Amara gripped the Veil until her knuckles turned white. It pulsed violently, as if warning her of what awaited. Cortez's meddling had left cracks across the threads of time, and Kailan's grim tone didn't help.
"He's no longer content with the past," Kailan said. "Cortez is shaping the future. If he solidifies his version of it, your world will never return."
"Then I have to stop him," Amara whispered. Her voice was calm, but inside, she trembled. "Show me where he is."
The Veil responded, its light forming a jagged path through the void of time. The thread glowed a harsh crimson, unlike any ripple she'd seen before.
"Are you ready?" Kailan asked.
"No," she said honestly, "but I'm going anyway."
The Veil flared—and swallowed her whole.
---
2147: Cyber Manila
Amara landed in the middle of a street, and her breath caught in her throat.
The Manila of 2147 was unrecognizable. Towering neon skyscrapers loomed over dark alleys, their windows glowing with digital advertisements. Hover-jeepneys hummed through the sky, while the streets below were patrolled by armored drones that scanned every passerby.
But the most chilling sight was the massive hologram above the skyline: Elias Cortez's face, grinning like a tyrant.
Beneath it, bold letters read: "THE ERA OF CONTROL."
Amara's stomach twisted. This wasn't just a possible future—it was his future, the one he was trying to lock into reality.
She ducked into the shadows of an abandoned market, the Veil tucked under her arm. "Where is he?" she muttered.
Kailan materialized beside her, his form flickering from the unstable threads. "He's near the Central Tower. He's already altering events here, embedding himself as the architect of this timeline. If we don't stop him, this reality will overwrite yours."
"Then we have to end this," Amara said, her voice trembling but resolute.
They moved through the city's maze of streets, avoiding drones and scanners. Every now and then, Amara caught glimpses of what life was like under Cortez's rule—holographic billboards with propaganda, children in ragged clothes being monitored by floating machines, and people whispering his name like a god they feared.
At the base of the Central Tower, Amara finally saw him. Cortez stood on a balcony, dressed in a sleek black coat lined with circuitry, holding a shard of the Veil like it was his personal scepter.
"Amara," he called down, smiling. "You made it. I knew you'd come."
She stepped out of the shadows. "What have you done?"
"Something no historian, no leader has ever dared to do—fix history," he said, spreading his arms as if to embrace the glowing city. "This world is perfect. Efficient. No wars, no poverty. All because I made the right changes."
"You destroyed free will!" Amara shouted. "You've turned this world into a prison!"
Cortez tilted his head, amused. "Funny. You talk about rules, but you can't deny the power this artifact gives us. Why observe when we can shape everything?"
The Veil in Amara's hands pulsed wildly, as if aware of the danger. Kailan's voice cut through the tension.
"There is only one way to stop him now," Kailan said. "Destroy the Veil. If you shatter it, every thread it touched will reset. Your world, your life—everything will return to its natural course. But you… will vanish. You will no longer exist in the restored timeline."
Amara froze, her breath catching. "If I destroy it… I'll die?"
"Not die," Kailan said gently. "You will never have existed at all. But your world will survive."
Cortez laughed from above. "Do you hear yourself? He's asking you to sacrifice yourself for people who won't even remember your name. Come with me instead, Amara. Together, we can shape time. Be gods."
Amara's grip tightened on the Veil, torn between survival and sacrifice.
Suddenly, the Veil showed her a flash of her parents' faces—happy and alive. Then Jun's laughter during their excavations. Her grandfather's warm smile. All fading, all cracking like shattered glass.
Tears welled in her eyes.
"I'm not a god," she said, voice breaking. "I'm just… me."
Cortez's smirk faltered.
Amara raised the Veil over her head, ready to strike.
to be continued..