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

"Sometimes, the only way to save yourself is to face the shadow wearing your face—and hope you're stronger than the echoes of your own mistakes."

---

Juno sat at her desk, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge, her mind racing. The buzz of the teacher's voice at the front of the room was meaningless static—a cheap imitation of normalcy. The bright daylight streaming through the windows mocked her. Everything around her felt fake. Her reflection's dying words, Agredor's taunts, and the chimera void spawn—it all hammered in her skull like a drumbeat of despair.

She was alive again, seated in this pristine classroom, with Maeve on her left, the twins giggling on her right, and her teacher prattling on. But none of it felt right. It was like trying to wear a mask that didn't fit. She rubbed her temples, trying to make sense of it all, but the harder she thought, the tighter the knot became.

Her reflection had said she fractured timelines to save Selene and Exos—choices that had created cracks in reality. Was this classroom another splintered fragment? Or was it Agredor's playground, as he had so gleefully declared? The thought chilled her.

I'm being played all along?

The classroom hummed with the low murmur of students, the rustle of papers, and the faint buzz of a flickering light overhead. Juno sat by the window, her gaze fixed on the sprawling cityscape outside, though she wasn't really seeing it. Her hands were folded neatly on the desk, but her knuckles were pale from the pressure. The world outside the glass seemed so ordinary, so untouched by the horrors that had clawed their way into her reality. Yet she knew better.

The ordinary was a lie.

In her mind, the reflection's sneer was as vivid as the blood pooling beneath its feet. Its voice echoed like the chime of broken bells. "This is why you must die."

She then remembered the two back in the crystalline world, who she saved that caused that reflection to hunt her. Selene's ragged breath as she fell. Exos's collapse, his weapons spiraling into shards of light. Their faces haunted her. Faces she'd saved—no, borrowed from a future she had no right to rewrite.

But I had to, there was no choice. She thought to herself.

Remembering it all, her reflection had lunged at her, an echo of herself, twisted by desperation and rage. It wasn't just an enemy. It was her, the version of herself she had become in another timeline, wielding the same cursed chronosword, the same unstable system. That reflection had been consumed by the fractures Juno had created. And now she wondered: was she just a step behind that madness?

The system—her system—had glitched again when she needed it most. No updates, no alerts, just static and voided promises. Was it ever hers to begin with? The truth burned in her mind now: it wasn't. It had been stolen, borrowed from her future selves who had failed, who had fallen into the same trap. Perhaps she wasn't the master of the system; she was its puppet, holding onto fragments that weren't meant to last.

She think things through, I'm trapped here until my mind go mad. But how can I be mad? There must be a loophole from all of this.

Her thoughts spiraled back to the cultists, her tragic past she had tried to forget, the cold stone altar where she had once lain as a child. Their chants had been guttural, alien, dripping with reverence for the Aspect of Time. She had been their chosen vessel, a lamb born for slaughter—or so they thought. The Eternal Cradle Song had been their dirge. It was meant to lull her into a trance, to tether her soul to the void. But something in her—some primal fragment of her power—had lashed out instead.

She had cried blood that day, her screams piercing through their chants. Time wraiths, born of her fragmented memories, had answered her agony. They tore through the cultists like shadows given life, their forms fluid and horrifying. Yet even as a child, she remembered their whispers. They weren't allies. They were hunger itself, feeding on her memories, leaving voided spaces where her past should have been.

Her fingers trembled as she thought about those voids. What had been stolen from her? Who had she been before the cultists? Before the system? Before the endless deaths and resets?

She remembers it all vividly. Her reflection had died in front of her. And then Agredor had appeared.

Juno's grip tightened as she remembered the cold amusement in his voice. The Void Lord's presence had been suffocating, a gravitational pull that bent reality itself. His words were sharp, each syllable a barbed hook that lodged itself into her thoughts.

"I must say, Juno," he had said, his deep, velvety voice dripping with condescension, "it's been… entertaining, watching you fumble through my little playground."

Playground. That's what it was to him. A sandbox of fractured timelines, twisted realities, and broken memories—all for his amusement. And now, she sat in this classroom, a pawn waiting for the next move, knowing he was watching. He had always been watching.

Her reflection had been right about one thing: she had fractured everything. Every decision, every desperate rewind to save Selene or Exos, every gamble she'd taken to claw back a semblance of control—it had only deepened the cracks.

And now Agredor was waiting, biding his time. Or perhaps he wasn't waiting at all. Perhaps he was already moving, unseen, twisting the threads she couldn't yet grasp.

She stared at her hands, as if expecting them to hold answers. What could she use? The memories that haunted her? The system that betrayed her? The chronosword that no longer obeyed her? Each option felt like grasping at smoke.

Despair coiled around her like a snake, tightening with every breath. She could feel it in her chest, an unbearable weight pressing against her ribs. She was powerless. She was alone. And the clock was ticking.

