The streets of Aeteris bustled with life. Airships floated overhead, their engines purring like contented beasts. Vendors hawked time vials—small glass containers holding precious minutes—and the aroma of spiced steam buns filled the air. Kallan pushed through the crowd, his mind still reeling from the events in the Catacombs.
"Kallan! There you are!"
He turned to see Lyra, a rogue ChronoMerchant with a sharp wit and an even sharper dagger. Her dark hair was tied back in a loose braid, and her leather jacket was patched in places that told stories she never would.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," she said, falling into step beside him.
"I might have," Kallan replied, his voice low. "Or worse."
He quickly recounted what had happened in the Catacombs. Lyra's expression shifted from amused to alarmed.
"You touched it?" she hissed. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Before he could answer, the world around them shimmered. The cobblestones beneath their feet rippled like water, and the vibrant colors of the marketplace drained away, replaced by a monochrome hue. People froze mid-step, their faces contorted in expressions of joy, anger, or surprise.
"What's happening?" Kallan asked, panic creeping into his voice.
Lyra's hand went to her dagger. "A time fracture. And it's centered on you."
The air grew heavy, and a figure emerged from the distortion. It was cloaked in shadows, its form shifting and flickering like a poorly tuned hologram. Its voice echoed, layered and discordant.
"The Solstice has awakened. The clock is broken. And time… is no longer your ally."