"There are moments when everything that could be—everything that once was—swirls into one endless loop, repeating in a story you can't control. Or maybe you never had control to begin with."
---
Is it an another ordinary day?
Perhaps it is. The afternoon sunlight filtered lazily through the windows of the art studio, casting long, golden beams that danced over scattered paint tubes, palette knives, and half-finished canvases. The scent of linseed oil mixed with acrylic lingered in the air, familiar and grounding, like an old friend. A soft jazz melody crackled from a battered radio tucked into the corner, its notes weaving through the silence. Juno Luminara sat on a rickety wooden stool, sleeves rolled to her elbows, her scarlet-and-black school skirt brushing against her knees as she leaned closer to her canvas.
In her hand, a paintbrush moved in small, precise strokes, layering shadows over the fractured image of a clock. Her brown hair, slightly wavy with a natural tousle, was loosely tied back in a half-knot. Strands escaped the knot, as always, curling around her face in defiance of any effort to keep them tamed. Sunlight caught the auburn undertones in her hair, and she absentmindedly tucked a lock behind her ear. Her hazel-green eyes, flecked with gold, narrowed as she studied her work—eyes that flickered with an uncanny light when she concentrated too deeply, like reflections of futures that hadn't yet come to pass.
It was always a clock.
Not just any clock, but a broken one. Its face cracked, hands frozen at exactly 5:57—one minute away before the evening, caught forever on the edge of something inevitable.
Juno knew why this image haunted her—it had been following her for years. She saw the clock in every dream she'd ever had, standing there, always waiting. It didn't belong. People weren't supposed to see clocks in dreams—everyone knew that. Dreams twisted time into strange, ungraspable forms, fleeting moments strung together in illogical ways. But not for her. In every single dream, that clock was always there: vivid, sharp, unchanging. Its hands, locked just before the night, haunted her like a prophecy she couldn't interpret.
And then there was the darkness. It swallowed everything in her dreams, a void that consumed not only the world around her but her sense of self—her name, her memories, her thoughts. She would drift through that black expanse, weightless and empty, and just before the nothingness could claim her entirely, the clock would appear, a silent reminder that time was slipping away. Those dreams always left her gasping awake, heart pounding in her chest, as if she'd outrun something terrible by mere seconds.
Juno's brush faltered in her hand, and she set it down with a soft clink against the easel. She rubbed her temples, trying to shake the memory of last night's dream—the same endless void, the same damn clock. The exhaustion clung to her like a second skin, and her mind felt tangled in threads of half-remembered nightmares. It was exhausting, living like this, never truly awake but never able to rest.
Her eyes drifted to the strange watch wrapped around her wrist. Its metallic surface swirled like liquid mercury, shifting as if alive. It had no hands, no numbers—just a smooth, seamless face that seemed to reflect her thoughts in its ripples. She knew better than to think of it as a simple accessory. The watch was something else, something tied to the strange visions she had been experiencing lately. It didn't just tell time—it obeyed it. Twisted it. Held it still when the world demanded it move forward.
The thin bracelet on her other wrist chimed softly as she moved, the moon-phase charms shifting, as if charting celestial paths she couldn't see. She wondered how long they'd stay in their current alignment before changing again. Sometimes, it felt like those tiny charms knew more about the flow of time than she did.
She glanced down at the unfinished painting, her thoughts drifting to the life she had left behind. Or, more accurately, the life that had left her behind. Abandoned as a newborn in the tangled streets of Aetherion, a sprawling city of rusted rooftops and faded neon, Juno had grown up cycling through foster homes that felt more like revolving doors. Some families had tried, but most didn't. She had learned to survive on her own by the time she was ten—how to move quietly, stay unnoticed, and trust no one.
Art had been the only constant, the one thing that gave her control in a world that was otherwise unpredictable and unforgiving. Where the rest of her life crumbled in fragments, she could sit with a blank canvas and bring order to chaos, brushstroke by brushstroke. It became more than a hobby. It became her language.
