"The unseen hand of fate does not strike; it tightens, slowly, inexorably—until you realize too late that you were already caught in its grip."

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The village remained undisturbed, nestled in the embrace of quiet, unassuming normalcy as it it's not nestled in ruins. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, the scent of baked bread mingling with the crisp night air. Lanterns flickered along the dirt paths, their warm glow a stark contrast to the cold abyss they had left behind in the ruins. Juno, Exos, and the unconscious Selene passed through the empty streets, the weight of unspoken thoughts pressing down on them like a leaden sky.

Exos carried Selene with ease, though the strain in his shoulders did not go unnoticed by Juno. He was always like this—silent, unwavering, a fortress that never showed its cracks. But Juno knew better. After what they had faced, even he couldn't be unaffected.

They reached the small inn where they had stayed before, the same place where Selene had collapsed after their last battle. The innkeeper, an elderly woman with kind but wary eyes, ushered them inside without question. A quiet understanding passed between them, the kind that needed no words. This was not a night for explanations—only rest.

Selene was placed onto one of the straw-stuffed beds, her breathing steady but shallow. Juno exhaled, feeling the stiffness in her own limbs as the adrenaline from battle faded. She turned to Exos, who was already removing his gauntlets with practiced movements.

"You don't have to keep standing there like a statue, you know," she muttered, rubbing her temples.

"I'm fine."

Juno scoffed. "Sure. And I'm the Aspect of Relaxation."

Exos shot her a look, but there was no real bite to it. He sat down on the wooden bench near the table, arms crossed, gaze locked onto Selene's unmoving form. Something about the way he watched her made Juno pause.

"She'll be fine," Juno reassured, though it felt like she was saying it for herself as well. "She just needs time."

Exos nodded but didn't respond. A long silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable, but heavy with the weight of things left unsaid. Juno settled onto the opposite bench, stretching out her aching legs.

"She's like you," Juno finally said, watching the way Exos's jaw tensed slightly. "You both hide things behind a mask, but it slips when you're around each other."

Exos didn't react immediately, but Juno knew he had heard her. After a moment, he sighed, leaning back slightly.

"I was raised to be a weapon," he said, voice steady but laced with something distant. "A blade doesn't question its wielder. It doesn't doubt. It doesn't waver."

Juno listened carefully, sensing the rarity of his words. "And yet, here you are. Doubting, wavering."

A faint, almost imperceptible smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. "Perhaps."

Juno shifted, considering her next words. "Selene—she's the opposite. She questions everything, rebels against anything that tries to define her. But… that doesn't mean she's not like you."

Exos's gaze flickered toward Selene before settling on Juno. "You think we're alike?"

Juno shrugged. "You both lost something that shaped you. And now, you're searching for something else to take its place."

Exos exhaled slowly, staring at his hands as if they held answers he had yet to decipher. "She used to be part of something greater. A celestial force that burned too brightly. And I…"

Juno tilted her head. "You?"

Exos closed his eyes for a brief moment, then opened them, expression unreadable. "I was forged in the aftermath of destruction. My purpose was never to burn—it was to endure."

Juno nodded, watching the way the candlelight flickered across his sharp features. "And now?"

A beat passed. Then, softly, "Now, I don't know."

The honesty in his voice surprised her. For all his stoicism, Exos was not without depth. He and Selene were different, yet bound by the same fundamental truth: they were both remnants of something that no longer existed. A fallen star and a broken weapon, drifting through time, waiting to see if they would be reforged or left to rust.

Juno leaned back, staring at the wooden beams of the ceiling. "Maybe none of us know," she admitted. "Maybe that's the point."

A quiet chuckle escaped Exos. "Philosophical tonight, aren't you?"

Juno smirked. "I've had a long day of breaking reality. Let me have my moment."

Silence settled between them once more, but this time, it was lighter. The weight hadn't disappeared, but it was shared—distributed among them in a way that made it just a little easier to bear.

A soft groan from the bed made them both turn. Selene stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She blinked groggily, taking in her surroundings before focusing on them. "Please tell me there's food," she croaked.

Juno snorted. "Welcome back to the land of the living. And yes, we'll get you something before you decide to faint dramatically again."

Selene smirked, though her exhaustion was evident. "Good. Because I think I had a dream where I was fighting a Void Lord with a giant spoon. I'd rather not live that reality."

Juno and Exos exchanged a look before laughter—soft, genuine—filled the space between them. In this fleeting moment, the weight of their burdens didn't seem quite so crushing. The future remained uncertain, the past inescapable, but for now, they had this.

And sometimes, that was enough.

The candle's flame wavered, casting long, flickering shadows against the inn's wooden walls. Juno leaned against the table, watching as Selene devoured her food with reckless abandon. Across from them, Exos sat silently, methodically sharpening a dagger, his hands moving with mechanical precision.

Juno exhaled, resting her chin against her knuckles. "You know, Selene, I'm starting to think you might actually be some kind of celestial glutton. Are you sure that's not where your powers come from?"

