The Forgotten Keepers

The whisper echoed in Idris' head.

Idris Vale…

The voice—his own—felt distant, fractured, as if it was coming from another version of himself. He gritted his teeth, scanning the ship's dimly lit cabin. The others had heard it too—Elise's face was pale, Nyla's fingers hovered over her holster, and even Rook looked uneasy.

"This isn't possible," Idris muttered. "How is it speaking to me?"

Rook adjusted the controls. "The Echo doesn't think. It remembers. If it knows your name, it means you were part of its hunt before."

"Or will be," Nyla added grimly.

Elise shook her head. "No. If it's after Idris, it's because of something in his bloodline. That thing—it doesn't just go after anomalies. It hunts a specific kind of anomaly."

Rook's expression darkened. "Descendants of the Sa'Khel."

The name sent an unnatural chill through the air.

Idris frowned. "The what?"

Rook tapped a few commands into the ship's console, and a holographic archive appeared. Symbols flickered across the screen—ancient glyphs, spiraling runes, and fractured pages of a lost language.

"The Sa'Khel," Rook explained, "were the first wielders of Timeweaving. Not just time travelers, but those who could manipulate time's essence itself."

Idris narrowed his eyes. "That sounds like magic."

Rook met his gaze. "Because it was."

A heavy silence followed.

Nyla leaned forward, intrigued. "You're telling me there were actual mages who could control time?"

"Not just control it," Rook said. "They wove it—reshaped events, rewrote moments, built paradoxes into reality itself. And the Echo sees them as the ultimate threat."

Elise crossed her arms. "So what happened to them?"

Rook sighed. "They were erased. Hunted down by the Echo. It didn't stop at them—it targeted their bloodlines, their descendants, anyone who carried even a trace of their power."

Idris felt something coil in his chest. "And you think I'm one of them?"

"You have to be," Rook said. "The Echo doesn't hunt people without cause."

Idris shook his head. This was insane. He wasn't some mythical time mage. He was a detective, a man who spent his life solving mysteries—not being one.

But the more he thought about it, the more the gaps in his memory gnawed at him. The missing records, the way people sometimes forgot him, the fact that his very existence had begun to glitch.

Had time itself been trying to erase him?

Before he could dwell on it further, a new warning blared across the ship's dashboard.

ALERT: TEMPORAL DISTORTION DETECTED

The air in the cabin turned electric. A deep vibration pulsed through the floor.

Then—

A rift tore open outside the ship.

It wasn't like a normal portal. It didn't shimmer or ripple. It fractured—like time itself had been cracked. Through it, Idris saw glimpses of another world. Ruins of towering structures, glowing symbols floating in the air, a shattered sky of swirling colors.

And then—

Figures.

Hooded shapes standing at the edge of the rift, their eyes glowing with a faint golden light.

Elise stepped back. "Who the hell are they?"

Rook's grip tightened on the controls. "Survivors."

The figures raised their hands, and in an instant—

The ship was no longer in the city.

The moment Idris blinked, they were somewhere else.

A vast chamber stretched around them, lined with walls of shifting symbols. The air smelled of burning ozone and something older—something almost alive.

The hooded figures stepped forward, their robes flowing as if caught in a non-existent wind. One of them lowered their hood, revealing a woman with glowing blue veins running along her temples, her irises shifting like galaxies.

She studied Idris carefully.

Then she spoke.

"You carry the blood of the Sa'Khel."

Idris clenched his fists. "I don't even know what that means."

She smiled faintly. "You will."

A pulse of energy crackled through the air.

And suddenly—

Idris saw.

Memories not his own flashed through his mind—ancient cities thriving under golden skies, towers inscribed with runes humming with power, people weaving time itself with their hands.

Then, destruction.

The Echo tearing through the world, consuming everything, unraveling centuries of history in mere moments. The Sa'Khel running, hiding, dying.

The last of them vanishing into the void.

And now—

He was the last remnant.

The vision ended, and Idris staggered back. His breathing was heavy, his hands shaking.

The woman placed a hand on his shoulder. "You are the key, Idris Vale. The Echo will not stop until you are gone. But you also hold the only power strong enough to stand against it."

Idris exhaled.

Everything he knew about his life had just shattered.

But one thing was clear—

The hunt had only just begun.