I Became the Timekeeper: Juno and the Minutes of her Shattered Deaths

"Time can heal, time can break. But what does time owe the one it betrays?"

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The classroom was too bright, too loud, too suffocating. Juno's eyes fluttered open as she stirred back to consciousness, the familiar sight of the classroom greeting her once more.

Her classmates were in their usual places—Maeve giggling with the twins, her teacher droning on about something dull, the other students murmuring under their breaths.

Juno leaned back in her chair, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Again," she whispered to herself, the weight of her situation pressing down on her chest. The hooded figure had killed her. Again. Even in the supposed safety of her dorm, it had tracked her down.

"How does it find me?" she muttered under her breath.

She buried her face in her arms, slumping against her desk.

"Tired," she murmured. "I'm so... tired."

The teacher's voice cut through her haze.

"Juno?" the teacher called out. "Juno, are you listening?"

Juno didn't respond. She didn't even lift her head.

"Miss Luminara," the teacher said again, irritation creeping into her tone.

Still, Juno remained silent.

Maeve leaned over, her delicate fingers prodding Juno's shoulder.

"Hey, Juno, she's talking to you," Maeve whispered.

Juno didn't budge.

The twins chimed in, their voices laced with mockery.

"Maybe she's asleep," one teased.

"Or dead," the other added with a snicker.

The teacher, finally losing her patience, stormed over to Juno's desk.

"Juno Luminara," she barked. "This is unacceptable—"

The teacher grabbed Juno's arm, attempting to pull it away from the desk.

And froze.

Her hand recoiled as if she'd touched ice.

"She's... cold," the teacher whispered, her voice trembling.

"What?" Maeve asked, her laughter dying instantly.

"She's freezing. Like—like she's dead," the teacher stammered.

The room fell silent, the air thick with unease.

The teacher turned to the other students, her voice sharp with panic.

"Get her to the infirmary. Now!"

Maeve and a few others rushed to Juno's side, their hands gripping her arms and lifting her to her feet.

"Wait, I'm fine," Juno said, her voice flat and hollow. She let out a humorless laugh. "Just tired, that's all."

But her protests were ignored as they dragged her out of the room.

Juno sat stiffly on the clinic bed, the nurse bustling around her with a concerned frown.

"Your hands are like ice," the nurse said, wrapping a blanket around her. "Have you been feeling unwell?"

"I said I'm fine," Juno insisted, her voice tinged with irritation. "I just need to go back to my dorm."

"Where is her dorm?" the nurse asked, turning to Maeve and the other students.

Maeve shrugged. "Only Juno knows that. She's... secretive about it."

The nurse sighed, clearly frustrated.

But it's a chilling realization.

Maeve's words struck Juno like a thunderbolt.

Only I know where my dorm is.

The hooded figure had found her there with ease. How? Magic? Some kind of tracking ability? Or was it something deeper?

And then, like a whisper in her mind, the figure's last words came rushing back.

"Time can only tell."

Her blood ran cold.

Her connection to time was her constant companion—her greatest weapon and, perhaps, her greatest vulnerability. Was the hooded figure... connected to her?

The mirror's truth.

Juno shoved past the nurse and students, ignoring their protests as she bolted from the infirmary.

"Juno, wait!" Maeve called, but Juno didn't stop.

She found herself in the comfort room once more, the cold tiles and faint fluorescent light casting an eerie glow over the space. She walked to the sink, her steps slow and deliberate, and raised her head to meet her own reflection.

The mirror was normal—too normal. Its pristine surface mocked her, offering no answers, no clues.

But she remembered the unnerving glitch she'd seen before, the way her reflection had moved out of sync.

Her heart pounded as she leaned closer.

"I know you're going to kill me," she said, her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her throat. "But I think... I finally know who you are now."

Her reflection didn't mimic her words.

Instead, it smiled.

The sight of it—the eerie, knowing grin—sent shivers down her spine.

The reflection tilted its head, its movements slow and deliberate, like a predator toying with its prey.

"But do you know why?" it asked, its voice low and chilling.

Juno's breath caught in her throat.

"Why I have to kill you?"

The words dripped with malice, each syllable slicing through her composure.

Juno stumbled back, her hands gripping the edge of the sink as the reflection's smile widened, its eyes glinting with an otherworldly light.

"Why?" she rasped, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you doing this? Why are you killing me? What's happening? Why are we here?"

The reflection tilted its head again, the smile faltering into something more somber, almost pitying.

"Why?" it echoed, as though savoring the word. "Because, Juno… we are dead."

