The Threshold of Truth

The moment Idris stepped through the gateway, a rush of energy surged through his body. It wasn't like the chaotic disorientation of their previous jumps—this was controlled, deliberate, like being carefully threaded through the fabric of reality itself.

When the light faded, he found himself standing on solid ground.

The others landed beside him in quick succession, their reactions a mix of relief and wariness.

Elise was the first to take in their surroundings. "Okay… where are we?"

They stood at the edge of a massive expanse—a sprawling landscape of metallic pathways and floating monoliths, suspended in a twilight void. Above them, constellations burned like ancient fire, their light casting shifting patterns across the ground.

It wasn't just a place.

It was a construct of time itself.

Nyla's voice was barely a whisper. "This place… it feels different."

Idris felt it too. The weight of it. As if every second they stood here, history itself was pressing down on them.

A voice broke the silence.

"You have arrived."

They turned sharply.

A figure stood at the center of the vast expanse, its form wrapped in flowing silver robes, adorned with intricate glowing patterns that pulsed in rhythm with the stars above. Their face was concealed beneath a hood, yet there was something unmistakably ancient about them.

Rook tightened his grip on his weapon. "And you are…?"

The figure lifted a hand, and instantly, the air shifted. Images flickered to life around them—snapshots of the past, woven together in a seamless stream.

"Once, we were known as the Vael'Zir."

Idris's breath caught. The name Timekeepers echoed in his mind.

"We were the architects of balance," the figure continued. "Not as rulers, but as guardians of the threads that wove existence together."

The images changed. They saw towering cities of impossible design, knowledge etched into crystalline structures, time itself bending to the will of those who had mastered it.

"But we were betrayed."

The vision fractured. Cities crumbling, time spiraling into disorder. Figures cloaked in shadow wielding artifacts of unimaginable power, tearing through the delicate balance the Vael'Zir had upheld.

"The Sa'Khel sought dominion over time. They believed it could be controlled, shaped to serve their will."

Elise inhaled sharply. "They… weren't the Timekeepers?"

The figure shook their head. "No. They were our greatest mistake."

Idris stepped forward. "Then why did the world forget you?"

The hooded figure lowered their hand, and the visions faded. "Because the Echo was born."

The air around them dimmed.

"When time fractured, it sought to correct itself. It created the Echo as a force of erasure—to undo the damage, to erase those responsible."

Idris felt his pulse quicken. "But it didn't stop with them."

The figure nodded. "It could not. Time does not distinguish between guilt and innocence. It only seeks balance."

A deep silence settled over the group.

Rook exhaled. "So, let me get this straight. The Sa'Khel played with forces they didn't understand, created a paradox, and the Echo wiped everything—including the ones who could've fixed it?"

The figure's head inclined slightly. "Yes."

Elise ran a hand through her hair. "That's… a lot."

Idris looked up at the stars above them, feeling the weight of generations pressing against him. The Vael'Zir had existed, and the world had forgotten.

Until now.

He met the figure's unseen gaze. "Why did you bring us here?"

A pause. Then—

"Because you are the last."

Idris's blood ran cold. "What?"

The figure extended a hand, and suddenly, Idris felt a pull—memories surfacing that were not his own.

He saw glimpses of a life he had never lived.

Standing among the Vael'Zir, studying the flow of time. Watching as the Sa'Khel rose to power. Witnessing the moment the Echo was born—feeling the shock, the horror, as time itself collapsed.

A war that had no victors.

A history erased.

And then—

Himself.

Not just as Idris.

But as something more.

The moment shattered, and he staggered back, gasping.

The figure's voice was quiet. "The blood of the Vael'Zir runs through you. You are not merely a bystander in this conflict, Idris. You are the last of the Timekeepers."

His mind reeled. It couldn't be true.

Could it?

Elise reached for him, her voice concerned. "Idris?"

He swallowed, trying to steady his breathing. "I…" He looked at the figure. "What does that mean?"

The hooded being stepped closer. "It means you hold the last hope for balance. The Echo has been rewritten, but it is not enough. The damage time has suffered must be repaired."

Nyla's brow furrowed. "And how do we do that?"

The figure gestured behind them.

A new structure materialized—a towering archway of glowing inscriptions, pulsing with the energy of a thousand timelines. At its center, a doorway of swirling light shimmered, leading somewhere unknown.

"Beyond this gate lies the heart of time itself. The Cradle of Eternity."

The air felt charged with something more than just energy—it was expectation.

Destiny.

Idris clenched his fists. His entire life, he had felt like he was walking in the shadow of something greater than himself. Every choice, every moment, had led him here.

To this decision.

He turned to the others.

Elise met his gaze with unwavering determination. "If you're in, I'm in."

Rook sighed but smirked. "Not like we've ever backed out before."

Nyla nodded. "This is bigger than us. We finish this."

Idris turned back to the figure. "And if we succeed?"

The hooded being's voice was quiet, but firm.

"Then time will finally heal."

Idris took a breath, steadied himself—

And stepped forward.