Chapter 8: The Timelord’s Grasp

"Kai, don't—wait!" Lena's voice cracked, sharp and desperate, cutting through the vault's low hum like a jagged edge.

I froze mid-step, boots grinding against dusty stone, my paradox mark throbbing under my sleeve—a slow, searing pulse. The air felt heavy, choked with the scent of old metal and something sour, and Mara's whisper—"You can't pay it back"—slid into my head, her shadowed face flickering in the corner of my eye. Ahead, three Lost Timelords stood, cloaks rippling like liquid shadow, their gold eyes piercing the gloom. Time warped around them—my breath dragged, the Fades' movements stuttered, and my heartbeat pounded unevenly in my chest.

Lena's hand clamped onto my arm, trembling, her fingers slick with blood from a Reaper gash that wouldn't clot. "You rush in, we're dust—think for once," she hissed. Markus leaned on his cane beside her, wheezing, his sharp eyes cutting through the exhaustion etched into his face. Tali and the three remaining Fades—scar-nose was gone, leaving wiry guy, quiet woman, and a jittery kid—huddled close, knives raised, faces ghost-pale.

I swallowed hard, throat dry as ash. "They're not Reapers—how do we fight 'em?" My voice came out rough, barely above a whisper.

Markus coughed, a wet, rattling sound. "Timelords twist time, not just trade it. They're older than the Syndicate, maybe older than the city. Hit 'em hard, fast—don't let 'em grab you."

"Great," I muttered, clenching my fist, the mark pulsing hotter. "No pressure."

The first Timelord moved, its hand snapping out like a whip, and time folded in on itself. Wiry guy lunged, blade halfway to its chest when it froze—his arm wrinkled, skin peeling back, then crumbled to dust mid-swing. He hit the ground silent, a pile of ash where his upper half used to be, legs twitching once before stilling. My stomach lurched, bile rising sharp in my throat.

"Shit," Lena breathed, her grip tightening on my arm. "We can't just stand here."

I nodded, heart hammering. "Flank 'em—hit and run, like the tunnels." I jerked my head left. "You take that side, I'll go right."

She shot me a look—half doubt, half steel—then darted left, dagger flashing in the dim light. I bolted right, ducking behind a crumbling pillar as the second Timelord twisted, its gold eyes locking on Lena. Time slowed around her, her lunge stretching into a crawl, but she rolled at the last second, slashing its cloak with a spark of steel.

I charged the first, mark blazing hot, and swung with everything I had. Time snapped—my fist accelerated, smashing into its chest with a crack. The Timelord stumbled back, eyes dimming, and I hit it again, dust erupting in a cloud as it collapsed, robes falling empty to the floor. The ticking in my head eased, just a fraction.

Tali screamed, a high, desperate sound. The third Timelord had her, bony fingers digging into her shoulder. Her relic shattered in her hand, and she aged—hair graying, skin sinking around her eyes—in seconds. She crumpled to her knees, gasping, still alive but frail, her knife slipping from trembling fingers.

I tackled the Timelord off her, mark wild, and time fractured—the vault shook, stone walls decaying to ruin, then snapping back in a blink. The Timelord staggered, cloak fraying at the edges, and I slammed my glowing fist into its core. Dust exploded, choking the air, and it was gone, leaving only echoes.

Lena and the quiet woman pinned the last one, time twisting around them—the woman's hair grayed at the temples, but she drove her knife deep into its side. I lunged, mark flaring, and finished it with a punch that sent dust scattering across the chamber. The vault quaked, a deep groan echoing from the walls, and a gate creaked open ahead, shadows swirling beyond.

I dropped to my knees, nose bleeding, vision swimming. Lena hauled me up, her face pale, voice hoarse. "You're gonna kill yourself, Voss, if you keep pushing like that."

"Better than them killing us," I panted, wiping blood from my face. Markus limped forward, grimmer than ever, his cane tapping a shaky rhythm. "Timelords were just the guards—whatever's deeper, it's worse. Pure time don't sit quiet."

I forced myself to stand, legs like jelly, the mark dimming but still alive. "Then we go," I said, voice steady despite the shake in my hands. "No turning back now." The three Fades—quiet woman, jittery kid, and frail Tali—nodded, battered but hard-eyed. We stepped through the gate, into the vault's gut, into a dark that hummed like it was waiting—hungry, ready to swallow us whole.