Selene, mid-bite, grinned. "Stars need fuel, Juno. And I've been burning hot."

Juno shook her head, but the humor was short-lived. Beneath Selene's forced playfulness, the exhaustion was evident. The fight against the Riftspawn, the encounter with the fragmented echoes of the Void Lords—it had taken its toll on all of them.

She turned to Exos, who had yet to say anything beyond grunts of acknowledgment. His focus remained on the blade in his hands, but Juno could see the way his jaw tensed slightly, as if bracing for words he didn't want to say.

"You've been quiet," she noted.

Exos didn't look up. "I don't waste words."

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Selene snorted. "No, you hoard them like rare artifacts and hand them out like they're cursed."

A pause. Then, unexpectedly, Exos set down the dagger and met Juno's gaze. "We need to talk about what happened in the ruins."

Juno felt the air shift, the moment of levity dissipating. She folded her arms, nodding. "Alright."

Exos glanced at Selene, then back at Juno. "That voice in the rift. The one that knew your name."

Juno's fingers twitched. "Yeah."

Selene wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, eyes sharp despite her fatigue. "And the fact that it called you 'Timekeeper.'"

Juno resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably. The word still felt foreign to her, too big for the person she thought she was. "It wasn't the first time I've heard it."

That made both of them pause. Exos's expression darkened. "Explain."

Juno hesitated, but there was no point in hiding it. "I've… seen things. Visions. Echoes of moments that shouldn't exist. And every time, the name appears."

Selene leaned forward, her fingers drumming against the table. "And you're just telling us now?"

Juno sighed. "It's not exactly the easiest thing to bring up. 'Hey guys, I think time is breaking and my name's scribbled in the margins of reality.'"

Exos was unreadable, his gaze steady. "The Void recognizes you."

Juno exhaled sharply. "Yeah. And that terrifies me."

Selene ran a hand through her hair, staring at the ceiling as if the answers were written in the wood grain. "Alright, so we've got a timeline-hopping, reality-breaking mystery on our hands. Not exactly new for us."

Juno shot her a look. "It's not just a mystery, Selene. The Void Lords aren't just some unknowable force. They're aware. And they know me."

Exos picked up the dagger again, turning it over in his hands. "Which means they'll come for you."

The words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable.

Juno inhaled, forcing herself to meet Exos's gaze. "They already have. I just don't know why."

Selene smirked, but there was something sharp beneath it. "Well, I don't know about you two, but I don't plan on letting some cosmic horror dictate our next moves. If they're watching, let's give them something worth seeing."

Juno stared at her, then chuckled, despite herself. "You make it sound simple."

Selene grinned. "It is. We fight. We survive. And we find out exactly why the Void thinks you're important."

"It must be how I shattered my own timeline." Juno exhaled, nodding. "Fine. But if I start seeing my name carved into reality itself, I'm running first and asking questions later."

Exos finally sheathed his blade. "Then we'll run with you."

For once, the weight of uncertainty didn't feel as heavy.

Juno exhaled. “You called yourself an exile,” she said at last, breaking the fragile stillness. “Back at the ruins. Why?”

Selene let out a breathy laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Because it’s true.” Her fingers toyed absentmindedly with the edge of her moon-phase bracelet. “I was born under an impossible sky—a celestial convergence that shouldn’t have happened. The stars whispered to me before I could even understand their voices. And when I finally did, I wished I hadn’t.”

Her voice turned distant. “Divination isn’t forbidden among my people, but knowing too much? Seeing too far? That’s a crime. The stars don’t lie, you know. But mortals can’t handle the truth of their own fates.” She rolled onto her side, her gold-flecked eyes catching the dim firelight. “I told a king he would choke on his own greed. He called me a false prophet. I told a hero he wasn’t meant to save anyone, least of all himself. He went to war anyway. Every time I spoke, I unraveled something. Destinies splintered, choices changed. Chaos followed. And my family—my own people—called me a heretic for it.”

Juno frowned. “So they exiled you?”

Selene smiled, but it was bitter. “Oh, they did worse. They tried to take my voice. My sight. My hands.” She lifted her daggers—twin crescent blades that shimmered like fractured starlight. “Lament and Solace. I forged them myself, with what little celestial fire I had left after they stripped me of my place among the heavens.”

Juno reached out, hesitantly touching one of the blades. It was cold—far colder than steel had any right to be. “You still see the stars, though. You still wield their power.”

Selene grinned, sharp and defiant. “That’s because they were wrong. I was never just their oracle. I was something more.”

A heavy silence settled between them. Exos, who had been silent, finally spoke, his voice as steady as tempered iron. “You were punished for knowledge. I was punished for obedience.”

Juno turned to him, sensing the weight of his words. Exos had always carried himself with the quiet gravity of someone who had seen too much, endured too much. “Tell me,” she said softly.

He did not pause in his sharpening, but his grip on the whetstone tightened. “My world was ruled by the Aspect of Weapons. A god of war, who demanded steel be sharpened, wielded, and bathed in blood.” His eyes darkened, as if seeing something distant—something lost. “Peace was never an option. The forges burned, the hammers rang, and the war drums never ceased.”