But then, beneath the despair, a spark flickered. If Agredor was playing a game, then there had to be rules. And rules could be broken. Her reflection had been a warning—a twisted, distorted warning. The time wraiths were a clue. Her memories, stolen and fragmented, were still hers. If they were being used to torment her, then they could be weaponized.

She thought of the Eternal Cradle Song, the lullaby that had once made her bleed. It wasn't just a tool of torment. It was power. The wraiths had answered it before. Could they answer it again? Could she twist the void to her will, just as it had twisted her?

Her mind raced, connecting threads that seemed too thin to hold. The cultists. The void. Agredor's playground. The fragments of her system. The reflection's death. It all had to mean something. If she could just see the pattern…

But there was no time to think. Not really. Not when Agredor was watching. Not when the clock was always ticking.

Her heart hammered as she sat in that ordinary classroom, surrounded by ordinary people. None of them knew. None of them could help. But Juno didn't need help. She needed a plan. And she would keep thinking, keep clawing at the edges of despair until she found it.

Because no matter how much of herself she had to sacrifice, no matter how many timelines she had to destroy, she would find a way to end this. Agredor thought he was playing a game. But Juno was done playing.

"If that reflection had died, it can too, again, I just have to think of a way again to pull the strings like that. What can I use?" she uttered to herself.

The ordinary classroom had always felt surreal in its normalcy. Now it was a mockery.

Juno blinked, her mind churning with the storm of her thoughts, when she noticed it. A twitch—a flicker of movement that shouldn't have been there. Maeve, sitting at the desk across from her, turned her head a fraction too sharply. Her smile, normally warm and teasing, stretched unnaturally wide. The corners of her lips tore, black ichor seeping out as her teeth—razor-sharp and glinting—peeked through.

Then Maeve's face changed.

Agredor's face emerged from her flesh, his deep, bottomless eyes drilling into Juno's soul. His smirk twisted wider, and his voice, resonating from every direction at once, filled the room.

"Did you think I'd leave you to your thoughts, Juno?" he drawled, his tone sickly sweet, laced with venom. "Oh, how fascinating it is to watch you squirm. But you've been too entertaining for too long. Let's make this more... visceral."

Juno froze, her breath hitching as her teacher, the twins in the back row, and every other student turned to her in perfect synchronization. One by one, their faces peeled back, revealing Agredor's laughing visage. A chorus of his laughter erupted, layered and overlapping, reverberating through the room like a thousand dying clocks.

The first desk flew at her, splintering against the wall as she ducked. The laughter didn't stop. It grew louder, more mocking.

"Run," Agredor's voice whispered, this time from within her own mind. "I dare you."

Juno didn't need to be told twice.

She bolted, her chair clattering to the ground as she shoved through the desks, the screech of metal legs dragging across the floor. Her classmates—no, her pursuers—lunged at her. Maeve's elongated arms clawed at her jacket, tearing the leather as Juno barely managed to slip free.

She burst into the hallway, her boots pounding against the tiles. The once-familiar corridors of the school twisted before her eyes, the walls elongating, shrinking, warping into jagged angles. The fluorescent lights flickered erratically, casting long, shifting shadows that seemed to reach for her.

Behind her, the chorus of laughter and the sound of shuffling, inhuman footsteps grew louder. She didn't look back. She couldn't.

Her lungs burned, and her legs screamed in protest, but she pushed forward. Turning a corner, she slammed through the library doors, her breath ragged. The smell of old books and dust greeted her, but the shelves stretched impossibly high, spiraling into darkness.

She dove between two rows of books, pressing herself against the shelves, her heart pounding in her ears. Her hand instinctively reached for her chronosword, but it wasn't there. It hadn't been there for weeks—not since her system had failed her. She clenched her fists, trying to steady her breathing.

The sound of footsteps filled the library, slow and deliberate.

"Juno," Agredor's voice cooed, echoing from every corner. "Hiding? That's no fun. You've always been good at running, haven't you? But where do you think you'll go now?"

A shadow passed by the end of the aisle, and Juno bit down on her lip to stifle a gasp. She could see them—her classmates, their limbs contorted and wrong, their faces still plastered with Agredor's cruel smirk. One of them dragged a metal ruler across the floor, the sound sharp and grating.

She waited until the footsteps faded before she moved. Crouching low, she crept along the aisle, her boots silent against the carpeted floor.

Then a hand shot out from the shelf, clawing at her arm. She screamed, wrenching herself free, but not before the claws tore through her sleeve, leaving bloody gashes in their wake and in her skirt.

The chase resumed.

Juno bolted through the library, weaving between the endless rows of books. She knocked over a cart, scattering volumes across the floor, hoping to slow them down. It worked—barely.

She burst through another door, finding herself in the art room. Paintings lined the walls, their subjects shifting and writhing as if alive. A sculpture in the corner turned its head to watch her, its stone eyes narrowing.

