Chapter 10: Echoes of the Past  

Eryndor stood before the first pedestal, his hand hovering inches above the glowing fragment. The shard in his grasp pulsed faintly, its energy resonating with the smaller crystal like a tuning fork struck against its counterpart. He could feel it calling to him—not audibly, but through sensations that rippled across his skin and tugged at the edges of his consciousness. Each fragment was a piece of his fractured history, waiting to be examined, judged, and ultimately decided upon.

"Be careful," Liora warned again, her voice low but insistent. "These aren't just memories—they're anchors. Destroying one could unravel more than you realize."

Eryndor nodded absently, his focus entirely on the fragment. With a deep breath, he touched it.

---

The world dissolved into light once more, pulling him into another vision. This time, he found himself standing in a bustling marketplace, surrounded by vibrant colors and lively chatter. People moved about their business, oblivious to his presence. It took him a moment to recognize the scene—it was a memory from his childhood, though the details had long since faded.

He spotted a younger version of himself sitting cross-legged on the ground, sketching crude drawings in the dirt with a stick. Beside him sat a girl roughly his age, her hair tied back in messy braids and her face smudged with soot. She laughed as she leaned over his shoulder, pointing out flaws in his drawing.

"That's Lyra," Liora's voice whispered beside him, startling him. He turned to see her standing there, translucent and ghostly, yet somehow solid enough to interact with him. "She was your best friend growing up."

"I… don't remember her," Eryndor admitted, his voice tinged with guilt. The sight of the two children laughing together stirred something deep within him—a longing for a connection he couldn't fully recall.

"You forgot her when you ran," Liora replied softly, her gaze fixed on the pair. "After the fire, after everything fell apart, you buried those memories along with the pain."

Eryndor clenched his fists, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "Why does everyone keep saying I ran? What happened to me?"

Before Liora could answer, the scene shifted abruptly. The cheerful marketplace dissolved into chaos—screams filled the air as flames engulfed the stalls and buildings. Smoke choked the sky, turning day into night. Young Eryndor grabbed Lyra's hand, pulling her toward safety, but she stumbled and fell. When he turned back to help her, a figure emerged from the smoke—the boy with the broken sword.

"Leave her!" the boy shouted, his voice desperate. "If we stay, we'll both die!"

"But she's my friend!" young Eryndor protested, tears streaming down his face.

"And I'm your brother!" the boy countered sharply. "Trust me—we have to go *now*!"

Eryndor hesitated, torn between loyalty to his friend and survival. Finally, he released Lyra's hand and followed the boy, leaving her behind as the flames consumed everything.

The vision shattered, returning Eryndor to the chamber with Liora. His chest heaved as if he'd been running, and his hands trembled uncontrollably. 

"She didn't make it out," Liora said quietly, her expression grim. "You survived because you chose to run. That decision shaped everything that came after."

Eryndor staggered back, sinking to his knees. "I didn't know… I didn't mean to…"

"No one ever means to," Liora replied, kneeling beside him. "But intentions don't change outcomes. What matters now is what you do next."

Eryndor stared at the fragment on the pedestal, its glow dimmer now, as if drained of vitality. "If I destroy this… will it undo what happened?"

"It won't rewrite the past," Liora explained. "But it might weaken the hold it has on you. Letting go isn't easy, but sometimes it's necessary."

Taking a shaky breath, Eryndor raised the shard and brought it down on the fragment. The crystal shattered with a deafening crack, releasing a wave of energy that sent him stumbling backward. For a brief moment, he saw Lyra's face smiling at him—one last fleeting glimpse of the life he'd lost.

When the echoes faded, Eryndor turned his attention to the next pedestal. Its fragment glowed brighter than the first, pulsing with an intensity that made his skin prickle. As he approached, he felt a strange pull—an almost magnetic attraction drawing him closer.

"This one feels different," he murmured, reaching out cautiously.

The moment his fingers brushed the fragment, the vision hit him like a tidal wave.

---

This time, he found himself in a grand hall adorned with banners and tapestries depicting celestial bodies orbiting a central figure—the Chronos Shard itself. At the far end of the room stood a council of robed figures, their faces obscured by hoods. Before them knelt a young man clad in armor, his head bowed in reverence.