Yet, despite the brush in her hand and the comfort the studio brought, there was always a lingering void inside her. The feeling that she didn't belong anywhere—not in Aetherion, not in the homes she'd lived in, not even in the moments she occupied. As if time itself had no place for her.
The people she met along the way had always said the same things: You're distant. Aloof. Difficult to get close to. But how could she not be? How do you connect with others when you've spent your life slipping through cracks no one noticed? When every night is haunted by darkness, and every morning feels like a battle against the inevitability of being forgotten?
Juno exhaled, her gaze still locked on the cracked clock in the painting. It wasn't just a symbol—it was her. The version of her life frozen in the second before everything either fell apart or began again. She had never been able to decide which.
She flexed her fingers, feeling the tension in her knuckles, as if her body remembered the weight of all the fights she'd had to win just to stand here. Years of running, of scraping by, of refusing to give up even when the world offered her nothing but empty promises. She had survived Aetherion's streets, learned to live alone, and somehow kept moving forward even though the future always seemed just out of reach. And now, she found herself caught in the strange liminal space between who she was and who she was supposed to become.
"Hey, Weirdo. I mean Juno. You still working on that clock thing?"
The sudden voice belonged to her friend Maeve, who leaned against the doorway, a smoothie in hand. Maeve was all energy and color—bright lipstick, bright pink hair, even brighter personality. Juno looked up from her work, blinking a few times as if waking from a dream.
"Yeah," Juno said, brushing a stray lock of brown hair from her face. "I can't seem to get it right."
Maeve wandered over, peering at the canvas with an exaggerated squint. "You know, for someone who spends half her life in this room, you really love painting broken things."
Juno snorted. "It's called distressed aesthetics. You wouldn't get it."
"Right, right. You're the tortured artist type," Maeve teased, nudging Juno's shoulder. "Anyway, a bunch of us are grabbing food later. You in? Or are you married to this clock now?"
Juno hesitated for a moment, glancing at the half-finished painting. The truth was, she liked being alone in the studio. It was the one place where everything made sense—or at least, where nothing was expected of her. But Maeve's grin was infectious, and the idea of spending another Friday night locked away with paint fumes and silence suddenly felt depressing.
And besides, these friends of her would just spend their time again with passige-aggressiveness, commanding her to do things like she's their maid, and even constantly throwing backhanded compliments. A year of being with them, she can already see what will happen.
But if she refuses, no one would accompany her to her classes.
What choice does she have?
Choice. And the time.
Time is always it is.
"Yeah, okay," Juno said, setting her brush down. "Let me clean up, and I'll meet you guys in a bit."
Maeve gave her a playful salute. "See you in six, weirdo."
As Maeve left, the room grew quiet again. Juno exhaled slowly, staring at the clock on her canvas one last time. Something about the way it stared back unsettled her. She shook off the feeling, telling herself she was just tired.
She gathered her brushes, washed them in the stained metal sink by the wall, and wiped her hands on the hem of her worn black coat. The coat was far too heavy for autumn weather, but she wore it everywhere—it made her feel safe, wrapped in something familiar.
Juno glanced out the window, where the first hints of dusk began to settle over the city. The streets were bathed in a soft, amber light, the distant hum of traffic providing a constant lull in the background. People went about their lives—shopkeepers closing up for the night, students gathering on benches, pigeons cooing from lampposts.
Everything was normal.
Even the people she'll be with, she thought of it all as normal.
Normal, as everything should be.
For now.
---
By the time Juno reached the café where Maeve and the others were waiting, the sun had dipped low, leaving the sky a hazy purple. The café was a cozy little spot, tucked between a bookstore and a florist, with a worn-out sign that read The Clocktower.
The place smelled like coffee beans and cinnamon. Juno slid into a booth beside Maeve, who was already halfway through her sandwich. Across from them sat Riley and Theo, two classmates from her art history course, two males with two brain cells under their blonde short hair, these twins are the troublesome people that the golden boys on the outside but are the true wolves under their skin.
