Memory of the First Betrayal

The sky burned red.

A hue that didn't belong to any natural sun, but to a realm forgotten—a memory buried under scars and silence.

Aeris landed hard, dirt scraping her palms, her breath stolen by the sheer weight of the moment. She rolled onto her back, gasping, staring up at the sky.

Clouds twisted unnaturally, spiraling in the shape of a giant broken clock, its hands frozen—the hour of betrayal.

"Where... are we?" she muttered, struggling to her feet.

Kael groaned nearby, kneeling in the ashes of what used to be a garden. Dead vines curled around shattered stones. Half-burnt flowers wilted into blackness.

"I know this place," Kael whispered, brushing his hand over a scorched petal. His voice cracked. "This was... where we first kissed."

Aeris froze.

Everything around them—the path, the broken bench, even the single half-melted lantern—was a warped echo of a memory she had tried to bury.

The boy stood silently between them, watching. The wind tousled his silver hair, but his expression was locked, distant.

"This is a paradox field," he said quietly. "A sealed memory where all your timelines converge. Your first kiss… and your first betrayal."

Aeris blinked. "Betrayal?"

Kael's face paled. "No. Not here. Don't make me—"

"It's not me," the boy said, gaze distant. "It's the memory itself. It's waking up."

Suddenly, a scream tore the silence. Not distant, but close—horrifyingly close.

Kael turned sharply toward the garden's far edge, where a wall of fog twisted and pulsed with shadow.

And from it emerged… her.

Not Aeris.

Another Aeris. Slightly younger. Battle-worn. Her eyes wild, filled with betrayal and hurt.

"Why did you lie to me, Kael?!" she shouted.

Kael stumbled back. "No. This isn't real."

"You promised me we'd fix the Rift together. But you chose her over me."

"I never—"

"LIAR!"

She raised her hand—and the fog behind her twisted into a monstrous shape, shaped like the Rift given form, coiling like a serpent of time itself.

The current Aeris stepped forward, breath trembling. "That's not me."

"No," the boy whispered. "That's the version of you Kael failed to save… the one that turned against him."

Kael clenched his fists. "I buried this memory."

"But the memory didn't bury you."

Suddenly, the shadow creature lunged—its maw wide, filled with clocks ticking backward.

Kael pushed Aeris behind him, instinct driving his muscles.

He summoned his flame—but it flickered weakly.

The memory Aeris laughed cruelly. "You can't fight what you did."

The garden warped, and suddenly the ground under Kael split into a thousand reflections, each showing versions of him making different choices:

— Killing the Rift.— Letting Aeris die.— Taking the boy's power for himself.— Abandoning everyone.

Kael fell to his knees.

"I didn't do those things."

"But you could have," the boy whispered. "And maybe… you will."

Suddenly, a voice pierced the air—calm, cold, ancient.

"Fascinating."

A new figure stepped into the garden—dressed in silver and violet, eyes glinting like crystalized futures. His presence pulled at the fabric of time like gravity.

"I've waited so long to meet you both... the ones who dared to survive the Rift."

Aeris's breath caught. "Who are you?"

The man smiled—but there was no warmth.

"I am the Historian. The one who writes how the world ends. And you just entered the final page."

CRACK!

The ground quaked.

The real garden shattered.

Memory, illusion, and reality began to bleed into each other, forming a collapsing storm of futures and pasts.

The boy gasped, clutching his chest.

"No—no no no—he's rewriting the field!"

Kael reached for him, but time between them began to glitch—seconds repeating, then vanishing.

"We have to get out!" Aeris yelled, grabbing Kael's wrist.

"We can't," the boy said, trembling. "Not without facing the memory."

"What memory?!"

He turned slowly, eyes glassy.

"The one Kael never told you.The day… he chose someone else over you."

Aeris froze.

Kael's silence was louder than any scream.

Her hand slowly slipped from his.