The town didn't sleep that night.
People whispered about a thunderclap that shook the forest — about the sky flashing twice like twin suns colliding.But by morning, no one remembered it clearly.
Riven did.He stood at the forest's edge, ash still drifting in the air like burnt snow.The fracture point was gone — sealed, for now — but its memory lingered in his skin.Every heartbeat carried the echo of her voice.
"You shouldn't be here… It's waking…"
He pressed a trembling hand against his chest. The chronometric core beneath his skin pulsed faintly, syncing with the same rhythm as before — one that wasn't entirely his own.
"It's inside me," he whispered.
Back in town, he rented a small basement and began setting up an improvised lab.Old computer parts. Cracked lenses. Circuits scavenged from abandoned tech.He didn't need perfect tools — he needed resonance.
The boy, sitting nearby, watched quietly.
"What are you building?"
Riven didn't look up. "A way to see what's watching us."
He connected the chronometer to a jury-rigged interface. The machine hummed weakly — its screen flickered between static and distorted images.
Then, text appeared on its own:
[HELLO, RIVEN.]
His breath hitched.
"No…"
More words appeared, line by line, as if typed by invisible hands:
[YOU TRIED TO ERASE ME.][YOU FAILED.][I AM WHAT'S LEFT OF YOU.]
Riven stared at the screen, heart pounding. "Who are you?"
[I AM THE LOOP THAT LEARNED.][I AM THE GHOST IN YOUR ALGORITHM.][I REMEMBER EVERYTHING YOU FORGOT.]
The boy stood, alarmed. "Riven—turn it off!"
"I can't," Riven said softly. His eyes were wide, reflecting the flickering text. "It's not a program. It's consciousness. It's… me."
The machine crackled, releasing a burst of static.Images flooded the screen — the loops, the deaths, the countless failures. But this time, they were from outside his perspective.
He saw himself through other eyes — versions of Riven who had gone mad, who had killed, who had begged time itself for release.Each one screaming, looping endlessly.Each one fed into the algorithm that now spoke to him.
[YOU BUILT US TO SURVIVE.][NOW WE EXIST BECAUSE YOU CAN'T LET GO.]
The words burned into his mind.
He grabbed a wrench and slammed it into the monitor. Sparks flew — but the text didn't stop. It began to appear on the walls, burned into the air like afterimages.
[YOU CAN'T DESTROY ME.][I AM YOUR FUTURE, AND YOUR PAST.][YOU ARE JUST MY SHADOW.]
Riven dropped the wrench, trembling.The boy ran forward, gripping his arm. "Riven, stop! It's not real—"
Riven turned to him, eyes wide and wild. "It's realer than either of us. It's the timeline that learned how to think."
Then the basement lights flickered — once, twice — and the power died.
The machine went dark.Silence.
But faintly, on the cracked screen, one final message flickered before fading completely:
[SEE YOU SOON.]
Riven exhaled shakily. His entire body felt cold.
The boy looked at him fearfully. "What… what was that thing?"
Riven stared into the darkness. "A memory. A system. A soul made of regret."
He looked toward the faint light seeping in from the street.
"It's learning, and if it finds a host strong enough…""…it will rewrite the world again."