The lab was buzzing. More than usual.
Everyone was running around, their voices drowned in the hum of machines and the frantic pace of their movements. I could feel the electricity in the air, not just from the power coursing through the cables, but from the urgency of it all. The Time Travel Machine (TTM) was almost finished. We were so close. So close, I could almost taste it.
"Ophelia! Grab me that fragment over there!"
Dr. Arlo's voice cut through the chaos and pulled me out of my thoughts. I glanced up, trying to steady my shaking hands.
"Right away, Doctor."
I rushed to the glass cabinet, my heart racing. My fingers trembled slightly as they reached for the glowing Exchaor crystal. It was beautiful in its otherworldly way—pulsing with a strange, iridescent light. The cool surface felt alive in my hand, as if the crystal itself had a pulse. A current of energy surged through me, making my skin tingle.
The Exchaor. A word that had become synonymous with destruction. With the end of our world as we knew it.
I handed the crystal to Dr. Arlo, my breath catching as I watched him take it. He didn't speak, his brow furrowed in concentration, his fingers already working on adjusting the crystal into the central conduit of the TTM.
The lab hummed with energy—machines beeped, wires connected, screens blinked in a frenzy. But amidst the noise, my thoughts kept drifting back to the machine. The TTM. This was it. This was our last chance.
The Exchaor—monsters from another world—had been terrorizing ours for over a century. They were like nothing we had ever seen. Not even the most vivid nightmares could capture their horrific forms—massive, shifting creatures, made of shadow and flame, with endless, empty eyes that seemed to see into your soul.
It all started with the Kharatia Empire. One of the Kingdom within the Kharatia Empire was Kricedia Kingdom. A once-proud kingdom, brought down not by war or famine, but by love. A prince, in love with a witch who claimed to be from beyond the stars. The people, the nobles, the priests—they all called her evil. A liar. A monster. And when the prince refused to abandon her, when he defied his family and his country to protect her, they killed him for it.
They burned him alive. They said the witch had possessed him, turning him into a puppet for her dark magic.
But they didn't know the truth.
In her grief, the witch's power exploded. The sky cracked, and from those cracks, the Exchaor poured into our world. They came in waves, an unstoppable flood, bringing destruction wherever they touched.
And they never stopped coming.
Now, twelve years later, we were here—standing on the brink of changing everything. The TTM was our last hope. It could send someone back in time to stop the Exchaor from ever arriving. It could undo everything.
But there was a cost.
It wasn't just about pushing a button. It wasn't as simple as erasing a single event from history. The timeline was fragile, and even the smallest change could have catastrophic consequences. The more I learned about time travel, the more I realized how dangerous it was. The machine had been tested dozens of times, but we still didn't fully understand how it worked—or what would happen once it was activated.
I glanced at the monitors, watching the swirling chaos of data as the TTM powered up. The air felt thick, charged with tension.
"Ophelia, initiate the sequence," Dr. Arlo said, snapping me back to reality.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. The moment had arrived. There was no turning back now. I glanced at the machine, feeling a knot form in my stomach. The TTM was massive—metal, wires, shards of Exchaor crystal all pieced together to create something that could change the course of history. Every part of it felt like a fragile link in a chain that, once broken, would send ripples across time itself.
One push.
One button.
And the world would be different.
But then—
A warning cry echoed from the monitors, cutting through the silence like a knife.
My heart lurched in my chest as I looked up. The sky outside the lab had already started to crack.
It wasn't the first time we had seen it. The cracks in the sky had been a constant for years now. They tore open the fabric of reality itself, and with every tear, the Exchaor poured into our world, each rift bringing more destruction. Some cracks were small, barely noticeable. Others… massive. Catastrophic. But this… this one was different.
The images on the screens shifted. The cameras outside the lab showed the sky in ways I had never seen before—dark, shifting, full of tendrils of shadow and flame. The breach was massive. Too massive. The number of Exchaor emerging from it was beyond anything we had ever prepared for. They were pouring into our world faster than we could count, their enormous forms blotting out the sky, obscuring the sun.
This wasn't just another rift. This was the worst breach we had ever witnessed. And if it wasn't stopped, it would tear everything apart.
"Get ready!" someone shouted, their voice tinged with panic.
"We don't have time," Dr. Arlo said, his voice trembling as he looked at me, his eyes wide with urgency. "Ophelia, you're our only chance. You have to go. Now."
My breath caught in my throat. I knew what he meant. The machine. The TTM. It had to be activated immediately if we had any hope of stopping this.
I turned to the others in the lab, but their faces were filled with fear—some even tears. They were helpless in the face of what was coming. There was no time to waste. This was the moment that would decide everything.
I clenched my fists, my thoughts racing. Could I really do this? Could I change it all? Could I undo everything? And more importantly, could I bear the weight of such an impossible task?
I looked back at Dr. Arlo. "You're sure?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded, his face pale, sweat slicking his brow. "You've spent your life on this project, Ophelia. You know the TTM better than anyone. We don't have a choice. You have to be the one to go."
His words rang in my ears. You have to be the one to go.
The machines around me hummed louder, the tremor in the ground growing stronger as the Exchaor approached. I could feel the panic building in my chest, but there was no time for fear now. No time for hesitation.
I took a deep breath. One step forward, and everything would change.
I stepped toward the control panel, my hand hovering over the large red button. The weight of the moment pressed down on me, every second a reminder that once I pressed it, there would be no turning back. The future—the present—everything I knew would be undone, lost to the delicate currents of time.
The ground shook again. A louder tremor. I could feel the Exchaor, even in this lab, even across time, drawing closer.
I looked at Dr. Arlo one last time. He gave me a final, urgent nod. There was no more time to wait. The world needed saving, and I was the only one who could do it.
With a deep breath, I slammed my hand down on the button.
The machine roared to life.
Power surged through me. The air crackled, a sharp, electric sensation running across my skin. Everything blurred, the lab seemed to melt away around me. My vision distorted. The weight of time itself pulled me in every direction, dragging me across history like a helpless leaf caught in a storm.
Before I could fully process what was happening, I saw it—just before the darkness took over. The Exchaor were charging toward the lab. Their enormous forms blotted out the sky, their monstrous bodies crashing through the atmosphere like a tidal wave of destruction. The rift in the sky was tearing open wider, and their shapes—horrific, incomprehensible—were speeding toward the earth.
But it was too late.
I had already been pulled back into time.
And in that moment, everything I knew—the lab, the Exchaor, the future—vanished.
I blinked.
The world around me had gone dark. The lab was no longer there. The familiar hum of machines, the flashing screens—they were all gone. I was no longer in the lab. The sky above me was clear. No cracks. No rifts. Nothing.
I had made it.
I was back. Before the Exchaor appeared. Before it all started.
But the question remained—could I stop it? Could I really change everything?
The clock was ticking. And with it, the fate of the world hung in the balance.