The lab trembled, the walls groaning under the strain of the quantum annihilation field. Every pulse of energy from the collapsing quantum field seemed to breathe life into the machinery. As the time collapse continued, the lab entered an unprecedented phase—a loop.
L-13 felt it first—a shift in the air, a sudden weightlessness as the very fabric of time seemed to fold in on itself. The hum of the lab changed pitch, and she saw the same scene replaying before her eyes. The energy field had triggered a quantum time loop, each cycle governed by the Fibonacci sequence: 1 minute, 1 minute, 2 minutes, 3 minutes, 5 minutes—each loop shorter than the last. The unfolding pattern mimicked the progression of time, the repetition of existence.
The loop had reset.
The lab around her remained exactly as it had been moments ago. Her body had no memory of the past; only the new time anchor set the pace for her movements, but her mind—her thoughts—were an echo of the previous loop.
Every restart was a cruel revelation. L-13 was forced to live it all again, each cycle a jagged cut through her consciousness. The loop was a merciless construct—her memories stacked upon each new cycle like layers of old paper in a collapsing drawer, brittle and decaying. Each time she awoke, the memories stretched and blended, the lines between past and present smearing until she could no longer tell one cycle from the next. Her mind was a jigsaw puzzle with pieces that never quite fit.
Meanwhile, the wolf king's memories were wiped clean each time—a blank slate. His golden eyes, once so familiar, met hers with the same confusion every time, the same untamed wildness, as if they had never seen each other before. The ache in her chest was worse with every loop, the sense of losing him again and again unbearable.
She could feel the disorientation when the cycle reset again—the nauseating pull of reality unraveling and reweaving itself around her. Her mind grasped desperately at the fleeting remnants of memory, trying to hold onto what little she could, but the moments slipped through her fingers like grains of sand. Her body knew what was happening—the subtle shifts in air pressure, the metallic tang of the lab, the hum of collapsing time—but her mind was a mess of fractured memories and ghostly afterimages.
Each loop felt like a sharp, unbearable repetition, the same scenes playing out over and over, their edges fraying with every iteration. The lab, the wolf king, the quantum field pulsing with lethal intent—all of it spiraling into a vortex of déjà vu that made her head pound.
The first cycle had been disorienting. She hadn't realized what was happening. The shock, the horror—she could still feel it, buried beneath layers of overlapping memories. But now, as she stood in the familiar lab, hands trembling, eyes fixed on the three-clawed insignia still glowing faintly on the control panel, she knew the rules.
She knew what was happening, and she knew what she needed to do.
L-13's memories from each cycle piled on top of one another, each time adding more clarity, more understanding. The pieces of the puzzle were there, scattered and worn, but with each loop, they fit together a little more seamlessly. She could feel her mind becoming stronger, the fractured layers of consciousness settling into something cohesive—but it wasn't enough.
Because the wolf king's memories were erased each time, wiped clean and replaced with blank confusion. Every time his eyes met hers, they were void of recognition. His voice, deep and unsteady, was always the same.
"Who are you?" His growl was low, raw, and it cut deeper than any blade. "What have you done?"
Her heart clenched. She had heard those words a thousand times before, had seen the hostility and confusion in his gaze, the primal instinct to protect and destroy warring in his eyes.
"I'm trying to save you," she breathed, her voice trembling. "Please. Just—trust me."
But he couldn't remember. He never did.
Every loop, she reached for him—again and again—her hands unsteady, eyes pleading. Until finally, her hand found his. His golden eyes flickered, confused, his gaze wild. He had no memory of the previous cycles, yet there was something deep inside him, his instincts pushing him toward her, like a compass drawn to true north.
"I know you," he rasped once, voice fractured with uncertainty, and for one devastating moment, her breath caught. But the recognition was fleeting, slipping away as quickly as it came.
With each passing loop, the markings on her skin deepened. His teeth—once just a faint memory of the past cycle—now left a more permanent scar, the mark of their bond becoming more real. Each time the cycle reset, the bite marks became more pronounced, deeper, as if the time loops were embedding them into her skin—until the bite was more than a mark. It was a claim, an indelible part of her.
When the cycle reset, her clothes disintegrated momentarily—the molecules separating, revealing her form as the energy flux rewrote the physical laws. For those brief moments, her body became almost transparent, her skin flickering in and out of existence, as if caught between time's folds. It lasted only 30 seconds—long enough for her to feel the exquisite discomfort of exposure, the chill of the air biting at her skin, but brief enough that it was gone before she could process the full impact.
"This can't be real," she whispered once, her voice cracking, fingers clutching at her arms, trying to hold herself together—both physically and mentally. But the walls only trembled in response, the hum of quantum energy droning endlessly, a reminder that reality itself was falling apart.
She turned to the wolf king, her eyes wide and pleading. "Why can't you remember?" The words escaped her lips before she even realized it. The question felt like it had been asked a thousand times before, each time unanswered.His gaze darkened, the confusion giving way to something more primal. His eyes narrowed, jaw tightening. The shadows cast by the flickering lights made him seem larger, more dangerous, a beast barely held back by the remnants of humanity.
"Remember what?" His voice was a growl, raw and strained. "Who are you?"
Her breath hitched,
eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Please," she choked out, voice small. "You have to—"
But the time loop reset again, the fabric of reality tearing and stitching itself back together with a cruel efficiency. The lab blurred, the lights flickered, and all at once, it was like waking from a nightmare only to find yourself in another.
