Three days in this place, and my mind's unraveling. I came to master my time-power, to find a place in the world, but Ouroboros is a trap, not a cure.
Once you're in, there's no way out—either you let the chaos consume you or end it yourself.
The culling hour's supposed to be the goal, but it's more for me.
Last night, a note slid under my door, on paper like Morgan's from the day he died: it said RUN.... IT'S COMING FOR YOU. Its words are another scar.
It could mean three things: someone's watching me, something's hunting me, or someone's warning me. If a monster out there actually killed Morgan, my scars burn like I'm next.
I'm done with fear— if this i how I'm meant to die then I'll earn my death, stop this thing out there at all costs. A shadow shifted near the clocktower, and Asher's hand tightened on the note.
Gravel crunched underfoot. Theo approached, his dark eyes warm despite the misty courtyard's chill.
"Hey, Asher" he greeted "I'm so glad we had that talk about Morgan last night. It let some heavy stuff off my chest." His voice softened, vision blurring slightly from his power's cost.
Asher's scars twitched—easing under Theo's words. A faint smile broke through.
Rowan sauntered up, clapping Theo's shoulder. "You two set for CCT?" Asher's gaze flicked to the clocktower, its tick thumping like a heartbeat, the shadow from Morgan's death day lingering.
"Not what's on my mind," he muttered, fingers brushing the note. Rowan's eyes caught the gesture, reading its dread.
Lira and Nico joined, Lira's silver eyes flickering nervously. "CCT's got me on edge—hope am not the only one?"
Rowan smirked, "Relax, we'll crush it."
Nico's lined face tightened, voice cutting. "It's no joke. First CCT sets the semester—lose, and you're culling bait by finals."
Rowan groaned, "Way to kill the vibe, old man."
Asher shot back, "Clueless gets us dead. It's better we know what's coming."
Theo nodded, rubbing his eyes as his sight blurred further. "Asher's right."
Lira squared her shoulders. "Then let's move—can't be late." They strode toward the arena, the clocktower's tick swelling, Ouroboros's spires looming like silent judges.
The note's possibilities swirled in Asher's mind, whispering faintly, as if the academy itself was listening.
Elara watched from a balcony, her prefect badge glinting, unreadable. Asher's scars burned—whatever hunted him, he'd face it head-on.
The CCT arena sprawled beneath Ouroboros's gothic core, a cavernous stone pit carved into the academy's underbelly.
Blue Chronothite orbs dangled from rusted iron chains, their electric buzz casting jagged shadows across walls scarred with ancient Ouroboros carvings, their serpents seeming to coil in the flickering light.
The air hung heavy with sweat, ozone, and a sharp metallic tang, the clocktower's relentless tick thumping like a war drum through the stone.
Sixty-three first-years stood rigid in their game suits—sleek overalls emblazoned with the coiled serpent logo—shoulders tense, eyes darting under the orbs' cold glare.
Headmaster Talus loomed on a high balcony, his silhouette sharp, his gaze chilling the arena like frost.
Professor Gerald LeVert stepped onto a raised stone platform, his black robe billowing, an Ouroboros pin glinting at his chest like a blade catching light.
His voice, deep and deliberate, sliced through the orbs' hum. "First-years, welcome to Combat Chronothite Training. Ouroboros forges your time-cancer into power, but only the strongest survive the culling hour." He paused, eyes sweeping the crowd.
"Your abilities are both a gift and a curse. There are three types of time-cancer."
Gerald raised a gloved hand, slow and commanding. "Visionaries see beyond time—past or future—but pay with migraines that crush the mind and blurred sight that can blind."
"Time Benders, most common, manipulate time's flow—reversing, fast-forwarding, or freezing it. Each use could cause a physical body damage."
Gerald's voice sharpened. "Warpers, rarest, they bend reality through time. Their power is unmatched, but the toll is ruin—body or mind unraveling."
Gerald's gaze turned steely, the clocktower's tick filling the silence like a countdown. "Sixty-three of you, 21 teams of three: ideally one Visionary, one Bender, one Warper.
Since warpers are scarce, so some double Benders or Visionaries. Check your Chrono watches for your role Incase you don't know."
Asher's watch flashed—Bender.
"Capture three flags in the maze. Only seven teams can win. Losers face no immediate culling, but fail the final exams, and you are culled."
Gasps broke out, Asher whispering, "Safe for the first term," his voice raw with need.
"The first team out," Gerald added, "earns immunity for the year."
Rowan muttered nearby, "We have to make the seven, no matter what."
Screens blazed above, their blue light searing eyes, assigning teams.
Asher's: Asher (Bender, rewinds), Lira (Visionary, foresight), Theo (Visionary, weak-point detection).
Rowan's: Rowan (Bender, freezes), Nico (Bender, fast-forwards), Blake Farrow (Warper, manipulates solids).
