symptoms of a much greater force that has been disturbed. And now, you must choose: Will you continue down the path you've begun, or will you work to restore what has been lost?"
Damien hesitated. Restoring it? How could he?
The figure continued, its voice growing more insistent. "You are not the first to be caught in time's web. But you are the first to possess the key to either fix it or let it all fall apart. Your actions will determine the fate of not just your world—but the entire structure of reality."
Damien felt the weight of those words. For the first time, he realized just how deep the consequences of his actions ran. This wasn't just about him anymore. This was about everything.
And he had no idea where to start.