Chapter 13
The descent from the mountain was nothing like the climb.
Kian walked slowly, the boy—*his other self*—clinging to his hand with a grip that was equal parts trust and terror. The child kept glancing back at the peak, as if expecting the storm to return, expecting the Fractured to rise again from the shattered stones.
Jin Yue led the way, her sword still unsheathed, her posture tense. She hadn't spoken since Kian had made his decision.
Master Liangu moved like a shadow beside them, his gaze lingering on the boy with an unreadable expression.
The silence was suffocating.
Finally, Jin Yue stopped at the edge of the treeline and turned. "We can't just bring him back to the monastery."
Kian stiffened. "Why not?"
"Because he *isn't real*," she hissed, then immediately winced as the boy flinched. She lowered her voice. "He doesn't exist in this timeline. He's a paradox. What happens when people ask questions? When they realize there's a child who looks exactly like you?"
The boy's fingers tightened around Kian's. *"I don't want to be a problem."*
Kian's chest ached. He knelt, meeting the boy's eyes—*his own eyes, but younger, unburdened by time*. "You're not a problem," he said firmly. Then, to Jin Yue: "We'll figure it out."
Master Liangu stroked his beard. "The Shard remade him for a reason. There are no accidents in time."
Jin Yue threw up her hands. "So what? We just pretend he's always been here?"
"No." The old master's gaze sharpened. "We give him a story."
The Lie That Anchors
The boy needed a name.
Not *Kian*—that would raise too many questions. So, after a long silence beneath the swaying pines, Master Liangu spoke again.
"Lian."
Kian frowned. "Like… 'Lian' as in 'connected'?"
The master nodded. "A thread that binds. A second chance."
The boy—*Lian*—tested the name on his tongue. *"Lian."* He looked up at Kian, hesitant. *"Do I like it?"*
Kian's throat tightened. "Yeah," he murmured. "Yeah, I think you do."
Next came the story.
An orphan, found in the ruins of a village destroyed by bandits. A child with no past, taken in by the monastery out of mercy. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to explain his sudden appearance—enough to keep the questions at bay.
Jin Yue still didn't look convinced. "And what happens when he starts remembering? When he realizes what he *was*?"
Lian's breath hitched. *"I was a monster."*
Kian grabbed his shoulders. "No. You *weren't*."
The boy's lower lip trembled. *"Then why do I remember it?"*
The question struck like a blade.
Because he *did* remember. Not everything—not clearly—but flashes. The Fractured's memories were still there, buried beneath the innocence of childhood, like scars on a soul.
Master Liangu exhaled. "The Shard may have reset his body, but the mind is not so easily undone."
Kian swallowed hard. "Then we help him."
Jin Yue's expression softened, just slightly. "How?"
Kian looked at Lian—at the fear in his own younger eyes—and made a promise.
"We make sure he never becomes that again."
The Return
The monastery gates loomed ahead, their familiar wood and iron a stark contrast to the surreal nightmare they'd just survived.
Disciples training in the courtyard froze as the group entered. Whispers spread like wildfire.
*"Who's the child?"*
*"Why does he look like—"*
*"Is that Kian's *brother*?"*
Kian ignored them, keeping Lian close as they crossed the courtyard. But then—
"Kian."
The voice was sharp. Unmistakable.
Elder Zhao stood at the steps of the main hall, his arms crossed, his gaze locked onto Lian with terrifying intensity.
Jin Yue muttered a curse under her breath.
Master Liangu stepped forward smoothly. "Elder Zhao. We found the boy in the northern ruins. He is the sole survivor of a bandit attack."
The elder's eyes narrowed. "And you brought him here?"
"The Shard guided us to him," Liangu said, his voice calm but firm.
A dangerous silence followed. The mention of the Shard was a gamble—Elder Zhao had always been wary of its power.
Finally, the elder exhaled through his nose. "The boy stays *under watch*." Then, to Kian: "And *you*—the High Council will want a full report on what happened on that mountain."
Kian nodded stiffly.
As Elder Zhao turned away, Lian whispered, *"He doesn't like me."*
Kian squeezed his hand. "It's not you. It's me."
Jin Yue snorted. "That's the first true thing you've said all day."
The Dreams That Haunt
Night fell.
Kian lay awake in his small room, listening to Lian's quiet breathing from the cot beside him. The boy had fallen asleep quickly, exhausted from the ordeal, but Kian couldn't rest.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the Fractured.
*His* face.
*His* despair.
A soft whimper made him sit up.
Lian was twitching in his sleep, his small fists clutching the blanket, his face contorted in fear.
*"No… please… don't let it happen again…"*
Kian was at his side in an instant, shaking him gently. "Lian. Wake up."
The boy's eyes flew open, wild and unfocused. For a heartbeat, Kian saw the Fractured in them—the centuries of pain, the endless loop of regret.
Then Lian gasped and launched himself into Kian's arms, trembling. *"I saw her die."*
Ice flooded Kian's veins. "Who?"
*"Jin Yue."*
The name hung in the dark like a death sentence.
Kian's grip tightened. "That's not going to happen."
*"But it *did*,"* Lian whispered. *"In my time. It *did*."*
And there it was—the truth Kian had been avoiding.
The Fractured hadn't just failed.
He had lost *everything*.
The Vow
Kian didn't sleep the rest of the night.
Instead, he sat by the window, watching the moon trace its path across the sky, the Chrono Shard a steady weight against his chest.
Lian's words echoed in his mind.
*"I saw her die."*
It was a warning. A glimpse of the future he *could* have—the future he *would* have, if he followed the same path.
But he wouldn't.
He *couldn't*.
As dawn painted the horizon in pale gold, Kian made a silent vow—to himself, to Lian, to the Fractured that had once been.
He would protect them.
All of them.
*No matter the cost.*