The attack was surgical.
Time did not strike Elias directly.
It reached backward.
Memories tore free—not his pain, not his trauma—but his origins. The hospital corridor blurred. Lena's face fractured, splitting into maybes, then dissolving.
"No!" Elias screamed.
Ash swore. "It's cutting your motive."
Mara clawed at the ground, sobbing. "Elias, don't let it—"
The memory vanished.
The scream that followed was not human.
Elias felt hollowed out, a vast absence carved where purpose had lived. He staggered, barely aware of Ash catching him.
"You see?" Ash said harshly. "This is how it wins. It doesn't kill you. It makes you empty."
The shadow receded slightly.
Elias laughed weakly.
"You made a mistake," he said.
The weight returned.
"You think I refuse because I'm angry," Elias continued. "Or broken. Or grieving."
He looked up, eyes burning.
"I refuse because endings shouldn't be owned."
Something cracked.
Not the city.
Not reality.
The shadow itself split—just enough to bleed.
Time recoiled.
Ash stared.
"Oh," he breathed. "You scarred it."