I wish I can get out of here now. A wish Juno had thought of.
They were deep in a heated debate about something or other—Riley gesturing wildly with a fork while Theo rolled his eyes.
"Ah, the prodigal artist returns," Maeve said with a grin, nudging Juno's shoulder. "We were starting to think you wouldn't show."
"Yeah, yeah," Juno muttered, pulling her coat tighter around herself. "I'm here, aren't I?"
They settled into an easy rhythm—jokes, complaints about professors, plans for an upcoming exhibit. Juno laughed along, though she mostly listened, content to let the conversation wash over her, pretending she really is having a great time with them.
But as the night wore on, she felt a strange tension building in her chest, a tightness she couldn't explain. It was as if the air itself had shifted—like being on the verge of remembering something important but not quite grasping it.
Her gaze drifted toward the café's clock.
5:57 PM.
Something tugged at the edge of her mind, a faint whisper she couldn't make out. She frowned, trying to shake the uneasy feeling. But the sensation only grew stronger, like a knot tightening inside her.
The second hand on the clock ticked forward—5:58.
"Juno?" Maeve's voice cut through the haze. "You good? You've been staring at that clock for, like, five minutes."
Juno blinked, forcing a smile. "Yeah, sorry. Just... zoned out."
But the tightness in her chest didn't go away. It felt as though the world was holding its breath, waiting for something.
5:59 PM.
The café lights flickered.
Juno's stomach dropped. The laughter around the table faded into static, distant and distorted, as if the world had been put on mute. She glanced around, but no one else seemed to notice anything strange. The clock's second hand crawled forward, unbearably slow.
And then it happened.
The evening struck—and the world stopped.
Everything froze. The laughter, the music, the faint clink of dishes. Even the air hung still, as though suspended in amber. Juno felt her heart skip a beat, her breath caught halfway in her throat.
The lights dimmed, and the world began to unravel at the edges—colors bleeding into one another, objects flickering in and out of existence. A sound echoed through the stillness, like the chiming of a faraway bell, growing louder with each passing second.
Juno shot to her feet, heart pounding. She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat. And then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw it.
A figure.
It stood just beyond the café window, shrouded in shadow, but its presence was undeniable. The air around it shimmered with an otherworldly glow, and its eyes—deep and endless—locked onto hers.
It raised a hand, and time shuddered.
In an instant, the figure appeared before her, as though stepping out from the folds of reality itself. It wasn't human—not entirely. Its form shifted like liquid, cloaked in swirling fragments of light and darkness.
"Juno Luminara," it spoke, its voice neither loud nor soft, but resonant, as though spoken through the very fabric of existence. "The hour has come. You have been chosen."
Juno stumbled back, her pulse roaring in her ears. "Chosen? Chosen for what?"
The figure smiled—a sad, knowing smile. "To become your purpose, Timekeeper. Your time is no longer your own."
Before she could respond, the world exploded into a cascade of shimmering light. Reality folded inward, and everything—her friends, the café, the clock—was swept away in a torrent of golden streams, each thread spinning endlessly into the void.
Juno felt herself falling, tumbling through space and time. And in that endless descent, she knew, without a doubt, that nothing would ever be the same again.
---
The dream wasn't new. It came in flashes, a haunting rhythm of distant memories that didn't belong to her, or maybe they did. Juno stood barefoot in a vast, swirling sea of stars. Somewhere beyond the reach of logic, she could feel their glow pulsating through her skin, as if each star throbbed with stories from lives she never lived.
She took a step forward—or maybe the world pulled her deeper—and the stars shifted. The vision morphed into the dull fluorescent hum of a classroom. She stood outside herself, watching her younger self fidget with a pencil. The familiar gray hoodie, worn jeans, and scuffed white sneakers screamed, "I'm invisible."
