Sunday mornings in Aryavart were usually quiet—
families cooking breakfast, markets opening, drones humming overhead delivering morning papers.
But today, the city felt… suspended.
Jay noticed it the moment he stepped outside his apartment.
The air tasted different—still, heavy, like the atmosphere was waiting for someone to speak first.
His building's smart panels flickered with soft alerts:
> SYSTEM CHECK: TEMPORAL NETWORK LATENCY DETECTED.
NO ACTION REQUIRED.
Jay flinched.
Temporal network latency?
Even the city systems felt the fractures.
He rubbed his temples.
"Great. Now the infrastructure knows something's wrong."
As he walked down the street, he saw small signs everywhere.
A drone paused mid-flight for a full second.
A street lamp flickered in a perfect rhythm—tick, tick, tick—matching the beat inside his chest.
A parked car's holo-screen glitched, showing the wrong year for half a breath:
2066
Then:
2081
Jay swallowed.
The world wasn't breaking dramatically.
It was breaking quietly—
the way ice thins before it cracks, the way someone exhales before crying.
And it all started after the archive recognized him.
He shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets and walked faster.
---
He met Reina in the plaza.
She was waiting with two cups of hot chai, steam curling upward into the cool air.
Her silver hair shimmered faintly in the morning light.
She smiled softly as he approached.
"You look like you didn't sleep again."
Jay took the chai and shrugged. "Sleep is overrated."
Reina's smile faded.
"You saw distortions too, didn't you?"
Jay nodded.
"Everywhere."
Reina bit her lip.
"That means it's spreading."
They walked in silence for a moment.
The city around them was normal… but not.
Too still.
Too symmetrical.
Too careful.
Reina glanced upward.
"You know what this reminds me of?"
Jay raised an eyebrow. "What?"
She pointed at the skyscrapers reflecting the same shade of light.
"A city holding its breath."
Jay's chest tightened.
Because that was exactly what it felt like.
---
Then the tremor came.
It wasn't an earthquake.
Not a physical tremor.
More like a ripple through air—
a small distortion sweeping across the plaza.
Birds froze mid-flight.
Holo-screens dimmed.
A fountain's water hung suspended for half a heartbeat before falling again.
The people around them blinked, confused, but unaware of what really happened.
Most shrugged it off as a momentary glitch.
But Jay and Reina felt it in their bones.
Reina grabbed his sleeve.
"That's the third one today."
Jay exhaled.
"Yeah. They're getting stronger."
Reina hesitated before speaking again.
"Jay… I think the city knows."
Jay blinked. "Knows what?"
"That something—or someone—is causing this."
Jay looked away.
He didn't want to believe he was the cause.
He didn't want the responsibility, the weight, the history clinging to him like an unseen cloak.
But deep inside, he knew.
Every distortion resonated with him.
Every tick in the air matched his heartbeat.
Every suspended moment felt like a whisper from a life he barely remembered.
Reina must've seen his expression change.
She stepped in front of him, meeting his eyes.
"You're not doing this on purpose," she said softly.
"You're not dangerous."
Jay forced a breath.
"Doesn't matter. If time is reacting to me—if the past is waking up because of me—what happens to the city? To everyone?"
Reina opened her mouth—
but didn't get the chance to answer.
---
Because that was when the announcement came.
A series of drones descended slowly over the plaza, projecting holographic screens into the sky.
The Aryavart government seal shimmered—lotus petals encircling a golden sun.
A calm male voice spoke:
> "Attention citizens: A temporal fluctuation has been detected in several districts of Aryavart City."
"There is no immediate danger."
"Please continue your day as normal. Updates will follow."
People murmured.
Reina stared at Jay with wide eyes.
"'Temporal fluctuation'? They're admitting it publicly."
Jay's stomach twisted.
If the government was acknowledging it…
things were far worse than he thought.
The broadcast continued:
> "The Aryavart Research Council is conducting an investigation.
If you witness unusual phenomena, please report them immediately."
Then a symbol flashed on the screen—
the same circle with a vertical line that had appeared in the classroom.
Jay's heart dropped.
Reina whispered,
"That's the symbol from the Clock Tree…"
Jay stepped back, breath shaking.
"I didn't tell anyone. I didn't touch anything outside the archive."
Reina nodded slowly.
"Which means someone else saw it."
Or worse—
someone else remembered it.
---
A sudden headache hit him.
Jay staggered, gripping his temple.
A sharp pain—bright, quick, like a memory forcing itself into the present—
shot behind his eyes.
Reina grabbed his arms.
"Jay! Hey—hey, look at me."
The plaza blurred.
People warped into streaks of color.
Voices turned into echoes.
Time stuttered.
And suddenly—
he wasn't standing in the plaza anymore.
He was in a clearing.
Soft dirt under his bare feet.
Wind brushing through a great golden tree.
The Clock Tree.
Glowing, alive, ticking softly.
And kneeling beneath it—
Parikshit.
White robes.
Barefoot.
Head bowed.
He lifted his gaze slowly, and the dream-memory shook with gentle familiarity.
His voice echoed through the fracture—
> "You cannot run from time, Jay."
"You can only decide how you stand when it reaches you."
Jay tried to speak—
but the clearing shattered like glass.
And the plaza snapped back.
Reina was gripping him, panic flooding her eyes.
"Jay! Jay, what happened?!"
He swallowed hard, breath uneven.
"I… remembered something."
Reina steadied him.
"A dream?"
"No," he whispered.
"Not a dream."
She looked at him with fear and concern intertwined.
"What did you see?"
Jay hesitated.
Then he finally said it:
"…I saw him."
Reina stiffened.
"Parikshit?"
Jay nodded slowly.
"And he said… something's coming."
Reina stepped closer, voice trembling.
"What's coming?"
Jay swallowed hard.
He whispered the only word that fit:
"Time."