The room seemed to close in around her, the air thick and suffocating. Juno staggered back, clutching the edge of the sink for support.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "That's… that's not possible. I'm standing right here! How can I be dead if I'm still here?"

The reflection sighed, almost as though tired of explaining itself. Its gaze locked onto hers, piercing and unrelenting.

"You're here because you're not supposed to be," it said. "You, this version of Juno, are the only one among the countless infinite Junos of endless possibilities who changed the trajectory of their fate. Do you know how you did that?"

Juno's lips parted, but no words came out.

The reflection leaned closer, its voice dropping to a whisper.

"You killed yourself."

Memories surged into Juno's mind like a flood—her and her companions, Selene and Exos, cornered by the chimera. The impossible decision. Her blade piercing her own chest to force the rewind and save them.

The realization hit her like a punch to the gut.

"I…" Juno stammered. "I had to. To save them."

"And in doing so, you destroyed the order of time," the reflection said, its voice hardening. "That act—forcing a rewind through your own death—was something you were never meant to do. But you did it anyway. And now all the other versions of you, the ones who met their fated ends, have been dragged into the chaos you created."

Juno's head spun, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

"What does that even mean?" she demanded. "How could I affect them? They're… they're me, but they're not me."

"Time is not a thread," the reflection said, its voice calm, almost patient. "It is a web. A force rewind like yours doesn't just stretch your timeline—it pulls at every strand connected to you. Every version of you who died, every possibility that ended, has been disturbed. And as long as you're alive, time is at unrest. You are the Timekeeper who betrayed the order of time."

Juno stumbled back, her knees threatening to buckle.

"But I didn't do it for myself," she argued, her voice trembling. "I did it to save Selene and Exos. They're the only companions I've ever had—"

"They were never meant to matter to you," the reflection interrupted sharply. "You're supposed to be focused. Detached. Your purpose as the Timekeeper is to maintain the balance of time, not to forge bonds with mortals. And yet, you chose them over your duty. You chose to break time itself."

The reflection's voice turned cold, laced with disgust.

"And because of that, the system is failing. Glitching. The abilities it grants you—the ones you've never studied, the powers you don't understand—they're not meant for you. They're fragments, stolen from other versions of you. And they are unstable."

Juno's mind reeled as the pieces fell into place. The abilities that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, the oddities in the system, the way it felt both ancient and futuristic.

"The system is from the future and the past," she murmured, more to herself than to the reflection. "It's… unstable because it's trying to make sense of what I've done."

"Exactly," the reflection said. Its tone softened, but the menace in its eyes remained. "As Timekeeper, your rewind—the ability to rewind one minute after your death—was your tool against the Void, a safeguard to preserve the balance. But you abused it. You stretched your own time beyond its limit. You killed yourself to cheat death, and now…"

The reflection's smile returned, darker than ever.

"Now you're a mess. A glitch. I was the one who's supposed to survive Agredor and yet I am here with you. You've dragged me into it."

The reflection straightened, its image growing sharper, more vivid. It raised its hand, and a Chronosword—identical to Juno's but crackling with an unnatural energy—manifested in its grasp.

"But this ends now," it said. "You've unraveled the threads of time long enough. I will end you and restore what should have been."

Before Juno could respond, the reflection lunged at her, the Chronosword slicing through the air.

Juno stumbled back, panic flooding her veins as she turned and ran. She burst out of the comfort room, the reflection's footsteps echoing behind her.

"Juno!" Maeve's voice called out, startled. She and the twins stood in the hallway, their expressions shifting from confusion to horror as the reflection emerged, looking exactly like Juno but with an otherworldly presence.

Maeve stepped forward, her hand outstretched. "What the hell is—"

The reflection didn't hesitate. Its Chronosword slashed through the air, and Maeve crumpled to the ground before she could finish her sentence.

"No!" Juno screamed, her voice raw with terror.

The twins moved to retaliate, but they too fell in quick succession, their bodies lifeless on the cold floor.

Juno's legs moved on instinct, carrying her away from the scene as sobs wracked her body. She ducked into an empty classroom, her back pressed against the door as she struggled to catch her breath.

Her mind raced, the reflection's words replaying in her head.

"The system is fragments of other versions of you."

"Your rewind is your instrument, but you stretched it too far."

If the reflection could use powers and abilities from her memories, then…

Her thoughts clicked into place.

I can do the same.

Her chest heaved as a mixture of fear and determination surged within her.

She closed her eyes, reaching into the chaotic web of her memories, searching for anything—anyone—that could help her.

If this was a battle of time, then she would wield her own past against it.

"Time. I need you."