The scene moved forward, fragmented. Her mind drifted through time.
Juno as a toddler, gripping a drawing crayon tightly enough to snap it, surrounded by children who called her weird. Another fragment—her teenage self, curled up on her bed, earbuds in, ignoring the shouting voices beyond the paper-thin walls of the orphanage. And through it all, the dreams. The vivid, otherworldly dreams of strange places, ancient beings, and battles waged under skies stitched with cracks of lightning.
Each dream blurred into the next. The moments where she tried to fit in, only to realize that normalcy was a mask she'd never learned to wear.
"That girl's odd," they whispered in the hallways.
"Doesn't even try to be friendly."
"She's always zoning out—like her head's in some other universe."
They weren't entirely wrong. The truth was, Juno had always felt out of place. Like the world she lived in was a poorly written script, and she'd stumbled into the wrong role. She didn't have any grand ambitions, no purpose to chase. Others had dreams of becoming doctors, artists, heroes—but Juno had only ever wanted the dreams to stop.
In her waking hours, she'd buried herself in art. Maybe because creating something, anything, felt like the closest she could get to meaning. But deep down, a bitter truth gnawed at her. She was just a nobody. A faceless background character in a story that wasn't hers.
Or at least that's what she told herself.
The dreamscape shifted again, violently this time, like a page torn from a book.
Her mind floated between fragments—visions of nameless beings dressed in shadows, endless cycles of time twisting upon themselves. And then she was falling, falling into a void that had no bottom, no sky, just an endless pull.
A clock ticked somewhere, its sound sharp and deliberate. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
"Time," a voice whispered—a voice that sounded neither young nor old, human nor godlike, but infinite. The word echoed through her bones as if it had always been inside her.
Tick.
Tock.
The dream broke apart, fracturing into kaleidoscopic symbols—cogs turning, hourglasses tilting, sands slipping through cracks that shouldn't exist. She saw herself standing in an unfamiliar place, a symbol etched into her palm, glowing with an ethereal light that flickered between gold and silver. It was the symbol of time itself, ancient and alive.
"What is happening?" she thought, panic threading through her consciousness. "What am I seeing?"
For the first time in her dreams, she felt an overwhelming sense of clarity—as if the pieces of a puzzle she didn't know she was solving had clicked into place. This wasn't just a dream. It was something far bigger. Something inevitable.
"You were never ordinary," the voice whispered, like a secret woven into the fabric of time.
And just as the meaning began to sink in—just as she felt the enormity of it threaten to crush her—the dream yanked her back through the swirling cosmos. Memories, failures, small joys, and larger regrets crashed through her mind like waves.
It was everything, all at once. Life flashing before her eyes in reverse, spiraling into a point where she existed as nothing but possibility. Successes, tragedies, friendships, betrayals—they folded into one another until they blurred into something meaningless.
And in the heart of it all, she saw herself.
Not as the girl who drew in the margins of her notebooks or zoned out during lectures. Not as the kid the world dismissed and forgot. She saw something else.
Timekeeper.
That word echoed louder than the others, reverberating in the hollow spaces of her soul. And then it hit her—she had always known, hadn't she? Somewhere deep within, she'd known she wasn't just another lost face in a crowd.
The dreams, the visions, the strange sense of déjà vu that had haunted her since birth—it had all led to this moment. But why now? What was changing?
The cogs turned faster, gears grinding together in a mechanical symphony. She reached out toward the symbol glowing in her palm, but it flickered, slipping away like a dream forgotten upon waking.
Suddenly, the voice boomed with authority, no longer a whisper but a command:
"Awaken, Juno Luminara. The hour has come."
Her eyes flew open, her heart slamming against her ribs. She sat bolt upright in her bed, gasping for air. The room was drenched in shadows, the moonlight spilling through the cracked blinds, painting jagged patterns on the walls. Her hand still tingled where the symbol had been, though when she looked, there was nothing there. Just pale skin, trembling fingers, and the lingering sensation of something far beyond comprehension.