Juno swallowed. “And you?”

“I was a blade given form. I trained from childhood, wielding every weapon my hands could grasp. I fought, I won, I bled, I killed. And I believed in it.” He set the whetstone aside, looking at her fully for the first time. “We told ourselves it was for balance. That the world needed warriors to keep order. That we were the hand of the Aspect, protecting creation itself.” He exhaled sharply. “But the truth was simpler. The Aspect of Weapons didn’t protect. He consumed. War fed him, and in return, he made us weapons. Until there was nothing left to fight.”

Selene sat up, her gaze unreadable. “And then?”

Exos turned his gaze to the blade in his lap, his expression impassive. “The world fell. When there was no one left to raise a weapon, my god abandoned it.” He glanced at Juno, his stare heavy with meaning. “The Aspects claim to be protectors. But some of them are just another kind of tyrant.”

Juno looked between them—Selene, the exile who had been cast out for seeing too much, and Exos, the warrior who had been forged for a cause that never cared for him. Two sides of the same shattered coin. One who had defied fate, and one who had been its prisoner.

The words of the Void Lords echoed in her mind: The Herald will rise.

She clenched her fists. The Void sought to corrupt an Aspect. But after what she had just heard, she wasn’t sure that some of them weren’t already corrupt to begin with.

“I don’t know what’s coming next,” she admitted. “But if we’re going to face it, we need to decide what we actually stand for. Not the Aspects. Not the Void. Just us.”

Exos nodded. Selene smirked. And in that quiet, flickering moment, they understood.

They weren’t just survivors. They were something more.

The night soon meet its end. As the darkness soon embraces them.

Sleep. Night. Crickets.

Juno dreamed of drowning in darkness.

The shadows slithered like serpents, coiling around her limbs, pressing against her throat. They weren’t mere shapes; they had weight, hunger, an insidious intelligence that whispered through the void. Cold fingers dug into her skin, dragging her down into an abyss where time unraveled into nothingness.

She fought. Her mind screamed to activate her system, to burn Chronoenergy, to—

[System Error: Undefined Entity Detected.]

Her breath hitched. The shadows tightened their grip. Something unseen loomed beyond them, watching, waiting.

Then she woke, gasping.

Juno shot up, sweat slicking her forehead. Her pulse pounded against her ribs as she scanned the dimly lit inn room. The first golden traces of morning peeked through the cracked wooden shutters. Selene stirred in the corner, muttering something incoherent in her sleep, while Exos sat by the door, motionless, his halberd within reach.

For a moment, she could almost believe the nightmare had been just that—a bad dream.

Then she noticed the faint, lingering glow of violet energy flickering across her hands.

Juno swallowed hard. No. Not just a dream.

Before she could gather her thoughts, the voices outside the inn rose—urgent, tense. Shadows moved beyond the doorway, murmurs turning into hushed accusations. Juno frowned, focusing past the pounding in her skull.

“…Light. We saw it! The mark of the Void!”

“They brought it here!”

“Spies!”

Selene groaned, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. “Ugh. Too early for pitchforks.”

Exos was already standing, his expression unreadable but sharp. His gaze flicked toward Juno, then to the door. “They saw something.”

Juno clenched her fists. “I think—” She hesitated, recalling the strange, erratic flickers of her system. “I think it was me.”

The door rattled as someone pounded on it. “Come out! Now!”

Selene stretched lazily, but Juno caught the subtle tension in her frame. “Do we have to? I like this place.”

“Not an option,” Exos muttered, reaching for his weapon.

Juno exhaled. She felt the system pulsing beneath her skin, erratic and unstable. Not now. Please, not now.

[System Warning: Critical Instability.]

A violent crackle of energy burst from her fingertips, and the entire room flickered—

—for an instant, Juno saw two versions of reality at once. The villagers outside, torches raised, fear twisting their features. And beyond that, a different version of them—faces twisted in grotesque expressions, eyes hollow, their bodies consumed by writhing shadows.

A split-second lapse. Then the world stabilized.

Her stomach twisted. What the hell was that?

Selene whistled, unimpressed. “Well, that was ominous.”

Exos didn’t react, but his grip on his halberd tightened. “We need to leave. Now.”

Juno nodded. “Agreed.”

They didn’t wait for the mob outside to grow bolder. With swift, practiced motions, they gathered what little they had and slipped out through the back of the inn. The air outside was crisp, the morning sky painted in soft hues of blue and gold—so deceptively normal that it made Juno’s stomach churn.

Behind them, voices rose in confusion as the villagers realized their targets had vanished.

The trio moved quickly, leaving the village behind. None of them spoke as they walked, but Juno felt the weight of the past night pressing down on them. Her nightmare. The villagers’ fear. The system glitch. And that brief, terrible moment where she had seen something else—something beyond the veil of reality.

She inhaled deeply, steadying herself. Whatever was happening to her, whatever was wrong with her system—

It was getting worse.

And she had no idea how much longer she could control it.