The Time Keepers rarely ventured outside their towers, and when they did, it was always cause for alarm. Their presence in the streets of Chronos was a quiet reminder of the city's fragility, their silver robes shimmering unnaturally against the fractured light of the sky.
Rheika first noticed them as she made her way to the Archive of Echoes the next morning. Three Keepers were gliding through the marketplace, their movements fluid and inhuman. The crowd parted for them instinctively, heads bowed, their chatter silenced by an unspoken fear.
Rheika froze, clutching her satchel. Her heart pounded as one of the Keepers turned their head, their face obscured by a featureless silver mask. Though she couldn't see their eyes, she felt their gaze lock on her.
"You," a voice echoed in her mind, cold and metallic. The Keeper pointed a gloved hand at her, and the world seemed to still. "You are summoned."
Before she could react, the marketplace dissolved around her.
Rheika blinked, disoriented as her surroundings shifted. She now stood within the Hall of Time, the largest and most forbidding of the Keepers' towers. The room was vast, its walls lined with shimmering, translucent panels that seemed to display countless moments from history—some familiar, others alien. Time itself felt heavier here, the air thick with an oppressive energy that pressed against her chest.
At the far end of the hall stood a group of Time Keepers, their silver robes flowing as though caught in an invisible wind. They were faceless, their masks smooth and reflective, but their presence radiated authority.
"You are Rheika Voss," one of them intoned, their voice resonating as if it came from all directions.
"Yes," Rheika said, her voice trembling.
"You have been seen," another Keeper said, their tone as cold and unyielding as the first.
Rheika frowned. "Seen?"
The panels lining the walls shifted, their glowing images rearranging. One panel flickered and grew brighter, revealing an image of Rheika standing at the edge of the Rift, her face illuminated by its chaotic light.
"You have tampered with the flow," the Keeper said. "You have slipped between moments that were not yours to enter."
"I didn't mean to," Rheika protested. "I didn't even know I could until—"
"Silence," the voice boomed, cutting her off. The panel shifted again, this time showing her vision of the Erasure—the dark void consuming fragments of time.
"This is your doing," the Keeper declared.
Rheika's stomach churned. "That's not possible. I—"
"You have awakened powers you do not understand," another Keeper said. "The Erasure feeds on instability. Every shift you make, every ripple you create, weakens the fabric of time further. You are a threat to Chronos and to existence itself."
Rheika clenched her fists. "Then teach me how to stop it! If I'm the problem, let me help fix it!"
The Keepers fell silent for a moment, their faceless masks unreadable. Finally, the central figure spoke. "You must cease your movements through time. You must sever your connection to the fractures."
Rheika stared at them, incredulous. "You're asking me to stop being what I am?"
"We are not asking," the Keeper said.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Rheika's mind raced, the weight of the Keepers' warning pressing down on her. She wanted to shout, to demand answers, but their presence was overwhelming.
Finally, she found her voice. "You're wrong. The Erasure isn't just reacting to me—it's alive. I've seen it. It's growing, and if we don't act, it'll consume everything."
The Keepers exchanged glances, their movements unnervingly synchronized.
"You have seen," one said at last, their voice tinged with something that might have been doubt. "And yet, you do not understand."
"Then make me understand!" Rheika demanded. "Tell me what the Erasure is. Tell me why it's happening!"
For the first time, the Keepers hesitated. The walls of the Hall shimmered, and a single image appeared—a swirling vortex of light and darkness.
"The Erasure is a failsafe," one Keeper said.
Rheika's breath caught. "A failsafe for what?"
"For time itself," another replied. "The fractures cannot be mended. The Erasure ensures that what cannot be controlled is eliminated."
Rheika felt her knees weaken. "You're saying you created it? The Erasure is your fault?"
"It was necessary," the Keeper said, their tone cold and final. "Without it, the chaos would spread unchecked. The cost is unfortunate, but acceptable."
"Acceptable?" Rheika's voice rose. "It's destroying lives—entire histories! How can you call that acceptable?"
The Keepers remained unmoved. "It is the only way to preserve what remains of Chronos."
"No," Rheika said, her voice steady despite the anger building within her. "There has to be another way. The Echos can help. We can navigate the fractures—find a way to stop the Erasure before it destroys everything."
"The Echos are anomalies," a Keeper said. "Their very existence disrupts the flow of time. If you continue to defy us, you will force our hand."
"What does that mean?" Rheika asked, a chill running down her spine.
The central Keeper stepped forward, their silver mask inches from her face. "You will not survive our intervention."
The threat hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. Rheika's pulse quickened as she searched for an escape, her mind racing.
"You don't have to do this," she said, her voice trembling. "I'm not your enemy."
The Keepers raised their hands in unison, the air around them shimmering with a metallic glow. Rheika took a step back, instinctively reaching for the currents of time that Kai had taught her to sense.
The room seemed to ripple, the walls bending as if the fabric of reality itself was folding. Rheika felt the pull of the fractures, chaotic and disorienting, but she focused on the flow, letting it guide her.
The Keepers' energy surged toward her, a wave of raw power that crackled through the air. Rheika dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the blast.
"Stop her," one of the Keepers commanded, their voice cold and mechanical.
Rheika didn't wait. She reached deeper into the flow, feeling time shift around her. The room blurred, the Keepers' figures warping as she slipped through the fracture.
When the world steadied, she was outside the tower, gasping for breath. The streets of Chronos were quiet, the marketplace deserted. She stumbled forward, her legs weak, her heart pounding.
Kai appeared moments later, his face etched with concern. "What happened?" he asked, steadying her.
"They know," Rheika said, her voice shaking. "The Keepers know what I am—and they'll do anything to stop me."
Back in the safety of the Echos' chamber, Rheika recounted her encounter with the Keepers. The group listened in tense silence, their faces grim.
"They're lying," Rheika said, her anger rising. "The Erasure isn't just some natural force—it's their creation. They made it, and now they're using it to cover up their failure to control time."
Lyra scowled. "If that's true, then we're fighting more than just the Erasure. We're fighting the Keepers themselves."
Kai placed a hand on Rheika's shoulder. "You've seen the fractures. You've seen the Erasure. If anyone can find a way to stop it, it's you."
Rheika shook her head. "I don't know if I can. The Keepers warned me—if I keep shifting, I'll only make things worse."
"Or you'll make things better," Kai said. "The Keepers want you to stop because they're afraid of what you might uncover."
Rheika met his gaze, her resolve hardening. "Then we need to act fast. The Rift is calling to me, and I think the answers we need are there."
The group exchanged uneasy glances, but no one argued.
As Rheika stared at the map of Chronos, her determination solidified. She didn't know what lay ahead, but she knew one thing for certain: the Keepers had underestimated her.
And she would prove them wrong.