The world felt... different. Heavier, as though time itself had shifted around her.
"What the hell just happened?" she whispered into the darkness. Her voice was hoarse, unsteady.
And then, as if answering her question, a glowing interface appeared before her eyes, translucent yet crisp:
[System initializing… Welcome, Timekeeper.]
Her breath hitched. There it was—the thing that didn't belong, the thing that explained everything and nothing at once. A title. A curse. A beginning.
She didn't know whether to laugh, scream, or cry. So she did none of those things. Instead, she stared at the glowing system message, heart pounding, mind racing.
And at the bottom of the screen, new text scrolled into view:
[Title: Timekeeper]
Then, before she could process what it meant, the words shifted once more.
[Ability unlocked: Temporal Rewind. Usage: Automatic upon death. Reset point—1 minute prior.]
Juno's hands gripped the blanket tight, knuckles white. The words shimmered with an otherworldly promise, a lifeline that came with strings attached.
One minute before death... That's all the time I'll have?
Her heart hammered faster. Was this a joke? Some cosmic prank? Or was she already trapped in a game she didn't understand?
The system blinked again, offering no comfort:
[Inventory: Empty | Status: Healthy, Confused]
Then, just like that, the interface flickered out, leaving her alone in the dark.
And for the first time in her life, Juno Luminara knew without a doubt: the ordinary life she'd clung to was over. Something extraordinary had begun.
The air in the room shifted, thick with static, making every hair on Juno's body stand on end. She heard it before she saw it—a low, humming resonance, like the universe itself exhaling. Then, in the center of her tiny room, space folded inward with a deafening crack.
It started as a thin slit, slicing through reality like the edge of a knife through silk. Colors—too vivid to exist—poured from the crack, shifting between glowing purples and blues. The tear widened, twisting into a floating mirror that rippled like water. It pulsed with power, surging in time with the erratic beats of her heart.
Juno stumbled back, slamming into the wall, her breath caught somewhere between a scream and disbelief. "What the—?"
The voice returned, now clearer, surrounding her like an omnipresent force that echoed from every direction and none.
"I am the Aspect of Time."
The words were heavy, ancient, like they had existed long before language itself. They resonated deep within her, pressing down on her mind like gravity cranked to its breaking point.
"What... is this?!" Juno gasped, chest tight with panic as the rift hovered there—beautiful and terrifying, flickering between existence and something that shouldn't be.
The voice answered calmly, as if the question had been asked a thousand times before. "The Void has begun its invasion. Rifts between realms are forming—gaps in the fabric of space and time. If left unchecked, the Void will consume every timeline, every possibility. All existence will collapse into nothing."
Juno swallowed hard, her heart slamming painfully in her chest. "That's... nice. But why tell me?" she demanded, her voice cracking under the weight of the absurdity unfolding before her. "I'm not some kind of hero! You've got the wrong person!"
The rift pulsed, as if responding to her denial. Blue tendrils of energy lashed out like lightning, flickering against the walls. Her clock hand hairpin caught the light, flashing a sharp glint of silver that made her wince.
"You are the Timekeeper. Your life was empty. You only had time. And time was the only thing you've chosen your whole life. All of it led you here."
"Oh..." Juno ran out of words from what it said.
"It is your duty to seal these rifts before the Void consumes every reality."
She shook her head violently, gripping her hair like she could pull the pressure from her skull. "No, no, no. I'm not anyone! I'm just some kid who gets weird dreams and sucks at life!" The words tumbled out before she could stop them. "I don't even know how to make friends, let alone save the damn universe."
"It is already written into your existence. You cannot run from what you are."
Her body trembled, a cold sweat forming at the nape of her neck. The weight of the words crushed down on her, but fear dug its claws deeper. "No... I can't do this. I'm not strong enough."
