Rixnovem (in her memory): “Remember, Elara, one of the powers you may choose is the ability to rewind time, but it is limited. It will allow you only five minutes back, no more.”
The words rang in Elara’s ears like an echo from another world. She felt their weight pressing down on her, but in the chaos of the café, they seemed distant, intangible. Her heart pounded, her instincts screaming at her to act—but then came hesitation.
Elara (confused, panicked): Rewind time? Five minutes? Undo what’s been done?
Her fingers trembled as she clenched her fists, trying to ground herself in the present moment. Doubts flooded her mind like an unrelenting tide, threatening to drown her resolve.
Elara (frantic, questioning): How? How does it even work? What does rewinding even mean? Can I undo death? What if I make things worse?
She closed her eyes, searching for focus, but was instead met with a swirling storm of doubts and questions. A cold, mocking voice—a twisted version of herself—snarled within her mind.
Elara (mocking herself, bitter): Why does it matter, anyway? Rosie’s just another person. People die all the time. Why should you care?
The thought hit her like a slap, and she recoiled, shaking her head violently as if to expel the venomous voice.
Elara (resolute, defiant): No. I do care. I have to care. I’m the only one who can do something right now.
But the doubt refused to leave, its grip tightening.
Elara (fearful, self-critical): What if you fail? What if the power doesn’t work—or worse, what if it does? Would Rosie even thank you for this? What if she doesn’t want to be saved?
Elara sucked in a shaky breath, trying to steady her pounding heart. She knew she didn’t have time to spiral—not now. Ironically, time itself was her enemy. Yet, the weight of responsibility crushed her all the same.
Elara (desperate): What if rewinding is a lie? What if I’m not even capable of changing anything?
Her vision blurred as fear surged, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around herself, whispering softly into the chaos of her own mind.
Elara (self-reassuring): “If I were myself, would I even care? Would I even try?” Her voice wavered at first, but with each word, it grew steadier. “Yes, I would. I have to.”
She drew a deep breath and forced her focus inward. Rixnovem’s voice surfaced again, sharp and commanding: “Five minutes, no more.”
Elara exhaled, closing her eyes and letting the power rise within her. She leaned into it, surrendering to the strange, primal sensation stirring in her chest. It felt like a thread being pulled tight, a sharp tug that made her breath hitch as the world around her began to warp.
The café blurred and unraveled, as though a film reel were spinning backward. Laughter, the clatter of dishes, Rosie’s scream—all of it faded, collapsing inward into an oppressive, deafening silence. The air shifted, sharp and cold, and for a moment, she felt as if she stood in a vast, empty void.
Time pulled her backward, unwinding the last five minutes. She felt the gunshot reverse, Rosie’s fall undone, and the chaos retreating into nothingness. And then it stopped.
Elara opened her eyes.
She was back among the café’s patrons. The nervous robber stood in the corner, his hand hovering over the gun, his face tense but calm—for now. Rosie was at the counter, laughing at something the barista said.
It was as if none of it had ever happened.
Elara’s heart raced as relief surged through her, but it was fleeting, quickly replaced by the crushing weight of realization: Rosie’s life was in her hands now. Every decision Elara made in the next moments would decide everything.
Her breaths came fast and shallow, her resolve shaky but growing.
Elara (determined, encouraging): This is your chance. Your only chance. Don’t waste it.
But the cold, sneering voice returned, lacing her thoughts with doubt:
Elara (taunting herself): You’ve bought her five minutes. What if you can’t do any better this time?
She clenched her fists, jaw tightening as she shoved the thought aside. Her focus zeroed in on the robber, his every movement magnified in her sharpened awareness.
Elara (resolute): No. I’ll make this right. I have to.
With renewed determination, she stepped forward, the weight of time—and her choices—bearing down on her shoulders.
As time resets, Elara—still invisible—stands beside Rosie, her heart hammering against her chest. She catches sight of the robbers again: the nervous one gripping the gun tightly, his hand trembling, and the calmer one barking instructions. Chaos threatens to erupt again, and she knows she has only moments to act.
Nervous Robber: “Hey! Y-you—open the register! I don’t have all night!”
When the cashier hesitates, the nervous robber’s agitation spikes. He swings his gaze toward Rosie’s table, the gun waving erratically.
Nervous Robber (with a shaky shout): “You! Yeah, you! Start putting your stuff in the bag!”
Rosie, her face pale, clutches her purse, exchanging a wide-eyed look with her friends. No one moves fast enough, the tension in the air growing thick and nearly suffocating.
Calm Robber (low but firm): “Just do it. Don’t make this hard.”
Elara clenches her fists, her mind racing. The power Rixnovem gave her is fading fast, and she knows she has only one shot to intervene. She silently approaches the nervous robber, her presence cloaked, her breath steady despite her fear.
