Night seemed to fall faster in Nexara—or at least, that was how it felt to Alven.
After leaving the campus service route with Lica and Kael, the world appeared normal on the surface, yet fractured underneath. Floating vehicles still passed between towering buildings, holographic billboards continued glowing with neon colors, and people walked along automated sidewalks while staring at their screens. But in between all that, there were small irregularities that could no longer be ignored.
A shop display briefly showed time running backward for three seconds before returning to normal. Traffic lights at an eastern district intersection shifted from red to green and back to red without pattern. A man at a transit stop stared at his wristwatch in confusion, then tapped it as if it were broken. The city had not collapsed—but it had begun to twitch.
And Alven couldn't stop thinking that all of this might be happening because of him.
They stopped beneath the shadow of a quiet pedestrian bridge, far from the center of campus. Above them, the light trails of the transit lanes moved like glowing rivers across the night sky. Lica stood beside Alven, still holding her tablet against her chest as if it were the only normal thing left today. Kael stood a few steps ahead, facing away from the road, his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings.
"I've been patient enough," Lica said at last, her voice calm but fragile. "Now explain."
Kael glanced back slightly, but said nothing.
Alven stared at the pavement for a few seconds, trying to decide where to begin. From the explosion? From the Chronolocket? From the fact that he had seen Lica die? Everything felt too large to say out loud.
Lica looked straight at him. "Don't lie again."
That tone hurt more than anger.
Alven took a long breath. "Yesterday… during the explosion at campus…" He stopped, his throat tightening. "I saw you die."
The color drained from Lica's face.
"What?"
"I didn't know how to explain it back then. Everything happened too fast. The energy tower exploded, you were at the plaza, and…" Alven lowered his head, his voice weakening. "And I couldn't save you."
Silence fell heavily between them.
Lica didn't answer immediately. Her eyes searched Alven's face—perhaps looking for a sign that this was metaphor, a nightmare, or another lie. But what she saw instead was something worse: guilt too real to be fabricated.
"Then?" she whispered.
Alven tightened his grip on his bag strap. "The Chronolocket activated. I woke up twelve hours earlier."
Lica stared at him, then slowly turned to Kael. Strangely, the man didn't look surprised. Only tired.
"So it's true," Lica said softly. "You… really went back?"
"Not back," Kael cut in. "Shifted."
Lica turned sharply. "What's the difference?"
Kael was silent for a moment, then answered, "If you rewind a recording, you're still watching the same tape. But the Chronolocket doesn't work like that. It moves Alven's consciousness into another branch of possibility that hasn't fully collapsed."
Lica blinked slowly, trying to process.
"That's why things changed," Alven said. "I managed to pull you away from the plaza, but the disaster still happened somewhere else."
"I told you," Kael said coldly, "time always seeks balance."
Lica shook her head slowly, as if refusing to accept everything at once. "If all of this is true…" She looked at Alven. "Then since yesterday, you've been carrying all of this alone?"
Alven didn't answer. The answer was obvious.
For a moment, Lica's expression softened. Not because her fear was gone, but because she had just realized the weight Alven had been carrying from the very beginning. But before she could say anything, Kael interrupted again.
"If we want to survive tonight, we need to move. This place won't stay safe for long."
"Who exactly is hunting us?" Alven asked.
"Field units of the Tempus Syndicate."
The name sounded unfamiliar, yet like a missing piece that should have been there all along. Alven frowned. "What kind of organization is that?"
"A group that believes time should be controlled, not allowed to flow," Kael said, briefly leaning against a steel pillar. "They operate across multiple layers of power: research, security, city infrastructure. If they know the Chronolocket is active, they won't stop until it's in their hands."
"And you're different from them?" Lica asked sharply.
Kael looked at her for a moment. "I'm here to destroy it."
That sentence made Alven's hand clench instantly.
"No."
Kael looked at him directly. "If you keep it, Nexara will collapse."
"I'm not done using it."
The air froze.
Lica turned quickly to Alven, as if realizing that possibility had never left his mind. "Alven…"
"I said I'm not done." His breath tightened. "There's still too much I don't know. About my mother. About my father. About why all of this is happening."
Kael watched him longer than before, then said flatly, "Curiosity isn't a good enough reason to risk an entire city."
"This isn't just curiosity."
"I know." Kael's gaze briefly dropped to Lica, then returned to Alven. "That's exactly the problem."
The words struck deeper than they should have.
Before the tension could escalate, a low siren sounded in the distance. Not an ambulance. Shorter. More rhythmic. Kael straightened immediately.
"They're sweeping this district," he said. "We need to split routes."
"No," Alven and Lica said almost at the same time.
Kael frowned.
"I'm not leaving him alone," Lica said, pointing at Alven.
And without thinking, Alven added, "I'm not leaving her either."
For the first time since they met, something like emotion flickered across Kael's face. Hard to read—perhaps irritation, perhaps something bitter. But he didn't argue.
"Then follow me."
