Selene touched the next fragment, the light pulling her into another memory.

This time, she saw herself—not as she was now, but as a child. She was sitting in a sunlit room, a broken clock on the table before her. Her small hands moved carefully, placing gears and springs together with surprising precision.

“Time isn’t broken,” the young Selene murmured, her voice barely audible. “It’s just… misplaced.”

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The words sent a chill through the older Selene. She had no memory of this moment, yet it felt deeply familiar.

The memory faded, leaving her breathless. She turned to E. “Why did I see that? What does it mean?”

“You’ve always had a connection to time,” E said. “Even as a child, you understood it in ways others couldn’t. That connection is why the Seam called to you.”

Selene shook her head, her thoughts spiraling. “I don’t want this. I didn’t ask for any of it.”

“No one asks for the Seam,” E said. “It chooses.”

The words settled over her like a weight.