Morning came with a hush, as if the world itself held its breath. The air over the capital was clean, but thin with uncertainty, like a sheet of glass stretched taut over a dark chasm. Caius stood at the city gates, already clad in his worn traveling gear. Around him, the remnants of the kingdom's surviving warriors gathered silently, their armor battered but spirits hardened.
Selene arrived, donning her new cloak, dyed deep blue with the sigil of the Folded Path stitched into its collar. She didn't speak immediately. She simply looked at him—and he nodded. That was enough.
Aldric led the column, his grizzled voice calling out formation orders. The army, smaller now than it had been, moved with the purpose of those who knew the world itself might depend on their next march.
The path to the Valley of Stillness was not marked on any map. It was hidden within a fold of the world, where geography and time blurred. Caius had seen it in the fractured dreams left by the Chronomancer's Heart—a place where days hung in midair, and footsteps echoed years into the past.
By midday, the convoy left behind the last ruins of the kingdom. The land grew strange. Trees leaned at odd angles. Rivers flowed uphill, briefly, before resuming their course. Animals watched without blinking, as if sensing the disturbance that clung to Caius like a second skin.
Selene walked beside him. "The Chronophage—do you think he remembers being you?"
Caius considered the question. "I think he remembers being something. Maybe a version of me that lost hope."
She shivered. "Let's make sure we don't let that version win."
They camped in a meadow untouched by seasons, where the grass was always green and the sky always twilight. Elias, as ever, maintained the perimeter with quiet precision. That night, the soldiers whispered of ghostly lights flickering just beyond the trees.
A scout vanished.
They found him at dawn, not harmed—but aged. Decades older. His eyes wide with silent terror, his voice gone.
"The edges are thinning," Caius murmured. "Time doesn't flow straight here."
Aldric's hand fell to his sword. "Then we move quickly."
As they pressed on, the group grew quieter. Days and nights bled together. Sometimes, the stars changed positions mid-sentence. Caius held the Heart close to his chest, letting it guide him through the timeless haze.
On the seventh day, the valley revealed itself.
They crested a ridge, and there it was—a basin of swirling mist, wide as a city, silent as death. No birds flew overhead. No wind stirred. In the center stood a lone spire, dark against the glowing horizon.
"That's where he is," Caius said.
The army made camp on the outskirts. Caius prepared to descend alone.
Selene grabbed his wrist. "You said we'd face it together."
"You can't enter," he said. "The messenger was clear."
She frowned. "Then I'll wait here. But if I feel time shifting again, I'm coming after you."
Caius managed a faint smile. "Fair."
He stepped into the mist.
The Valley of Stillness lived up to its name. Each footstep Caius took seemed to echo infinitely, spiraling outward like ripples in a frozen lake. Around him, fragments of time hung in the air—images like broken glass: his mother's smile, Elias bleeding on a battlefield, Selene asleep under starlight. None moved. None spoke.
The Heart glowed more intensely now, guiding him forward.
At the base of the spire, the mist cleared. The Chronophage stood there, a dark mirror of himself, older and thinner, his skin pale and marked with cracks of golden light. His eyes held no malice—only endless exhaustion.
"So," the Chronophage said. "You found me."
"I had to."
"Why?"
Caius drew a breath. "Because I won't let the cycle start again."
The Chronophage laughed—a sound like crumbling stone. "You think this is about cycles? You think I wanted to become this?"
"Then what happened to you?"
The Chronophage pointed at the sky. "I tried to fix time. But the world didn't want fixing. Every change unraveled another. Every victory came with a cost I couldn't pay. So I consumed the broken pieces. I had to. Or watch everything vanish."
Caius felt a pang of sympathy—but he didn't waver. "There has to be another way."
The Chronophage stepped closer. "Then show me. Prove me wrong. Take this burden."
And he thrust the remnant of his own Chronomancer's Heart forward.
Caius gritted his teeth. He raised his own.
The two cores met.
Time shattered.
He fell through every version of himself.
As a child, crying alone in the ruins.
As a young man, holding Selene's hand as they watched stars collapse.
As an old king, dying on a throne of salt and sand.
And in each echo, a choice: surrender, or resist.
He resisted.
Until only one version remained—the one who had accepted that time was never meant to be controlled. Only respected.
When he awoke, the mist was gone. The valley lay still, but no longer haunted.
The Chronophage was gone, leaving only a cloak of gold dust.
Caius walked back up the ridge. Selene was there, waiting.
"You came back," she said.
He nodded. "We ended it."
She stepped forward, brushed dust from his shoulders. "No. You did."
He looked at her, the weight of years in his gaze. "Only because I had someone to return to."
And in the long hush that followed, the valley bloomed with wildflowers, as if time itself exhaled for the first time in ages.
Back at the camp, word spread quickly. Soldiers cheered. Elias nodded solemnly. Aldric placed a hand on Caius's shoulder, pride etched deep in his face.
That night, under a sky reborn, Caius and Selene stood alone again.
"What now?" she asked.
He looked east, where the sun would soon rise. "Now we build. Not as lords of time. Just... as people."
She smiled. "Together?"
He took her hand.
"Always."