Blake's eyes, cold as slate, met Asher's, unyielding.
Asher leaned in, voice low. "We help each other—survive together."
Lira and Theo nodded.
The gates groaned open, revealing a labyrinth of shifting stone walls, their surfaces slick with condensation, and Chronothite orbs pulsing like heartbeats in the dark.
Gerald pressed a button, deactivating Chrono watches with a faint click, unleashing their powers. "Begin!" he bellowed.
Teams surged into the maze, boots echoing on stone. Asher's team huddled in a shadowed alcove, Theo wiping his blurring eyes.
"Played this as a kid—stay low, hit weak points," he said, voice steady despite his hazy vision. Lira clutched their flag, a tattered cloth glowing faintly, her silver eyes darting.
"Something's coming," she whispered, a migraine creasing her brow.
A rival team erupted from a tunnel, their speedster Bender a blur, his reflexes boosted for a minute before agony would hit.
Lira's foresight flashed—five seconds ahead. "Asher!" she gasped, tossing the flag upward, her head throbbing, vision dimming.
Asher leaped, catching it mid-air, heart pounding as the speedster charged, boots skidding on slick stone, eyes wild with adrenaline.
Asher rewound time ten seconds, scars tearing across his arm like molten blades.
The speedster's blur reversed, stumbling backward, confused, as his team froze, their movements undone. Asher spotted their flag—a glowing scrap on a rival's belt, glinting under an orb.
He sprinted, dodging a shifting wall that groaned as the maze reconfigured. The speedster recovered, lunging again, but Asher rewound five seconds, scars splitting deeper, blood trickling down his arm, a fever spiking.
He snatched the rival flag, skin burning.
Theo staggered, dizziness overwhelming, blood dripping from his nose. "Speedster's knee—weak point!" he rasped, nearly collapsing.
Asher slammed his boot into the speedster's knee with a sickening crunch. The speedster screamed, collapsing as his power's minute ended, pain flooding his body.
The rival Warper roared, raising a trembling hand. The ground rippled like water, dragging Asher toward him, orbs buzzing louder.
Theo, dizzy and pale, spotted the Warper's overexerted wrist. "Stomp the ground—now!" he shouted, clutching his head.
Asher slammed his foot down, sending a tremor through the stone, jolting the Warper's brain.
The Warper collapsed, twitching, his power faltering as the ground hardened.
Lira, half-blind from her migraine, grabbed Asher's arm. "Move!" she urged, guiding them through a narrowing tunnel, orbs flaring.
Asher's fever raged, scars pulsing, but they escaped with one flag.
Nearby, Nico's hands aged as he fast-forwarded, dodging a rival, while Rowan's freezes left blood streaming from his nose.
Blake's cold Warper eyes watched, unsettling Asher, as the maze's walls seemed to pulse with the clocktower's tick, urging them onward.
Darel navigated the academy's shadowed corridors, the stone walls cold under flickering torchlight.
The clocktower's tick echoed, a relentless pulse following him from the CCT arena.
Asher's team had escaped with one flag, battered by their time-cancer costs—Asher's scars, Lira's migraines, Theo's blurred sight, Nico's aging, Rowan's bleeding.
He'd promised Lira a translator for the cryptic message, and Gaius, the grieving prefect, was his only lead.
He found Gaius in a dusty alcove near the library wing, the air thick with old parchment.
Gaius leaned against a pillar, his Ouroboros badge glinting, face pale, bandaged hand clutching a note like Morgan's.
"Gaius," Darel said, voice low,"I need you to translate this language for me" He showed Gaius the text, Il es despertus .
Gaius's eyes narrowed. "I know the language, but I can't translate without context. Why do you need it?"
Darel dodged the question, jaw tight. "Where can I learn it?"
Gaius sighed. "A secret library, under the east wing. Only the headmaster has the key that opens it. Talus keeps it close."
Darel's pulse quickened. "Get me the key then, you're closer to him."
Gaius shook his head. "No way."
Darel stepped closer. "You believed me about Morgan's murder. You said prove it— can't you help me with this favor."
Gaius's gaze hardened. "I said prove yourself, not that I'd help."
Darel's fists clenched. "Fine. I'll get it myself."
Gaius froze, hand twitching. "You're not stealing it, are you?"
Darel smirked. "I'm borrowing it, just without asking. What's does it look like?" Gaius muttered, "Brass, Ouroboros-carved, in Talus's office drawer."
Darel nodded. "I'll find it. And I'll prove to everyone that Morgan was murdered, and I promise you the killer will pay—bitterly."
Gaius's voice dropped. "Find them first, Darel, before you think of the punishment."
Darel met his stare. "I will find them."
The clocktower chimed noon, its bell vibrating the stone.
Darel and Gaius turned to the clock, startled, when they looked at the clock, the clock face shifted away from their side, like it was listening to their discussion.
A shadow flickered in the hall, gone in a blink