The past smelled of honeysuckle and hearth-smoke. Kael staggered through the sun-dappled village square, his boots sinking into unpaved earth. Children laughed, chasing chickens, while his mother—young, vibrant, alive—haggled with a merchant over baskets of saffron. Her voice, unbroken by grief, pierced him like a blade.
"You there!" She turned, squinting at him. "Do I… know you?"
Kael's hood shadowed his face. "No."
Her gaze lingered on his scar. "Strange. You remind me of someone."
Before he could reply, the sky split.
A portal vomited hybrids into the square, their cobalt veins blazing. Villagers screamed as the creatures tore through stalls, their claws shredding time itself. One hybrid seized a child—Kael's uncle, barely five.
"Mother!" the boy wailed.
Kael moved. His blade, still stained with future blood, cleaved the hybrid's spine. The child dropped, wide-eyed. "Th-thank you, sir!"
"Run." Kael shoved him toward his mother, who stared at him, suspicion and awe warring in her eyes.
"Who are you?"
"No one." He charged into the fray.
The hybrids fought with Lyra's precision, their amber eyes pleading even as they struck. "Mother commands," one hissed, dodging Kael's swing. "Preserve the timeline."
"Lyra sent you?"
"She is the Weaver now."
A hybrid's claw raked Kael's arm, aging the wound instantly. He faltered, and a figure darted past—a young man with Gideon's sharp cheekbones and Lira's defiant glare.
"Get back!" The boy hurled a torch at a hybrid, his voice trembling. "I'll protect them!"
Gideon. Not a god, not yet. Just a farmer's son with dirt on his hands and fire in his eyes.
Kael's blade froze mid-swing.
The hybrid seized its chance, pinning him. "Kill him," it whispered. "End the cycle."
Gideon grabbed a pitchfork, impaling the hybrid. "Stay down, monster!"
Kael stared up at the boy who'd someday burn him alive. "Why help me?"
Gideon shrugged, offering a hand. "You looked like you needed it."
The hybrids regrouped, their focus shifting to Kael's mother. She stood guard over the children, a kitchen knife in hand.
"Go!" Gideon yelled. "I'll hold them!"
Kael sprinted, time bending at his heels. He cut through hybrids, but their numbers swarmed—herding him away from her.
"Kael!" His mother screamed his name—his real name—as a hybrid dragged her toward the portal.
Gideon froze. "Kael? But that's… that's my nephew's name. He's just a baby—"
The hybrid's claw pressed to her throat. "Choose," it hissed. "Her life, or his."
Gideon stood oblivious, still gripping his pitchfork.
Kael's blade trembled. One strike could erase every tragedy. One strike could erase Lyra.