Chapter 3: The Price of Change

Chapter 3: The Price of Change

The air around them seemed to chill with the presence of the figure. It was not just what they were saying but the way they seemed to blur and ripple, as if flickering between moments. 

Eli instinctively stepped forward, placing himself between Samara and the figure, his voice steady and firm, though he was shaking. "Who are you? What do you mean, it is higher than we think?"

The figure tilted its head-an almost amused gesture. "You've stepped into something you don't understand, Dr. Renner. Time doesn't forgive. It doesn't forget. It only takes." 

Samara snorted, but the bite in her tone betrayed her. "Spare us the cryptic warnings. If you know something, just say it.

The figure's gaze shifted to her. Though their face remained obscured, Samara felt the weight of their scrutiny, as if they were peeling back layers of her thoughts. 

"You're bold," the figure said. "But boldness doesn't protect you. It binds you."

Eli stepped forward then, irritation rising. "Enough riddles. We built the machine to fix the past. If there's something wrong, just tell us what that is so we can fix that too.".

The flickering presence in front of him steadied for a moment, and a hollow laugh echoed through the void. "You think the past is something to be *fixed*? The past is a wound, Doctor. Poke it too much, and it will bleed."

Before either one of them could respond, the figure lifted its hand. The void around them violently shifted; the air rippled like water disturbed by a stone.

An instant, and Eli and Samara were no longer standing in the void. Suddenly they were tumbling through fragments of time, each passing moment a disorienting blur: a child wailing, the sound of shattering metal, a man yelling into a storm. Faces unknown. Places unseen.

And then it stopped.

They stood in the middle of a street; the faint scent of rain still clung to the air. Nighttime had fallen, and the flickering signs from a diner across the way cast a sickly yellow glow on the wet pavement. 

"This is wrong," Samara said, looking around. "This isn't our target. Where are we?"

Eli said nothing. His attention had been drawn to the diner window. Inside, through the plate glass, in a corner booth, a man and a woman sat across from one another. The man's features were partially hidden by the brim of a hat. There was no mistaking the woman.

"It's Anna," Eli breathed, his chest tightening.

Samara followed his gaze, her eyes narrowing. "This can't be right. Anna's not supposed to be here. She." Her voice trailed off, but Eli didn't need her to finish. He knew what she was thinking. Anna was supposed to be dead. 

Eli took a step toward the diner, but the figure's voice rang out behind him.

Touch nothing," they warned. "Your presence here is already too much." 

Eli spun to face them, frustration now boiling over. "You're the one who brought us here! Why? What's the point of showing me this if I can't do anything?

The figure didn't move. "You need to understand what you're asking for. Every action has consequences. Every change creates ripples. Some are small." They gestured toward the diner. "And some destroy everything." 

Samara crossed her arms, her eyes cold. "If you're trying to scare us, it's not going to work. We've already accepted the risks."

The figure seemed to regard her for a long moment. "Have you? Then tell me this-what happens when the person you save isn't the same as the one you lost? What happens when your 'fix' unravels everything else you care about?" 

Eli shook his head, his hands clenching into fists. "We're not here to rewrite the entire world. We're here to fix one moment. One mistake.

And yet," the figure said, his voice softer now, almost pitying, "one moment is all it takes to unravel an entire lifetime." 

Scenes shifted again; the street and diner dissolved into shadow. This time, they were standing in the middle of a battlefield: smoke choked the air, the ground littered with debris-shattered buildings, burnt-out vehicles, and bodies.

Samara's breath caught. "What is this?"

"A possibility," the figure said simply.

Eli stared at the devastation, his mind racing. "We didn't cause this. We haven't even changed anything yet."

"You haven't," the figure agreed. "But someone else has. Someone who thought they could play god with time. Do you see now? You aren't the first to try. You won't be the last."

The implications struck Eli like a blow. "You're saying. this is what happens if we fail?" 

The figure did not directly answer. Instead, he reached out a hand and a flickering image sprang up in the air between them: an older Eli, haggard, and alone, his face gaunt with regret, his eyes sunken to dark wells.

This is your future," the figure said, "the cost of your obsession." 

Eli swallowed hard. His resolve was deserting him. "And if we stop now? What then?" 

The figure's voice never changed. "You'll live with the weight of what you've lost. But the world will remain intact." 

A hush fell between them, thick and turgid.

Samara stepped forward, her jaw set. "You're wasting your time. We're not giving up." She glanced at Eli, her voice softening. "Are we?" 

Eli looked at her, then back at the figure. The void around them pulsed, as if waiting for his decision. 

"No," he said finally, his voice steady. "We've come too far to stop now."

The figure sighed, its form beginning to fade. "Then I hope you're ready to face what's coming. Time doesn't forgive. And it never forgets." 

With that, they disappeared, leaving Eli and Samara alone in the void once more.