And through it all, as the loop began anew, L-13's heart ached with a pain that felt older than time itself. It was a dull, ceaseless throb beneath her ribs, a reminder that this was not the first time—nor the last. Each reset was a knife twisting deeper, reopening wounds that had never healed. Despair weighed heavy on her chest, making every breath a struggle, every heartbeat a countdown to the next inevitable reset.
She could feel it—the inevitability of the next reset, the cruel hand of fate wrenching them apart over and over, an endless cycle of separation and loss. The very air around her seemed thick with the scent of iron and static, a constant reminder of the lab's impending collapse. Red emergency lights flashed in rhythmic pulses, casting everything in hues of blood and shadow.
And for just a moment, as the world shattered into fragments of light and dark, she thought she heard his voice—soft and broken, a whisper lost to the endless repetition.
"Find me," he breathed, eyes flashing gold, voice a ghost of a memory. The words were a plea, raw and fractured, as if they had been torn from him against his will. "Don't let go."
His voice sent a chill down her spine, so familiar and yet so agonizingly distant, as if he were speaking through layers of fog and shattered glass. It was a command and a confession all at once—a lifeline in the dark.
The words were swept away by the blinding flash of light, the reset pulling them apart again, her memories folding into each other, each layer overlapping until she could barely tell one from the next. The loop tightened, reality itself contorting and snapping back, leaving her breathless and disoriented, knees buckling under the weight of it.
But she held onto those words—clung to them with everything she had, even as the world collapsed around her. The desperation in his voice was a beacon, a single unbroken thread through the chaos. Find me. The words echoed in her mind, a mantra against the despair threatening to swallow her whole.
The wolf king turned toward her, his eyes wild but there was a familiar hunger in them—a primal, unspoken need that defied the reset. His golden eyes, bright and feral, locked onto her with a force that made her breath hitch. There was no recognition, but his instincts screamed to claim what was his.
He marked her again.
His teeth sank into her skin, sharp and unrelenting, and she gasped at the sudden heat that bloomed beneath the pain. The bite was deeper, more forceful—desperate, as if he could anchor himself to her, even as his memories slipped away with every reset. His claws dug into her waist, pulling her closer, the movement possessive and raw.
L-13's vision blurred, her fingers tangling into his cloak as she held on, the sting of the bite fading into something more dangerous—more addictive. A thread of energy snapped to life between them, hot and electric, racing along her spine and igniting every nerve. His breath was a growl against her skin, low and guttural, the sound of a beast fighting against its chains.
His memory was lost, but his bloodline knew. The resonance of their genes vibrated through her, amplified with each reset, a frequency that only they shared. Every time his teeth found her skin, the bond deepened, the bite marks darkening, becoming less a wound and more a brand. The pain was almost a comfort now—proof that he was still there, that something of him survived beneath the blankness of each reset.
The quantum resonance between them pulsed, a low hum that seemed to synchronize with her heartbeat. It wasn't just a bond—it was a pathway, a link through the layers of time and memory. And with it came the realization—she had to break the cycle.
The answer came to her in the form of a whisper—faint and fractured, as if it had bled through from another timeline. The quantum resonance had a flaw—a time anchor, an anomaly within the loops that could be severed. If she could focus her energy on that anchor point, using the resonance of the wolf king's genes to fracture the loop, they could break free.
She concentrated, the edges of her vision blurring with the effort, her mind linking to his through their shared genetic resonance. The memories of the previous loops flooded her consciousness—flashes of pain, eyes glowing gold, the scent of blood and jasmine, his voice a hoarse whisper in the dark. Each piece of the puzzle fell into place, a mosaic of violence and longing, until she could see the pattern beneath.
The time anchor was closer than she had realized.
As the energy of the quantum field reached its peak again, the walls trembled with the force of it, the lights flickering wildly. L-13 pressed forward, fingers brushing the air where the anchor point pulsed, invisible but tangible, a distortion in the fabric of time itself. She focused all her energy, every fragment of memory, every heartbeat, on that crucial point—on him.
The space around her began to collapse again, metal twisting with a sound like tortured screams, the temperature plummeting. But this time, she was in control.
With a final, defiant burst of energy, the anchor point cracked. The loop shattered with a sound like glass breaking, fragments of light and shadow exploding outward. The air surged, electrified, as the space began to collapse into a singularity—a moment frozen in time, an event that had now been broken free.
The lab began to stabilize as the quantum field disintegrated, the hum fading to a dull ache in her skull. L-13 gasped, her limbs heavy and trembling, the adrenaline crashing down in waves. Her vision swam, the edges darkening, but for the first time in what felt like centuries, she could breathe.
But just as she felt the weight of her success, her gaze was drawn to the emergency log on the main console, flickering with the soft green glow of corrupted data. The last entry blinked on the screen, a warning in harsh digital letters:
"Time Anchor Error — Cycle 13 data encrypted."
Her heart stuttered, the blood draining from her face. Cycle 13.
And then, a voice—low and rough, fractured at the edges—filled the silence, a shadow of the man he had been before the resets. The wolf king's voice, his memory a splintered fragment, spoke one final time, his eyes dark with something that could have been fear.
"Don't trust me in the thirteenth cycle."
His words lingered, heavy and cold, sinking into her bones.
And in the flickering light of the failing lab, L-13 felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold.