Abhinandan_singh

An Anthology of Futures, Failures, and Forgotten Fates

In a fractured multiverse where time is currency and memory is weaponized, Kael Voss—a sarcastic ex-agent of the Time Weavers—finds himself tangled in a deadly rebellion led by his own alternate self: the enigmatic Ghost Ronin.

When Kael is sent to erase his Variant for threatening timeline stability, he discovers a deeper conspiracy: the Time Weavers have been hiding the truth about who controls history—and what they’ve done to those who dared rewrite it.

Guided by Myra, a precognitive child who remembers futures that never happened, Kael journeys through 200 haunting, hilarious, and high-octane chapters spanning dystopian empires, cyber-samurai cities, looping wars, ancient civilizations reprogrammed by AI, and timelines that bleed into myth.

Each chapter is a standalone tale—part mystery, part battle, part tragedy—that weaves into the central narrative: one man trying to outrun his fate by confronting every version of himself.

Futuristic, thrilling, darkly humorous, and emotionally explosive, ChronoKnots is a time-traveling anthology where every story counts—and every second kills.

chronoKnotes: Tales of Time Unraveled

Anchor 4044.X — The Threadspire Citadel

The Threadspire stood at the end of time itself — a vertical city spun entirely from threadlines of causality. Each spire, each hall, each door... an event that once happened, or could have. The Weavers lived here, watched here, ruled from here.

Temporal Infiltration Log – Team Composition:

Aren (ChronoSeed – Suppressed State)

They moved silently through impossible halls where time dripped like wax from floating candles. Portraits on the walls showed Kael dying in every way imaginable.

Another — Myra pulling the trigger.

Ghost Ronin snarled. "They document every reality that suits their lies."

At the chamber's heart, they reached The Atrium of Masks — a dome of glass and stitched logic, where the High Weaver sat on a throne of woven destiny. His mask — blank, silver, featureless — reflected every future and none.

"You shouldn't be here," the Weaver's voice said. It echoed like pages turning in reverse.

Kael stepped forward. "You've been rewriting us."

The Weaver tilted its head. "We refine timelines for survival. Yours… diverge dangerously."

"You erased Kael Zero," Myra snapped. "You looped Variant 3. You lied to us."

"We made peace from chaos. Your kind makes fiction from fact."

Kael's jaw clenched. "Fiction is how we survive. It's what you fear. Because it can't be predicted."

The Weaver stood. "Your myth ends here."

Older. Sharper. Worn down by centuries of paradox. His eyes were gold-threaded.

The Weaver nodded. "The final version. The one who gave in. I became what I had to — the weaver of lies, the keeper of the tangle. Because no one else would."

Ghost Ronin raised his sword. "Then it's time for a rewrite."

Chrono-blades, collapsing probability, narrative loops turning into weapons.

Kael and his Variants fought in unison — memory against control, myth versus record. For every timeline the Weaver pulled to crush them, the Kaels countered with one that should have been.

The Prime Kael grabbed the silver mask from the floor and slammed it into the archive core.

The entire Threadspire blinked out of existence — leaving a ripple where fate had been.

Kael Variant Confirmed: Threadmaster [Deceased?]

Myra leaned against Kael. "He was you."

Kael whispered, "No. He was me. But I'll never be him."

Aren stirred. For the first time, he spoke clearly:

> "You're unraveling their whole design. One thread at a time."

Kael looked out into the chrono-stars.

The Weaver’s Mask Falls