They moved quickly through a lower pedestrian path toward the old city archive district, an area quieter and rarely used by students. The buildings there were shorter than central Nexara, with older metal facades and less protected glass panels. Streetlights cast a pale glow, creating an atmosphere that felt almost alien compared to the bustling main city.
As they walked, Alven observed Kael closely. The man moved efficiently, almost silently. He always chose darker corners, always checked reflections before turning, and seemed familiar with narrow routes not even marked on campus maps. He was not ordinary. That was clear. The only question was: who had he been before becoming someone who hunted the Chronolocket?
They stopped in front of an old city archive building that was no longer fully operational. Its facade was worn, but the locking system still functioned. Kael accessed the side panel quickly using a thin device on his wrist. The sliding door opened slowly.
"Inside."
The interior was darker than Alven expected. Rows of physical archives stood tall on both sides, mixed with outdated data terminals and microfilm projectors rarely used in Nexara anymore. The air was colder, carrying the scent of metal dust and aged paper.
"Why here?" Alven asked.
Kael replied without turning. "Because this is one of the few places not fully synchronized with the central city network."
Alven understood. Less connection meant less surveillance.
They stopped in an old catalog room at the back. Kael closed the manual door and finally turned to face Alven fully.
"Now talk. What do you know?"
Alven hesitated for a moment, then shared what he could: his mother's message, the hidden video, the warning that his father wasn't a traitor, and the name Project Rewind. When he said it, Kael's expression shifted—almost imperceptibly.
"You know about that," Alven said sharply.
Kael was silent for a moment. "I know enough."
"Then start talking."
Lica stood beside Alven, silent but demanding the same answers.
Kael looked at the old catalog table in the center of the room, then said, "Your father, Dr. Satria Ardian, was not responsible for the lab accident. He was one of the lead scientists who tried to stop the final phase of Project Rewind."
Alven's breath caught.
"What final phase?"
Kael walked to an old terminal in the corner, powered it on, and entered an access code from somewhere unknown. The screen lit up slowly, displaying an outdated interface. Seconds later, an archive file opened.
A photograph appeared.
Dr. Satria Ardian.
Alven froze.
It had been years since he'd seen his father's face clearly. Only old family photos remained—faded and distant. Seeing a sharper, official image like this made something in his chest ache.
"Project Rewind was originally designed to predict and prevent localized temporal disasters," Kael said. "But it evolved into something much bigger. They wanted to create a system that could choose the most favorable future—and steer the world toward it."
"That's insane," Lica whispered.
"That's power," Kael replied.
On the screen, more files opened—energy diagrams, experiment logs, names of researchers. Then one red-marked entry stood out:
INTERNAL RESISTANCE SUBJECT: DR. SATRIA ARDIAN
STATUS: TRAITOR / ACCESS TERMINATED
Alven's hands trembled.
"They labeled him on purpose," he said quietly.
"To bury the truth more easily," Kael replied.
Alven stepped closer to the screen. There was an incident log beneath the status. He read quickly—then stopped at one line that froze his entire body:
Final incident triggered by forced attempt to halt primary artifact synchronization.
Primary artifact.
Chronolocket.
"My father tried to stop the first activation," Alven whispered.
Kael nodded faintly. "And that's why they silenced him."
The room suddenly felt too small.
For years, Alven had lived under the shadow of his father's name—treated like a stain. He grew up in silence, in questions, in a quiet shame he never fully understood. And now, all that remained was anger that had come too late.
Lica stepped closer. "Alven…"
He didn't respond. His gaze remained fixed on the screen.
Beneath the main document was a small attachment. Kael opened it. A short text record appeared—an unfinished internal note.
If the primary artifact synchronization succeeds, the fracture will not remain in the laboratory. The city will become the starting point. M. still believes there is another way. I do not. If something happens to me, protect Alven. Do not let them make him part of the system.
Signed:
S. Ardian
Alven's breath broke.
His father had written his name.
His father knew.
His father had thought of him—amid all that chaos.
Without realizing it, Alven's fingers pressed too hard against the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white. Beside him, Lica stared at the document, her eyes glistening. Even Kael turned his face away for a moment, as if giving space to something too personal to witness.
"I'm sorry," Kael said at last—and for the first time, his voice sounded human, not like a cold agent carrying warnings. "You should have known this sooner."
Alven slowly lifted his head. "If you knew all this… why only now?"
Kael met his gaze. There was something dark there—tired, almost like guilt.
"Because in many other versions of time," he said quietly, "I always arrive too late."
The words hung in the air.
Lica frowned. "Other versions of time…?"
But Kael didn't continue. Instead, he shut down the terminal and returned to alert mode, as if remembering they didn't have the luxury of lingering in answers.
But for Alven, that night had already changed everything.
His father was not a traitor. He was someone who tried to stop destruction. His mother disappeared while leaving warnings. And now someone from beyond time stood before him, saying he had been too late in countless other versions of reality.
If all of this had already happened before, then how many versions of himself had failed to understand his father before it was too late—and how many times would he have to lose the people he loved before the truth finally stopped feeling like punishment?