The melody from the music box was soft, almost fragile — a lullaby wrapped in glass.
Kael blinked, sitting upright on the cold wooden floor of what should've been his old room. The posters on the wall were crooked. The bed was too small. And his hands… were the hands of a ten-year-old.
"No," he whispered. "No, no, no."
This wasn't memory.
This wasn't a dream.
It was another loop — only this time, it had rewound too far.
His chest tightened. How could this be happening?
He stumbled to the mirror and saw the reflection of a boy with his same haunted eyes.
Outside, through the window, he could see the twin moons of Sobo rising — their glow casting pale blue halos over the familiar farmland. The quiet galaxy. The one he'd left when he was seventeen to join the Stellar Scouts.
But this version of Sobo was too perfect.
Too still.
"Kael," a voice called from the hallway. "Come downstairs. Breakfast is ready!"
It was his mother.
Her voice made his stomach twist in ways that had nothing to do with hunger.
She'd died years ago. Lost to a riftstorm on the edge of Praton.
But here… she was alive.
Whole.
His knees wobbled as he opened the bedroom door and walked down the steps, hand trailing the rail like he used to do as a child. Every creak of the wood stabbed his memory.
She was in the kitchen, humming. A robe tied around her waist. Hair frizzy the way it always was in the mornings. A mug of steaming joltee in her hand.
She looked up and smiled. "Well, there's my sleepy explorer. Sit down before your eggs go cold."
Kael stared at her, eyes stinging. "Mom?"
"Hmm?" she said, gently cracking a new egg into the pan.
"You're alive."
She laughed. "Of course I'm alive, silly. Why wouldn't I be?"
Kael slowly took a seat.
The scent of spice-toast and burning yolk filled the room.
It was real.
Too real.
And yet something inside him knew — this wasn't home. It wasn't his Sobo.
His mom sat across from him and sipped her drink. "You had another weird dream, didn't you?"
He nodded, cautiously.
"Was it about the stars again?"
He didn't answer.
She leaned forward. "You're going to be someone important someday, Kael. I just know it. You've got this fire in your soul."
He blinked hard. "You used to say that."
"I still do."
He wanted to believe this was real. That somehow, time had folded him back into safety. Into the arms of the woman he'd lost too soon.
But then—
She froze.
Mid-sip.
Not blinking.
Not breathing.
Like someone had hit pause.
The mug hovered in her hand, steam still rising. Her eyes fixed in space.
Kael slowly stood, backing away.
Then she twitched—like a glitch in a simulation.
And in her voice, a different tone spoke:
"The loop bends. The loop learns. Do not trust stillness."
He gasped.
The walls of the kitchen melted into darkness.
The chair dissolved.
His mother's image flickered… then blinked out.
Kael stood alone, barefoot on cold obsidian. Around him, mirrors floated in the dark — each showing a different version of himself.
Some as a child.
Some older.
One lying dead on a battlefield.
Another smiling in a wedding suit.
But none of them were him.
"Where am I?" he shouted into the void.
"You are between," said a soft voice.
He turned.
A girl stood a few feet away, barefoot, wrapped in a cloak that shimmered like oil and stars.
"I'm Eris, the Keeper of the Threshold," she said, bowing slightly. "I guard the edges of broken loops."
Kael stared. "Why do you look like my sister?"
She frowned. "Because your mind remembers her best. I took a shape you'd follow."
He took a step forward. "What is this place?"
"Here?" she said, waving at the floating shards. "This is the place where the loop hides its lies. You were pulled back too far, Kael. Back to when your soul was still soft. But it's unstable. That time was overwritten long ago."
Kael's voice cracked. "That version of my mom—was that a test?"
Eris nodded. "A memory dressed up as a gift. But the loop isn't kind. It wants to keep you."
He clenched his fists. "I'm tired of being bounced around. I want to know who's behind this."
Eris looked at him for a long time. "Do you?"
"Yes!"
"Then follow the crack."
"What crack?"
She pointed behind him.
Kael turned.
And there it was — a hairline fracture in the void, glowing faintly red. Like a crack in a dam about to burst.
"You must go through," Eris said. "But you'll leave something behind."
"What do you mean?"
She looked down. "Every jump costs you. A memory, a feeling, a name. It's how the loop feeds."
Kael stepped toward the crack. "I'll pay it. I need to find Maya. I need to end this."
Eris hesitated. "When you walk through… you'll forget something."
"What will I forget?"
She didn't answer.
Just pointed.
Kael swallowed hard.
His hands trembled as he reached for the crack.
It pulsed under his touch.
The world tilted.
And then—
Light exploded around him.
He fell—
—through the ceiling of a vast hall made of glass and bone.
He hit the ground hard.
People gasped.
A booming voice shouted, "INTRUDER!"
Kael sat up, dazed.
He was in a courtroom like nothing he'd seen before.
Spirals of time ran along the walls. Judges made of starlight and data leaned forward from above.
On the center pedestal stood Echo, the silver-eyed manipulator who had tricked Kael back in Chapter 6.
Echo smirked. "Welcome, loopwalker. You've arrived just in time… for your sentencing."
Kael tried to stand, but heavy metal clamps snapped around his wrists and ankles.
A figure in robes stepped forward. He had no face—just a swirling void for a head.
"I am Verin, Warden of the Final Trial."
Kael's voice shook. "What am I on trial for?"
"Time treason," Verin replied. "Loop disruption. Emotional anchoring. Unauthorized identity splicing."
Kael's breath caught. "This is insane."
Echo chuckled. "Tell that to the other versions of you who already confessed."
From the gallery above, dozens of Kaels looked down.
Some crying.
Some yelling.
One grinning like he wanted to die.
Kael gasped.
Verin raised his hand. "Let the trial begin."
The room darkened.
A spotlight hit Kael.
A voice asked, "Why did you choose to remember Maya?"
Kael blinked. "What kind of question is that?"
"Answer," Verin said.
"Because she's real!" Kael shouted. "Because she made me human!"
"That is… unfortunate," Verin said. "Emotion is the first infection."
Kael tried to fight, but his memories were starting to slip.
He could feel it—his mom's face, her voice, even his own name—all trembling at the edge of forgetting.
Echo leaned in. "You shouldn't have come here, Kael. This isn't a place of justice. It's a correction chamber."
The shackles tightened.
The lights dimmed further.
A black needle descended from the ceiling — aimed straight at Kael's head.
He screamed.
And just before it touched him—
A voice exploded in the chamber:
"LET HIM GO!"
The walls shattered.
Lightning ripped across the sky.
Maya burst through the timeglass wall, fire in her eyes and a stolen loop-blade in her hand.
"I remember him," she said. "And you're not taking him."
To be continued…