The rift shimmered, its chaotic energy whispering of infinite realms on the other side. A command echoed from the voice—timeless and inescapable. "Step forward, Juno Luminara."
For a moment, she did nothing, her mind teetering between disbelief and sheer panic. Her limbs felt like lead. Every instinct screamed for her to bolt out the door and never look back.
But something else stirred in her—something small but persistent. A flicker of curiosity. She stepped toward the rift without realizing it, as if her body moved before her mind could catch up.
The moment her fingers brushed the swirling surface, the rift surged open, swallowing her whole.
---
She was falling.
The world around her twisted inside out, colors bleeding into one another like wet paint smeared across glass. Time stretched and folded over itself in a chaotic loop—seconds becoming hours, minutes compressing into milliseconds.
And then everything snapped back into place.
Juno landed hard, knees buckling as she staggered forward, catching herself on the edge of a cold metal counter. She gasped for air, her lungs burning like she'd just run a marathon. The smell of espresso and burnt toast hit her senses all at once.
Her head jerked up, eyes darting around frantically. She was back in the café—the same one she had left earlier that day. The hum of machinery, the clinking of ceramic cups, and the quiet buzz of conversation filled the room like a familiar lullaby, with Maeve, Riley, and Theo—whispering while looking at her.
For a brief moment, everything seemed... normal.
But then she saw it.
Another rift.
It hovered just above the coffee machines, a jagged tear in reality pulsing with the same chaotic energy as the one in her room. Purple and blue lightning crackled along its edges, sending sparks flying.
And before she could even register what was happening, something stepped through.
The beast emerged with a crackling snarl—a massive wolf, twice the size of any normal animal, its fur shimmering like storm clouds laced with electric currents. Its eyes were molten gold, glowing with unnatural hunger. Sparks of electricity danced along its sharp, silvered fangs.
"What the..."
The café erupted into chaos. People screamed and scrambled for the exit, chairs overturned, and glass shattered as the wolf lunged forward. A burst of electricity arced from its body, striking a barista who collapsed in a lifeless heap, smoke curling from his clothes.
Juno's heart stopped. Her body locked in place, cold terror spreading through her veins like ice.
"No, no, no..." she whispered, her voice trembling as the wolf turned its glowing eyes toward her. Its gaze pinned her down, a predator recognizing easy prey.
The system flickered into view, sharp and unfeeling:
[Enemy identified: Thunderfang Alpha | Class: A | Title: The Storm's Herald]
Her vision blurred as panic surged through her. People were still trying to escape—screaming, tripping over each other, some making it out, others not.
Electric arcs lashed from the beast's body again, searing through metal and flesh alike. A young girl's scream was cut short as she was thrown against the wall, lifeless. Blood pooled on the floor, mixing with spilled coffee and shards of broken mugs.
It was Maeve. Her eyes are open staring at Juno
Her uniform bloody. Her bones broken.
"Urgh..." Maeve was heard as she reaches her hand to the twins near, who continued screaming in response.
The wolf then finally crushed her head and leaped to Riley and Theo, who had been crushed by its fangs in an instant.
The screams were heard again.
Everyone ran.
And time kept running.
Juno's hands shook violently. She wanted to run, to hide, to disappear—just like she always did. She was no fighter, no hero. She was just... Juno.
Do something. Do something! her mind screamed. But her legs refused to move, rooted in place by the weight of fear.
The wolf snarled again, electricity snapping through the air as it stalked closer. The scent of ozone filled the room, sharp and suffocating. The beast's growl vibrated through her bones, each step heavy with lethal intent.
Juno's pulse hammered in her ears. She felt time slow—not through any power of hers, but from sheer adrenaline, every second dragging out into eternity.
Suddenly. A jolt of cold energy shot through her arm, and the system blinked to life:
[Ability activated: Temporal Shift]
The world around her shimmered. The air thickened as time warped. Her surroundings flickered—frames misaligned, like a film reel skipping between seconds.
