Rain fell sideways that night. It didn't pour — it sliced. Each drop struck like shards of glass, the storm screaming across Velmir County as if time itself was being torn apart.
Kaelith ran.
Behind him, torches burned through the downpour, their light jagged and furious. The villagers shouted his name, their cries twisting through the storm:
"Witch's boy! Time thief! Monster!"
The broom flew beside him, spinning to deflect stones and arrows. Sparks burst each time metal met bristle. Kaelith's lungs burned, his boots sank in the mud, and the forest loomed ahead — black trees with glassy bark, shimmering faintly under the lightning.
The Obsidian Forest.
No one entered it. Not even the bravest hunters. They said time folded inside that forest — that a single step could carry you forward a year or backward a lifetime. But Kaelith had nowhere else to run.
He leapt across a shallow stream, the broom streaking beside him. The moment he crossed into the first ring of trees, the world changed.
The rain froze midair again. Each droplet hung around him like crystal. The forest was alive with whispers — voices speaking backward, forward, in echoes that bent around each tree.
He turned slowly. The villagers had vanished. The forest had swallowed everything.
"Broom?" he whispered.
The broom rested still, pointing deeper into the trees. Its bristles glowed faintly — guiding him.
Kaelith followed.
---
He walked for what felt like minutes. Or hours. Or maybe days. In the Obsidian Forest, time had no loyalty. His steps echoed differently each time — sometimes fast, sometimes in reverse. Once, he looked down and saw footprints ahead of him that matched his own, as if he had already passed through.
Finally, he reached a clearing lit by floating lanterns. No — not lanterns. Memories. They shimmered like bubbles, showing fragments of lives that had been lived and lost: a girl feeding a crow, a man drawing constellations in sand, a child crying beside an empty cradle.
Kaelith reached out to touch one. The moment his fingers brushed the light, a voice gasped:
> "Don't."
He spun around. A girl stepped out from behind a tree. Her eyes were silver like his mark, her hair white as frost, and her expression caught between fear and awe.
> "You're real," she whispered. "I thought you were just a story."
> "Who are you?" Kaelith asked, lowering his hand.
> "I'm Liora. I live here. Or I think I do." She frowned. "I've met you before. Many times. But this is the first time you've met me."
Kaelith blinked. "That doesn't make sense."
She smiled sadly. "Not yet. I remember the future."
The broom gave a low hum, a sound Kaelith had never heard before — almost… cautious.
Liora stepped closer. "You're the new one. The Time Master. The Elders' choice."
Kaelith hesitated. "How do you know that?"
> "Because I remember when you broke time. And when you fixed it. And when you died."
The air trembled. The floating memories flickered, some vanishing, others turning to dust.
Kaelith's voice cracked. "You're saying I'm going to die?"
> "Everyone does," she said softly. "But you — you die again and again, across timelines. That's what it means to be a Master of Time. You don't live once. You live until the clock forgives you."
The forest darkened. In the distance, something moved — tall, slow, wearing the face of an hourglass. Its body shimmered like glass filled with black sand.
Liora's face went pale. "The Time Warden," she whispered. "It comes for those who meddle."
Kaelith clenched his fist. The mark on his wrist pulsed. The broom rose into his hand like a sword.
The Warden's voice thundered through the trees:
> "Kaelith Orin. Return what was stolen."
> "I didn't steal anything!"
> "You exist. That is theft enough."
The ground cracked, time itself folding in spirals. Kaelith swung the broom instinctively — and the world exploded in light.
---
When the light faded, Kaelith found himself lying beside a quiet pond. The Warden was gone. The forest was silent.
Liora knelt beside him, brushing dirt from his face. "You're stronger than I remembered."
Kaelith stared at the moon's reflection in the water — but the reflection was wrong.
It wasn't one moon. It was three.
Liora followed his gaze. "The timelines are crossing," she whispered. "The cycle has already begun."
The broom hummed low, almost like a heartbeat.
And far above, in the folds between time, the Elders watched.