Night cloaked the mountains in velvet darkness as the camp nestled along the valley's edge stirred with a strange, uneasy quiet. The remnants of their battle in the Valley of Stillness still lingered, not only in the bruises and torn armor but in the way time itself seemed hesitant to move forward. Conversations were hushed, glances thoughtful. Even the fires crackled more gently, as though unwilling to disturb the fragile peace they'd carved out of chaos.
Caius sat alone on a boulder overlooking the plains below. The stars glittered overhead, unfazed by mortal conflicts. He turned the Chronomancer's Heart in his hands, its once-pulsing glow now a dull throb beneath the surface. The artifact seemed... subdued, as though sated or perhaps simply weary, mirroring his own exhaustion.
Footsteps approached. He didn't need to look to know it was Selene.
"You didn't eat," she said softly, placing a steaming bowl beside him.
"I'm not hungry."
"Liar." She sat beside him, her cloak brushing against his. "You've barely slept either."
He let out a low breath. "How do you rest after tearing the fabric of reality apart?"
Selene was quiet for a moment. Then: "By reminding yourself it was stitched back together, however imperfectly."
Caius turned to look at her. "You believe it'll hold?"
"I believe we made it this far for a reason. That counts for something."
Her hand found his in the darkness. He didn't pull away.
Below them, the camp lights glowed like scattered embers. Elias moved from tent to tent, checking wounds and distributing supplies. Aldric stood watch with the other sentries, ever vigilant. Though wearied, they remained united.
"What happens now?" Caius asked aloud, more to himself than her.
Selene leaned back, resting against the rock. "We rebuild. Reclaim what was lost. And we stay ready. Time may sleep, but it never dies."
Morning came cloaked in fog. The sun fought to pierce it, golden fingers stretching over the damp earth. The camp stirred sluggishly, soldiers rising with stiff limbs and tight expressions. Though victorious, they were not untouched. Too many faces were missing.
A memorial was held. Elias spoke words of remembrance, his voice strong yet reverent. Each name read aloud was answered by a chorus of quiet murmurs. When it was done, the camp stood in silence, heads bowed. Even the wind seemed to pause.
Afterward, Caius met with the inner circle in a wide tent at the center of the camp. A new map lay before them, inked hastily with shifting front lines and unfamiliar territories.
"The fracturing across the continent hasn't ceased entirely," Elias said, pointing to three regions where storms of temporal energy had been reported. "Residual echoes of the Chronophage's interference. If we don't stabilize them, we risk another collapse."
Aldric nodded grimly. "I'll rally what remains of our scouts. If we can chart the terrain, perhaps we can triangulate the epicenters."
"And I'll begin work on new anchor talismans," Elias added. "The ones we used before won't withstand another surge."
Selene looked to Caius. "You're the keystone. You'll have to be at the center of each effort."
Caius didn't argue. He merely folded the map and tucked it beneath his arm.
"We leave at dawn."
The journey to the first fracture zone took three days. Each step closer warped the surroundings. Birds froze mid-flight, dew clung to leaves long after noon, and shadows twisted opposite to their sources. The team moved cautiously, always anchored to a temporal beacon crafted by Elias.
The epicenter was a small village caught in a loop. Its people repeated the same hour over and over—children laughing, merchants bartering, the same spilled cart of apples rolling across cobblestone again and again.
"Time loop," Elias said with a frown. "A minor one, but potent."
Caius stepped into the center, the Chronomancer's Heart responding immediately. He reached out, fingertips brushing the edges of the distortion. Memories—his own and not—flooded his mind. A thousand versions of the same moment.
He focused, grounding himself in Selene's voice, in Elias's pulse, in the steadiness of the world beyond the loop. Then he released a wave of energy—not destructive, but healing.
The loop cracked, shattered like glass under strain.
Villagers blinked, bewildered but free. Children cried. Old men dropped to their knees in silent gratitude. Caius smiled faintly, though his skin was pale, sweat beading his brow.
Selene caught him as he stumbled. "You alright?"
He nodded, leaning on her briefly. "One down."
"Two more to go."
They rested in the village that night. Music and food were offered in thanks, and while most of the group welcomed the reprieve, Caius remained withdrawn.
Selene found him again—this time in a garden behind one of the homes.
"Are you going to keep running from peace?" she asked with a teasing smile.
He looked up, startled. "I'm not... I just..."
"Feel like you don't deserve it?"
His silence was answer enough.
She knelt beside him. "You're allowed to rest, Caius. You're allowed to feel something besides guilt."
He met her gaze. The firelight from the village reflected in her eyes, casting soft amber glows.
"I'm afraid," he admitted.
"So am I," she whispered.
And then they kissed—hesitant, uncertain, but real.
In that fragile moment, the weight of time lifted. Just for a breath.
They parted slowly, foreheads resting together.
"We'll face it together," Selene said.
"Yes," Caius replied. "Together."
The stars above them spun on, silent and eternal, bearing witness to a universe beginning, just slightly, to heal.