The passage beyond the gate was tight, walls slick with damp rot, the hum growing louder with every step. My boots splashed in shallow puddles, the sound echoing too sharp in the confined space. The air turned colder, biting through my jacket, and the mark pulsed again—not searing now, but steady, like it was waking up to something ahead.

"Keep your eyes open," Lena muttered, her dagger scraping the stone as she moved, her limp more pronounced. "This place feels wrong—worse than the tunnels."

"Everything feels wrong since the checkpoint," I shot back, voice low. "Doesn't mean we stop."

She snorted, a dry, bitter sound. "You're a stubborn bastard, Voss. Hope it doesn't get us all dusted."

Markus grunted behind us, his cane slipping once on the wet floor before he caught himself. "She's right, kid. Timelords were a warning—this vault's built to keep people out, not let 'em in."

"Then why's it letting us?" Tali's voice was small, cracked, her frail frame trembling as she clutched her broken relic like a lifeline.

"Cause of me," I said, flexing my hand, the mark's glow faint but steady. "It's tied to this—whatever Mara traded, it's pulling us in."

The jittery kid piped up, his voice shaking. "Or it's a trap. Syndicate don't give shit away—they take."

"Trap or not, we're here," quiet woman cut in, her tone flat but firm, her knife still dripping Timelord dust. "No point whining now."

The passage widened, opening into a chamber—smaller than the last, but heavier, the hum a physical weight pressing down. Relic-light flickered from rusted sconces, casting jagged shadows across the floor, where cracks spidered out like veins. In the center, a pedestal stood, holding a sphere—not the pure time stash yet, but something else, a relic pulsing with a dull, sickly green glow.

"That's not right," Markus said, stepping closer, his cane tapping slower now. "That's a lock—Syndicate tech, old as hell. Keeps the stash sealed."

"Then we break it," I said, moving toward it, the mark flaring brighter as I got close. The air thickened, time stuttering—my steps slowed, then snapped back, a jolt running up my spine.

"Kai, careful—" Lena started, but the sphere pulsed, and the chamber shifted. Shadows peeled off the walls, not Timelords this time—smaller, faster, like shards of time given form. They darted forward, edges glinting, and the jittery kid screamed as one sliced past, his arm aging a decade in a flash—skin sagging, veins bulging—before he yanked it back, cursing.

"Move!" I shouted, ducking as another shard whipped by, grazing my shoulder. Time twisted there, the fabric fraying, then snapping back, but the sting lingered. Lena slashed at one, her dagger sparking, and it shattered into dust, but more came—five, six, swarming us.

Quiet woman swung her knife, catching one mid-flight, dust bursting as it fell. Tali huddled behind Markus, her frail hands shaking too hard to fight. I clenched my fist, mark glowing, and swung at the nearest shard—time snapped, my punch speeding up, smashing it apart. The hum spiked, the sphere trembling on its pedestal.

"They're tied to that thing," Markus yelled, swinging his cane at a shard, missing as it darted past. "Break it, or we're done!"

I lunged for the pedestal, dodging shards, the mark burning hotter. Lena covered me, slashing two more down, her breath ragged. "Hurry, Voss!" she snapped, a shard grazing her leg—her knee buckled, aging a flicker, then steadying as she cursed.

I reached the sphere, mark blazing, and slammed my fist into it. Time fractured—the chamber shook, cracks blasting out, then sealing fast. The shards froze mid-air, then crumbled, dust raining down. The sphere cracked, green light fading, and a low groan echoed as a hidden door slid open on the far wall, revealing a deeper dark.

I staggered back, nose bleeding again, head pounding. Lena grabbed my arm, steadying me. "You're a damn wreck," she muttered, her own face pale, leg trembling.

"Still here," I rasped, wiping blood on my sleeve. Markus limped to the door, peering in. "That's the antechamber—core's close now. Whatever's guarding it, it knows we're coming."

The Fades gathered—quiet woman grim, jittery kid clutching his aged arm, Tali barely standing. "We've made it this far," I said, voice steady despite the ache—Mara's ache—driving me on. "Let's finish it."

We stepped through, the hum swelling into a scream, the mark pulsing in time. The vault wasn't just a place—it was alive, and it didn't want us here.