But the wolf was still coming. Fast. Too fast.
I'm not ready for this. I can't do this!
She looked around desperately, hoping for a way out, but all she saw was chaos—bodies, broken tables, the beast stalking toward her, lightning crackling in its fur.
Her heart pounded against her ribs, the system chiming coldly in her mind.
[Inventory: Empty | Status: Terrified]
The wolf lunged.
And in that instant, Juno realized something horrifying. There was no escape. Not from this moment. Not from what she was becoming.
Juno's instincts kicked in—her body acting faster than her thoughts could catch up. She threw herself sideways, the beast's jaws snapping shut where her shoulder had been only a heartbeat ago. She hit the ground hard, gasping as the air was knocked from her lungs, her limbs scraping against broken glass and overturned chairs.
The beast snarled, paws skidding across the tile floor as it whipped around to face her again. Lightning crackled across its fur, casting eerie shadows that danced along the café walls. Juno scrambled backward, her palms pressing into the gritty floor, her heartbeat pounding in her ears like war drums.
Then it happened.
The wolf raised its head and howled—a deafening, bone-rattling sound that made the air hum with raw energy. A pulse of electricity shot outward in a deadly arc, crackling through the walls, the ceiling, the furniture—and then it found her.
Juno barely had time to react. She saw the lightning before she felt it—a jagged, white-hot web that danced across the room, drawn straight to her like metal to a magnet. It hit her chest, and every muscle in her body locked in place, paralyzed by searing pain.
Her vision flickered. The scent of ozone filled her nostrils as her body jerked uncontrollably, nerves alight with agony. Her hands twitched, her fingers spasming as if they no longer belonged to her.
The world around her dimmed, shrinking into a tunnel of darkening edges. She was falling—or maybe she was already on the ground, she couldn't tell.
Through the haze, she saw it: the wolf, looming over her, electricity still crackling across its fur. Its glowing golden eyes bore into hers, full of predatory hunger.
She then saw the corpse of the people around here, including Maeve, Riley and Theo. In one instant, they are dead, she wonders...
Is this all because of me?
They have died and it'll all went for nothing if she did too. It feels unreal to see them dead, these people she's with, despite their hidden cruelty, they are dead, and soom she'll be too.
I can't die here. I haven't even started yet. Not like this...
But the darkness pressed in, swallowing everything—the wolf, the chaos, the pain.
And then...
Nothing.
---
[System Error Detected.]
[Rebooting...]
[Timekeeper Protocol Initiated.]
[Ability Unlocked: Temporal Rewind | Reset: 60 seconds prior to death.]
The darkness that had claimed her vanished in an instant, like someone snapping their fingers to clear a fog from her mind. Her breath hitched—and then she gasped, a sharp intake of air that filled her lungs painfully.
The world snapped back into place.
Juno blinked, wide-eyed, her heart still racing in her chest. She wasn't on the floor anymore. She was back at the moment she'd first hit the ground—one minute before her death.
Her fingers gripped the cool tile beneath her, her thoughts racing. What the—how am I...?
The wolf's snarl echoed through the café, sharp and dangerous, just as it had the first time. It was the exact same moment. She had died—and now she was back, standing on the razor-thin edge of fate.
Her mind reeled, panic blooming like wildfire.
What the hell just happened?!
Did she hallucinate? Was it some kind of dream? No—this was real. Too real. She could still feel the ghost of that burning pain in her chest, the tingling aftershock of electricity crawling across her skin.
The system's cold, mechanical voice echoed in her mind:
[Temporal Rewind Complete. You have rewound 60 seconds prior to death.]
A chill ran down her spine. It wasn't a dream. It had happened—and now, she had been given a second chance.
Her mind screamed at her to run, to flee the café and leave this nightmare behind—but she knew better. There was no escaping this. If she ran now, it would just happen again. She'd die, over and over, until something changed.
After everything, it was not an ordinary day.
It was her last ordinary day.