The City Of Shattered Time
The City of Shattered Time was a parade where the past, present, and future collided in a chaotic dance. Elara stood at its edge, her breath catching as she took in the impossible skyline.
A medieval castle loomed beside a sleek, glass skyscraper, while cobblestone streets bled into neon-lit highways. The air hummed with dissonance, as though the city was alive, its heartbeat a cacophony of eras.
Kael stood beside her, his brow furrowed as he scanned the chaos. His once-glow was gone, but his silver eyes—now a warm, mortal brown—still carried the weight of centuries. "Stay close," he said, his voice low and edged with tension.
"Time here isn't just broken—it's alive. One wrong step, and we could lose years… or worse."
Elara nodded, her grip tightening on the second shard. Its pulse synced with her racing heart, a constant reminder of the stakes. "Where do we start?"
Kael's gaze flickered to the heart of the city, where a clocktower stood frozen in mid-collapse, its gears hanging in the air like shattered constellations. "There," he said. "The third shard is in the clocktower. But it won't be unguarded."
As they ventured deeper into the city, the ground beneath their feet shifted unpredictably. One moment, they were walking on cobblestones slick with rain; the next, the stones dissolved into a futuristic metal grid that hummed with energy.
A Victorian carriage rattled past, only to disintegrate into pixelated static as a hoverbike from a future century tore through its ghost.
A child laughed, chasing a hoop with a stick—then screamed as her form melted into a soldier from a forgotten war, rifle raised.
"This place is a nightmare," Elara whispered, ducking as a medieval catapult's boulder materialized overhead and vanished.
Kael's hand brushed hers, a silent reassurance. "The shard's here. I can feel it." His fingers twitched, and for a heartbeat, silver light sparked at his fingertips—a flicker of his old power.
Elara glanced at him, her curiosity piqued. "Since when can you do that?"
"Since the second shard," he said, his voice tinged with wonder. "It's… waking up parts of me. But it's not enough. Not yet."
The clock tower loomed ahead, its fractured face frozen at the moment of its collapse. The third shard pulsed faintly within its gears, its dark energy humming like a trapped storm. But as Kael reached for it, the shadows at the tower's base moved.
The Watcher's army emerged—faceless soldiers woven from smoke and static, their weapons glitching between swords, guns, and plasma blades. Kael shoved Elara behind him, his voice a growl. "Now you show yourselves."
The first soldier lunged. Kael sidestepped, his movements fluid, and predatory. A dagger of silver light materialized in his hand—a wisp of his guardian power—and he drove it into the soldier's core. The creature dissolved, but three more took its place.
Elara pressed her back to his, her dagger drawn. "Since when can you do that?"
"Since the second shard," he said, breathless. The silver in his eyes flickered like a storm. "It's… waking up parts of me."
The battle erupted. Kael fought like a man possessed, his strikes precise, his borrowed power flaring brighter with each fallen shadow. Elara watched, awed, as he tore through a dozen soldiers, his laughter sharp and wild. "Feeling nostalgic?" he taunted the Watcher's horde.
In the chaos, a glitch in time caught Elara's eye: a mural on a crumbling wall depicting a woman in armor, her sword raised alongside a guardian with silver eyes—Kael's eyes. The inscription beneath was fragmented, but one word blazed clear: "Lyra."
"Kael—look!" Elara called, but a shadow soldier's blade grazed her arm.
Kael's roar shook the air. Silver light erupted from him, obliterating the attackers in a shockwave. He stumbled, breathing hard, his eyes wide. "Did you… see her?"
"Lyra?" Elara asked, bandaging her wound.
He nodded, voice raw. "She was… before."
They claimed the third shard, its energy surging into Kael. His veins glowed silver, and for a moment, he was the guardian again—radiant, untouchable.