Elara (to herself, desperate): Come on, Elara. You’ve already seen what happens if you don’t act. This is your chance—no, this is their chance. Don’t screw this up.
The nervous robber takes a shaky step forward, his finger twitching on the trigger. Elara sees the fear in his eyes, his voice unconvincing even to himself.
Nervous Robber: “I said move! Don’t you—don’t you test me!”
In a swift motion, Elara slides to his side and slams her shoulder against his arm, throwing off his aim. His grip falters, and the gun clatters to the ground, sliding across the tiled floor.
Nervous Robber (startled, panicked): “What the—?! What happened?! My arm—did someone—?”Rosie (eyes wide): “What just happened?! Did… did you see that?!”Friend (frozen, whispering): “No, I—what’s going on?”
The calmer robber glares at his partner, his frustration boiling over.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
Calmer Robber (furious, barking): “What are you doing?! Just grab the cash and let’s go! Stop screwing around!”
As the calmer robber steps toward the counter, Elara drops low, her eyes locked on the gun. With a quick, fluid motion, she slides it under a table, ensuring it’s out of reach. The nervous robber lunges toward the gun’s former location, his hands grasping at empty air.
Nervous Robber (desperate): “Where is it?! I just had it!”Calmer Robber (snarling): “What are you talking about? Get it together!”
Behind the counter, the cashier takes advantage of the commotion to press the silent alarm button. The faintest click is barely audible, but Elara hears it, relief washing over her for a moment.
Elara (to herself, tense): Okay. That’s one thing done. Now keep them from panicking. Just a little longer until the cops show up.
She backs away, the glow of her power fading. Her body begins to shift, her hands shrinking, her view of the café changing as she morphs back into her small feline form. She barely has time to react as the calmer robber smashes his fist against the counter in frustration.
Calmer Robber (growling): “This is a waste of time. Let’s get out of here before—”
Distant sirens wail, growing louder. The robbers exchange a panicked glance before making a break for the door.
Rosie (to her friend, shaking): “Are they leaving? Is it over?”Friend (hesitant, clutching Rosie’s arm): “I think so. Did you see what happened with the gun? It just… disappeared!”
Elara, now in her feline form, watches from under a table, her ears twitching as Rosie and her friend whisper. Rosie crouches, peeking under the table as if sensing something.
Rosie (softly, curious): “Wait… is that… a cat?”
Elara freezes, her golden eyes locking with Rosie’s for a split second before darting toward the door. She slips out just as the police arrive, leaving the café in a flurry of questions and chaos.
Outside, Elara perches on a nearby wall, her body trembling from the exertion. The weight of what she just did sinks in, and doubts creep into her mind.
Elara (to herself, critical): What if I missed something? What if they had another weapon? What if this wasn’t enough to save Rosie?
But as she watches Rosie step out of the café, shaken but alive, she feels a flicker of hope.
Elara (to herself, resolute): No. I did the right thing. I saved her. That’s what matters.
Elara leaping onto a rooftop, disappearing into the night, her mind already racing with the next challenge she’ll face.
----------------------------------------
Outside the Café – Rosie’s Perspective
The group of patron spills onto the sidewalk, the adrenaline still coursing through their veins. Rosie leans against the cool brick wall, her hand pressed to her chest, where a peculiar discomfort lingers. Her friends huddle close, voices overlapping with concern.
Friend 1 (worried): “Rosie, are you okay? You looked like you were about to faint in there!”Rosie (shaking her head, dazed): “I… I don’t know. It’s just—something about all of this doesn’t feel right.”
Friend 2 (wrapping an arm around her shoulder): “Of course it doesn’t feel right; there was a gun in your face!”Rosie (whispering): “No, not that. I mean, it’s like… someone else was there. I felt it. When the gun dropped, it wasn’t luck. It was like…”
She falters, her eyes scanning the shadows as if searching for something—or someone—that isn’t there.
Friend 1 (confused): “Like what?”Rosie (hesitant, almost embarrassed): “Like someone was watching. Protecting me.”
Friend 2 (frowning): “You think some guardian angel saved you?”Rosie (thoughtful): “I don’t know. Maybe. I just—there was this presence. I felt it here.” (She touches her chest, wincing slightly at the strange, lingering sensation.)
Friend 1 (softly): “Maybe it’s just the stress getting to you.”Rosie (quietly, to herself): “Maybe…”
But deep down, she isn’t convinced. The moment the gun slipped, the way the air felt charged with an unseen energy—it wasn’t something she could explain. And that bell. She could’ve sworn she heard the faint jingle of a bell.
----------------------------------------
Elara Returns to Rowan
As Lyra—now back to her feline form—wanders through the quiet streets, the jingling of her collar echoes faintly in the night. Her mind churns with fragmented thoughts, flashes of emotions she can’t fully grasp.
Lyra (thinking): “Rosie. Why does her face feel so familiar? Like I’ve known her my whole life, but I can’t remember why.”
Rixnovem’s voice echoes in her memory, a faint whisper against the backdrop of the cool night air.
Rixnovem (in Lyra’s memory): “In saving others, Elara, you may start to remember yourself.”
She pauses under a streetlamp, her shadow stretching long across the pavement. The weight of her past, her present, and her choices pulls her down. She looks up at the darkened windows of an old bookstore and lets out a soft sigh.
Lyra (thinking): “Now that I’ve save someone, it feels like I’m closer to something… but it hurts, too. What am I even looking for? Am I saving them, or am I just trying to save myself?”
The jingling of her collar snaps her back to reality. She shakes her head and continues walking, her paws carrying her to the only place that feels like home—Rowan’s apartment.
----------------------------------------
Rowan and Elara – A Quiet Night Together
Rowan sits on the floor of his small, cluttered apartment, a blanket draped over his lap. He’s scrolling through his phone when the soft patter of paws reaches his ears. He looks up to see Elara padding through the door, her collar catching the faint glow of the overhead light.
Rowan (smiling): “Hey, there you are. I was starting to get worried.”
Elara leaps onto the couch, curling up beside him. He strokes her fur gently, his touch warm and soothing after the night’s chaos.
Rowan (teasing): “You’ve been out late. Chasing mice or saving the world?”
Elara lets out a soft meow, her way of answering. Rowan chuckles, leaning back against the couch.
Rowan (reflective): “You know, it’s funny. I wasn’t even planning to adopt a cat that day. I just walked into the pet store to get some dog food for my neighbor, and this guy—random stranger—comes up to me with this collar. Says it belonged to his cat that passed away. He insisted I take it. Said it’d bring good luck.”
He gently touches the collar around Elara’s neck, his fingers brushing the small bell that still jingles softly.
Rowan (smiling): “Guess he was right. You’ve been nothing but good luck since you showed up.”
Elara looks up at him, her ocean blue eyes reflecting a quiet gratitude. In her heart, she wishes she could tell him everything—that she wasn’t just a stray cat but someone who owed him more than he’d ever know.
Lyra (thinking): “You saved me before you even knew me. Maybe that’s why I feel the need to save them. To save you.”
Rowan leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his voice softer now.
Rowan: “You know, sometimes I feel like you’re more than just a cat. Like you’ve got this… presence. It’s comforting. Weird, right?”
Elara nudges his hand with her head, her way of saying, No, not weird at all. The two sit in silence for a while, the city’s noise a distant hum outside the window. For the first time that night, Elara feels a moment of peace, her heart settling as she rests beside the man who unknowingly gave her hope when she needed it most.
----------------------------------------
Rosie’s POVRosie finds herself reliving the café incident in a surreal, dream-like state. The colors are muted, the sounds distorted. She hears the chaotic shouting of the robbers and sees herself frozen in fear, the gun pointed directly at her.
Just as the robber pulls the trigger, time slows. A shadowy figure—glowing faintly with golden light—rushes forward. It’s Elara, her human form unrecognizable at first but unmistakable in her protective stance.
Elara steps in front of Rosie, arms outstretched. The bullet pierces her chest, and she collapses. Rosie screams, the sound echoing unnaturally in the dreamscape.
Rosie (sobbing): “Elara, no!”
Rosie bolts upright in bed, clutching her chest as if she had been shot herself. Her breathing is ragged, her heart pounding.Rosie (whispering): “Elara… Elara saved me?”
She stares into the darkness, the vivid dream replaying in her mind. Her hand instinctively reaches for her phone, fingers trembling as she opens a message draft addressed to Elara:
"Elara… I had this crazy dream. You saved me at the café. You got shot instead of me…"
Her thumb hovers over the send button. But then she hesitates, the weight of reality sinking in. She knows Elara is always busy with work, meetings, and deadlines. Rosie feels a pang of guilt for wanting to burden her friend with something that might seem like nonsense.
She sighs, deletes the draft, and puts the phone down.
Rosie gets up and pours herself a glass of water. The moonlight streams through the kitchen window, casting a soft glow. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts.
Unable to shake the dream, she picks up her phone again and scrolls through her photo gallery. Her heart aches as she lingers on pictures of the two of them:
* A selfie of them laughing at a café.
* A candid shot of Elara focused on her laptop, unaware of Rosie’s camera.
* A goofy picture from a picnic where Elara is mid-laugh, her carefree side shining through.
Tears well up in Rosie’s eyes. She realizes just how much she misses her friend and how distant they’ve become.
Rosie (to herself): “You’ve always been there for me, Elara. Even if you don’t have time for me now, I guess I just really miss us”
To be Continued…