Kallan steadied himself as the chamber seemed to shift and warp around him. The floor beneath his feet twisted, revealing an intricate network of moving gears and glowing symbols. He could hear faint echoes of Lyra and Cyrus calling out, but their voices seemed impossibly far away.
The Solstice pulsed with a rhythmic hum, and the glyphs on the walls flared brighter. Suddenly, a path materialized in front of him, formed of floating, translucent tiles. Each step ahead flickered with scenes—memories, dreams, and possibilities.
The voice returned, cold and detached. "To mend time, one must first understand it. Step forward, Kallan Riven. But choose wisely."
Hesitating, Kallan took a cautious step onto the first tile. Instantly, a vision enveloped him. He was back in his childhood home, a modest dwelling on the edge of Aeteris. His younger self sat at the table, tinkering with a broken timepiece under the watchful eye of his father.
"You've always been good with your hands," his father said, smiling. "But remember, son, fixing something isn't always about making it work again. Sometimes, it's about letting it rest."
The memory faded, leaving Kallan standing on the path. The next tile shimmered, revealing another vision. This time, it was of Lyra, younger and alone, scavenging for scraps in the city's underbelly. Her face was hardened, determined, yet there was a sadness in her eyes Kallan hadn't noticed before.
"What is this?" he whispered, glancing at the Solstice.
"Fragments of time," the voice replied. "Every choice you make shapes the world. To move forward, you must confront what you see."
As Kallan continued along the path, the visions grew darker. He saw himself standing over a broken machine, its gears dripping with oil. Around him, the city of Aeteris lay in ruins, its once-bright skyline reduced to rubble.
"No," he muttered. "That's not what I want."
"Yet it is a possibility," the voice countered. "Every action ripples through time, Kallan. The question is: which ripple will you create?"
He pressed forward, each step feeling heavier than the last. At the end of the path, a single tile glowed brighter than the rest. As he stepped onto it, the visions stopped, and the chamber returned to its original state. The Solstice loomed before him, its glow now steady.
"You have passed the first trial," the voice intoned. "But the path ahead is long, and the choices harder still."