The caravan moved slowly across the reshaped landscape, the silence of the earth beneath their wheels unsettling. Forests once mapped with precision had shifted, twisted into unfamiliar shapes. Valleys once shallow now plunged deep into the earth, and rivers flowed against gravity, meandering upward into clouded skies. The aftershocks of the Chronophage's fall were not yet over.
Caius rode at the head of the caravan, his eyes sharp beneath his hood. Though the battle in the Valley of Stillness had ended, the ripples in time continued to surge outward like the rings of a stone cast into a lake. There was no telling where they would lead, or what they would become.
Behind him, Selene and Elias rode side by side. Selene's expression was unreadable, but her hand never strayed far from her weapon. Elias, on the other hand, had been scribbling constantly in his journal, making note of every unnatural phenomenon they passed: a flock of birds flying backward, a grove of trees that aged and un-aged in a continuous loop, and stones that whispered warnings in forgotten dialects.
"The timeline is splintered," Elias muttered, flipping to a new page. "Not broken, but riddled with cracks. Like stained glass."
Their destination was a fortress known as Erith's Reach, built into the mountains long ago and fortified against both natural and arcane threats. According to scattered reports, it had become a convergence point for other survivors—mages, timekeepers, old allies and enemies alike—all seeking answers. Or perhaps shelter from the unpredictable world outside.
As night fell, they made camp at the base of a ridge. A strange aurora shimmered overhead, warping the stars into spiraling symbols. Caius stood watch, the Chronomancer's Heart pulsing slowly under his tunic. He could feel the rift-lines running through the land—delicate, like spiderwebs, yet filled with immense energy.
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the darkness.
"Caius," the voice called, cracked and hoarse.
Weapons were drawn in an instant, but Caius held up a hand. The figure stumbled forward into the firelight, revealing a gaunt, grizzled man clad in robes that shimmered with temporal wards.
"You… you don't remember me," the man rasped. "But I remember you. I'm what remains of the Fifth Witness."
Elias blinked. "The Fifth Witness perished in the First Collapse. That was centuries ago."
"To you," the man replied. "To me, it was last month. I walked the Spiral Veins. I saw what comes next."
He collapsed at their feet, barely conscious. Selene knelt beside him, checking his pulse. "He's alive. But barely."
Caius stared at the man, a chill crawling down his spine. The Spiral Veins were theoretical—a myth, a supposed network of time tunnels that spiraled through alternate pasts. If this man had traveled them, then their situation was worse than they thought.
"What did you see?" Caius asked.
The man opened one bloodshot eye. "The End. Not just of time—of everything. And it's coming faster than we can stop it."
They pushed onward the next morning, burdened now not only with questions, but with a warning that clawed at every step. The Fifth Witness was weak, but lucid. He spoke of Chronoquakes—massive ruptures in the timeline that devoured entire realities. Of a new force, unnamed, unformed, but feeding on paradoxes like carrion.
"It is not the Chronophage reborn," he whispered. "It is worse. It is the echo of every mistake we have ever unmade."
As Erith's Reach came into view—its great spires still intact against a backdrop of fractured sky—Caius felt the pressure in his chest grow. Whatever lay ahead, they were running out of time to face it.
And time, once more, was beginning to twist.