Elara stood at the edge of the city, watching as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting the crumbling buildings in hues of orange and violet. It had been a quiet day—too quiet. The streets, once bustling with the noise of a city teeming with life, now seemed deserted, abandoned. Yet, she knew there were people still out there. Somewhere. People who remembered. People like her.
She had once read that time was like a river, always flowing, never stopping. But now, it felt as if the river had fractured into countless streams, pulling at her mind and her memories, like waves crashing in unpredictable directions. She had tried to make sense of it, but every attempt to grasp the truth seemed to slip through her fingers.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, the noise breaking her out of her thoughts. A brief, sharp reminder that there was still something tethering her to the world as it once was. She fumbled to pull it out, checking the notification that appeared—a new message. There was no name, just a string of numbers. The message read:
"Don't trust the memories."
Elara frowned, staring at the words, her pulse quickening. The voice in her head screamed that she knew something was wrong, but her thoughts felt fragmented, incomplete. She had seen these numbers before. She knew she had. But where? Who had sent this? And why?
Her mind felt sluggish as if it were wading through thick fog. The message was clear: Don't trust the memories. But it left her with a gnawing emptiness, as if a part of her was missing—a part of her that had once understood the weight of these words.
She shoved the phone back into her pocket, her hands trembling. She had lost track of so many things—her life before all of this. The way the world used to be, full of color and purpose, now seemed distant, almost like a dream. There were fragments, broken pieces of herself scattered like dust, impossible to piece together. And each day, she lost more.
She had no memory of the exact moment it all began—the moment when time started to fray and reality started to bleed into something else. The first signs were subtle, people forgetting things that hadn't even happened yet. And then the cracks grew wider. She'd watched her friends and family slowly slip away as they lost the things that made them who they were. And then they would vanish—never to return.
But not her. Not Elara.
She was different. Or so she thought.
There was something in her blood, a glitch in the system, something that kept her from forgetting. Every day was like waking up in a different world, a new place, a new reality, but her memories—the real ones—remained. She was one of the last, one of the few who hadn't fallen victim to the strange unraveling. Or so she believed.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind her. She spun around, heart hammering in her chest. A figure emerged from the shadows, tall and cloaked in darkness, their face obscured by a scarf and a hood. Elara instinctively took a step back, but the figure raised a hand in a gesture of peace.
"Elara," the figure's voice was deep, and though it was muffled, she could tell it wasn't a threat. "You've been looking for answers."
She stiffened, her eyes narrowing. "Who are you? How do you know my name?"
The figure's hand moved to pull back the hood, revealing a face she had never seen before. His features were sharp, eyes intense, as if he had lived through countless lifetimes. His expression was solemn, serious. He stepped closer, looking over his shoulder as if ensuring no one was watching.
"My name is Axel," he said, his voice steady but edged with urgency. "And I'm here to warn you."
Elara swallowed, her mind racing. "Warn me? Warn me about what?"
Axel didn't answer immediately. Instead, his eyes flickered to the horizon, where the sky was darkening with the coming night. "You've noticed it, haven't you? The way time bends... the way things seem off. The way memories slip through your fingers like sand."
Elara felt a chill run down her spine. "Yes. It's... happening faster now. People are—" She stopped herself. She wanted to say 'disappearing,' but somehow, that word felt wrong. It was more than just disappearing. People were fading. Like they had never been there to begin with.
Axel's face softened slightly, though there was no trace of comfort in his gaze. "It's not just people. It's the world itself. Time is fracturing, and no one knows why. But you... you're different. You're one of the few who hasn't lost everything. That's why I'm here."
"I don't understand," Elara whispered. "If time is breaking, why am I still here? Why can I remember?"
Axel took a step forward, his voice lowering. "Because you're a part of the solution. Your memories—they're more than just fragments of the past. They're a key. You may not realize it, but you've been chosen. The question is, will you remember enough to stop this before it's too late?"
The wind picked up, rustling through the empty streets. Elara's heart raced. She could feel her mind spinning, trying to keep up with Axel's words, but something inside her was pulling her to listen, to trust him.
"Elara," Axel's voice grew urgent. "You're not the only one who remembers. But the longer you stay here, the harder it will be to hold onto your past. You need to come with me. There are others, and together, you might be able to stop this. If we don't act now, everything—everyone—will be lost."
A surge of emotion twisted in her chest. Something in his words felt like the final puzzle piece clicking into place. The feeling of not forgetting—of being tethered to something real, something whole—was the only thing keeping her grounded in this unraveling world.
But the thought of leaving, of going to an unknown place with a stranger, terrified her. She wasn't sure what was worse: staying here, alone, waiting to fade, or trusting someone she barely knew.
"Are you ready to find out what's happening, Elara?" Axel's voice broke through her thoughts. "Or will you let everything you've ever known slip away?"
Elara looked out at the darkened city once more, the wind howling, the world on the brink of unraveling. She didn't have an answer yet, but she knew one thing for sure.
She couldn't stay here. Not while everything was falling apart.
With a deep breath, she stepped forward.
"I'm ready," she said.
And for the first time in a long while, something inside her clicked. A faint, flickering hope.