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The Psychology Of Time Travel A

The Time a Historian Traveled Through All Ancient Eras

In a person's world, everything is composed of their time on earth, where the past, present, and future intertwine in a universal order... However, due to an event we still don't know, history takes a 180-degree turn in a sudden change. A young adult historian, 26 years old and obsessed with the great figures of history, is dragged into a reality that defies everything he knows. Since childhood, his fascination with ancient figures for their importance in history and their unyielding bravery in every era has led him to dream of past eras and crucial moments in history. But he never imagined that his destiny would be linked to those legends and mythical stories he so admires. The end of the world arrives in the most unexpected way: the sky tears apart, time fractures, and eras collide. Medieval, futuristic, and Roman soldiers mix in a visual chaos that defies logic. Amid this temporal collapse, the protagonist is thrown into a war-torn France in the year 1430. His knowledge of history and his command of the language make him a privileged witness, but also a suspect. Captured by French soldiers, he must fight for his life while trying to understand the role assigned to him in this new and dangerous world. It is then that he comes face to face with Joan of Arc, a figure as charismatic as she is enigmatic. She distrusts him, but his knowledge of the future and his ability to foresee key events make him a potential ally. Will he be able to alter the course of history without destroying it? Or is his presence in the past part of a much larger plan, a plot woven by forces even he cannot comprehend? In a journey where time is an unpredictable enemy and every decision has unimaginable consequences, the protagonist must choose between being a mere spectator or becoming the hero history never knew it needed. But in a world where the past, present, and future intertwine, who decides what is written in the pages of time? ---
Kitsunekirito · 94 Views

Splinters of Time

In the coastal town of **Sarween**, where the waves of the sea collide with the curse of suspended time, a legend unfolds about a man imprisoned in an endless loop of guilt and oblivion. Adham, the writer who turned his heart into a ledger of lies and ghosts, battles the demons of his memory through **stone towers** that rise from the belly of the sea like divine punishment. Here, where events are born from the womb of pain, **Yara** transforms from a lost daughter into a cosmic enigma: a child who vanishes on a crimson night, only to return as mathematical ciphers that pierce the fabric of reality. Her letters are not cries for help, but calls from parallel worlds mocking humanity’s attempts to grasp time. The **twenty towers**, numbered with the blood of victims, are not mere stone—they are open books bleeding with the wounds of a past rewriting itself. Each tower is a mirror reflecting Adham’s fractured selves: a terrified child, a guilty youth, a weary old man. The **scar above the heart** is but a fiery seal reminding him that the truth is a beast fiercer than any fiction. In this world, time is a poisoned loop: the sea spits out corpses bearing identical DNA, the **white shark** devours the dreams of the past, and shattered mirrors forge parallel universes where Yara does not die… but morphs into an idea haunting her creator. This tale is not a narrative, but a morbid dance between creator and creation. Adham, who believed writing would redeem him, discovers he authored his own prison with his hands: every sentence carved a scar, every chapter lit a candle in the darkness of his conscience. This novel is not about lost time, but about a being who builds his cage from falsified memories and battles mirrors reflecting his image as a crownless executioner. Here, in Sarween, the truth is not a victim… but a killer cloaked in martyrdom. Thus unfolds the legend of **Shards of Time**: like Narcissus gazing at his reflection in the river of memory, drinking from it until death. But here, the river is a sea that regurgitates the names of victims every night, and the mirrors do not reflect faces… they devour them.
Muntadher_Khudhur · 381 Views
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