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The Tides Of Time
Chapter 8: Shifting Horizons

Chapter 8: Shifting Horizons

The days after the encounter with Emily blurred together, like a half-remembered dream. I tried to focus on my work, tried to bury the uncertainty that gnawed at me from the inside. But every time I picked up a tool or tinkered with the device, it was as if the world itself was slipping further out of reach.

I couldn't stop thinking about her—Emily. The woman I had left behind in the fractures of a timeline that no longer existed. The woman who now stood in front of me, seemingly real but impossibly altered. Was she truly a version of the Emily I knew, or had something else taken her place?

The questions haunted me, even when I tried to push them aside. And then there were the nights, when sleep refused to come, and all I could do was lie there in the dark, replaying every word we had exchanged. She said I was exactly where I needed to be. But what did that mean? What was I supposed to do with a reality that felt like a fractured reflection of the world I once knew?

I hadn’t seen her since that night under the streetlamp, and part of me was relieved. But another part—one I didn’t want to acknowledge—longed to see her again. To understand what she was, and why she was here.

The device on the coffee table still sat untouched. I had considered turning it on countless times, wondering if it could lead me to answers. But I hesitated, afraid of what I might find. Could I truly return to the fractured timeline? Could I fix everything—or would I just make it worse?

I tried to distract myself, burying myself in work that didn’t matter. But nothing seemed to fill the void. It wasn’t until I received an unexpected message that my world shifted again.

The notification on my phone lit up in the dark, the simple text staring back at me: “We need to talk.”

It was from Emily.

I froze, staring at the screen in disbelief. This couldn’t be real. Not after everything. She couldn’t have found me again.

But the message was there, and the desire to see her—to understand—was stronger than the fear that held me in place. I quickly typed back: “Where are you?”

Seconds later, the response came: “The old workshop. The one you’ve been avoiding.”

The old workshop. The place where everything had begun. I hadn’t been back there since the device had first malfunctioned, ripping apart the fabric of time. It felt like a lifetime ago, but the thought of returning to that place, to confront whatever lay there, was more than I could resist.

I didn’t waste any time. The rain had started again, heavier this time, drenching the city streets as I made my way through the familiar roads. Each step felt heavier, as if the weight of the past was pressing down on me. The shadows in the corners of my vision seemed to stretch longer with every passing moment.

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When I reached the workshop, the door was ajar, creaking softly in the wind. I hesitated, my hand resting on the cold metal handle, but I pushed it open.

Inside, everything was exactly as I had left it. The scattered tools, the half-finished projects, the lingering smell of oil and metal—it was all there. But it felt different now. More oppressive. More like a tomb than the place where I had once built things, where I had once felt in control.

And there she was, standing in the center of the room.

Emily.

But this time, she wasn’t the woman I had seen on the street. She wasn’t the woman I had once known. This Emily felt... different. Her eyes were darker, harder, like something had changed inside of her.

“Rohan,” she said, her voice soft but heavy with an unspoken weight. “I know what you’re thinking. I know you have questions. And I have answers. But not all of them are going to be easy to hear.”

I stepped into the room, the door clicking shut behind me. “I don’t understand. What’s happening? Why are you here?”

Emily sighed, as if the question had been coming for a long time. “You’re not the only one who has been caught in the fractures, Rohan. I was pulled in, too. But not like you. You were always meant to return. I was never supposed to be here.”

My heart pounded in my chest. “Then why are you here? Why now?”

“Because the fractures... they don’t just affect time,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “They affect us. All of us. Every version, every possibility, every choice. We are all tied to them. I’ve been trying to fix things. Trying to find a way back to my timeline, to undo the damage I caused.”

Her words sent a chill down my spine. “Your timeline? What do you mean? You’re not from here, are you?”

She shook her head slowly. “No. Not in the way you think. I’m a version of myself, yes, but I’m... fractured. Just like you.”

My mind raced, trying to process what she was saying. “So, you’re not real? You’re just—”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice firm. “I am real. I am just... not the Emily you remember. Not the one you knew before the fractures began. I’ve been pulled into this timeline, and I don’t belong here. But neither do you. Not fully.”

I took a step back, the weight of her words sinking in. “Then what am I supposed to do? How do I fix this?”

Emily met my gaze, her eyes filled with sorrow and understanding. “You can’t fix it, Rohan. Not without breaking everything. The fractures are part of us now. We are part of them.”

I felt a sense of hopelessness creep in. “So, it’s over? There’s no way to make things right?”

She shook her head again, this time with a faint smile. “No. There’s always a way. But it’s not the way you think. Sometimes, to move forward, we have to let go of what we think we know. The timeline, the fractures—they’re a part of us. But they don’t define us. You have to decide what you want to keep, and what you’re willing to leave behind.”

Her words echoed in my mind as I stared at her, trying to make sense of everything. It wasn’t just about fixing the fractures. It wasn’t just about undoing what had been done. It was about accepting that some things couldn’t be fixed, no matter how much we wanted them to be.

Emily took a step closer, her hand reaching out, but I pulled away. “I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if I can live with this.”

She nodded, her expression unreadable. “You don’t have to do it alone, Rohan. But you have to decide what’s worth fighting for. The timeline, or yourself.”

I stood there in silence, the weight of her words pressing down on me. I didn’t have the answers. But somewhere deep inside, I knew that I couldn’t keep running. I couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine when it wasn’t.

The question now wasn’t whether I could fix the fractures.

It was whether I could fix myself.

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