"Is that… me?" Eryndor asked, staring at the armored figure. His voice sounded distant, detached, as if he were observing someone else's life unfold.

"Yes," Liora confirmed, appearing beside him once more. "This is the day you swore allegiance to the Order of Eternity—the group tasked with protecting the Veil and maintaining balance between worlds."

Young Eryndor rose to his feet, accepting a ceremonial dagger from one of the council members. His expression was resolute, unwavering, as he pledged his loyalty to their cause. But as the ceremony concluded, the boy with the broken sword appeared at the edge of the room, his face twisted with anger.

"You betrayed us," the boy accused, stepping forward. "You abandoned our mission for power."

"I did what I had to do," young Eryndor replied coldly, gripping the dagger tightly. "The Veil cannot be controlled by fear or desperation. We need order."

"And sacrifice?" the boy shot back, his voice rising. "What about the lives we left behind? The promises we broke?"

"They were necessary losses," young Eryndor snapped, his tone hardening. "If you can't accept that, then you're no longer part of this."

The boy clenched his fists, trembling with barely contained rage. "Then consider this goodbye."

With that, he turned and stormed out of the hall, leaving young Eryndor alone among the council members. Their approving nods and murmurs of praise echoed hollowly in the vast space.

The vision dissolved, returning Eryndor to the present. His jaw tightened as the weight of the memory settled over him. "So that's why he hates me," he muttered bitterly. "Because I chose duty over family."

"Not just duty," Liora corrected him. "Power. Control. You thought you could fix everything by becoming part of the system—but all you did was perpetuate it."

Eryndor clenched his fists, guilt and anger warring within him. "Doesn't matter now. None of it changes what I have to do."

He stepped toward the pedestal, raising the shard high above his head. Before he could strike, however, the fragment flared brightly, forcing him to shield his eyes. When the light subsided, the boy's voice echoed through the chamber.

**"Destroying this won't erase your mistakes,"** he intoned, his layered whispers reverberating like thunder. **"But maybe it'll teach you to live with them."**

The fragment shattered under the force of the shard, sending another wave of energy coursing through the room. Eryndor staggered back, clutching his chest as fragments of the memory lingered in his mind—reminders of choices he could never take back.

"There's still more," Liora said, gesturing toward the remaining pedestals. "Each one represents a turning point in your life. Choose wisely."

Eryndor nodded, steeling himself for what lay ahead. One by one, he approached the pedestals, confronting the echoes of his past—the victories, the failures, the sacrifices he'd tried so hard to forget. Some fragments he destroyed, severing ties with painful memories. Others he left intact, clinging to moments of hope and redemption.

By the time he reached the final pedestal, exhaustion weighed heavily on him. His body ached, his mind buzzed with conflicting emotions, and the shard in his hand felt heavier than ever. Yet, despite the toll it had taken, he knew he couldn't stop—not until every thread had been addressed.

The last fragment pulsed faintly, its glow weaker than the others. As Eryndor touched it, the vision that unfolded was unlike any he'd experienced before.

---

He found himself standing in an empty void, surrounded by shifting images of alternate realities. In some, he stood triumphant atop a battlefield; in others, he knelt in despair, surrounded by ruins. Among the flickering scenes, he spotted the boy once more, holding the broken sword and smiling faintly.

"This is where it ends," the boy said, his voice calm and steady. "Your journey through the loop has brought you here—to the crossroads of fate. Whatever you choose, remember this: freedom comes at a price. Are you willing to pay it?"

Eryndor hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. The shard in his hand pulsed insistently, urging him to act. Taking a deep breath, he raised it high above his head and brought it down on the final fragment.

The resulting explosion of light blinded him momentarily, and when his vision cleared, he found himself back in the chamber with Liora. All the pedestals were gone, leaving only the central platform and the towering figure of the Watcher.

**"You have faced your echoes,"** the entity intoned, its layered voice resonating through the chamber. **"Now, the true trial begins."**

Eryndor straightened, determination overriding his fatigue. Whatever challenges awaited him next, he was ready to face them head-on. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt a glimmer of control—a sense that his fate was finally in his own hands.

And with that, he stepped forward, prepared to confront whatever lay beyond.