Juno slammed the door behind her, grabbing a chair to wedge it under the handle. She backed away, her chest heaving, as the pounding began.

"Open the door, Juno," Agredor's voice sang. "Let's make this more exciting."

The door cracked, splinters flying as the pounding grew more violent. Juno's eyes darted around the room, searching for an exit. Her gaze landed on a ventilation shaft near the ceiling.

Desperate, she climbed onto a desk, her arms trembling as she pulled herself into the narrow duct. The door burst open just as she disappeared into the shadows.

The ducts were cramped, the metal cold against her skin. She crawled as quickly as she could, her breaths shallow and labored. Below her, she could hear them—Agredor's puppets, searching, hunting.

"You can't hide forever," he taunted.

Her arms gave out, and she tumbled out of the duct, landing hard on the cafeteria floor. Pain shot through her side, but she scrambled to her feet. The room was empty, eerily quiet.

Then the laughter began again.

They were here.

Juno ran, the tables and chairs a blur as she sprinted toward the far exit. She didn't make it. One of them—a classmate she barely recognized now—grabbed her leg, dragging her down. She kicked out, her boot connecting with their jaw, but not before their claws raked across her calf.

Blood stained the floor as she stumbled to her feet, limping toward the door.

She was cornered now, backed against a wall in the music room. The instruments hung from the ceiling like grotesque chandeliers, their strings and keys twisted into unnatural shapes.

Agredor's puppets closed in, their faces grotesque parodies of humanity. Juno's vision blurred, her strength waning.

But then she remembered.

The song.

"The clock may turn, the sand may fall,

Time's gentle cradle breaks us all.

Tick tock, the lullaby we sing,

A harbinger's tears, a reckoning."

Her voice was shaky at first, barely a whisper, but it grew louder, more desperate. The melody of the Eternal Cradle Song filled the room, its haunting notes weaving through the air.

Her eyes burned, and she felt the warm trickle of blood streaming down her cheeks. The puppets hesitated, their movements jerky and uncertain.

The ground beneath her began to glow, a circle of crimson light forming at her feet. The air grew heavy, crackling with energy.

Juno sang louder, her voice breaking as the blood circle expanded, the symbols within it shifting and pulsing.

And then, with a deafening roar, the circle erupted, forming a swirling portal of light and shadow.

Juno stared into the void, its pull irresistible.

And then, everything went black.

---

Juno's body was weightless, spinning through an endless void. She couldn't see, couldn't breathe, couldn't think beyond the sensation of falling. Flailing wildly, she grasped at nothing, the void swallowing her screams. Her heart pounded like a war drum, terror squeezing her chest.

Then, a faint warmth.

She opened her eyes—or thought she did. A soft orange glow enveloped her, and suddenly she was running. No, she wasn't running alone—two figures were beside her, hands gripping hers tightly.

"Selene? Exos?" Juno gasped, struggling to make sense of it. The twin crescents of Selene's daggers caught the fading sunlight. Exos's sharp gaze and stoic demeanor were just as she remembered. The three of them sprinted through a grassy clearing under a breathtaking sunset. The warm wind whipped through Juno's hair, carrying a feeling of peace so alien it almost felt wrong.

For a fleeting moment, it was perfect. Like none of it had ever happened.

But then the sky cracked.

The peaceful amber hue turned to crimson, bleeding across the horizon. The sun flickered like a dying bulb, replaced by a black void. Selene's laugh echoed, but it was wrong—twisted, broken. Juno turned to her, horrified to see black blood dripping from her eyes, nose, and mouth, staining her porcelain skin. Exos was no different, his once-sharp eyes now hollow pits of darkness, his hand like ice crushing hers.

Juno screamed. The crimson world crumbled around her, and her vision was swallowed by darkness again.

Her eyes snapped open, and she found herself sprawled on cold, uneven ground. Breathing heavily, she pushed herself to her knees. The air here was thick, oppressive, and reeked of damp stone and decay. Shadows loomed everywhere, stretching unnaturally, twisting like living things.

She turned, watching in horror as the portal behind her flickered and sealed itself shut, trapping her in this place. Those who had chased her didn't follow; their shrieks were muffled by the portal's collapse. For a brief moment, relief coursed through her—until she realized where she was.

"No," she whispered, her voice trembling.

The place was unmistakable: the cavernous halls of her childhood. A memory she had buried so deep it had festered, rotting her from the inside out. This was where the cultists had kept her. The jagged stone walls were etched with glowing sigils that pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat. Rusted iron cages and broken instruments of torture were strewn about, some stained with dried blood. Above, a ceiling of impossible height faded into pitch black, its oppressive weight pressing down on her chest.

Juno stumbled forward, her boots scraping against the uneven ground. She shivered as a memory surfaced: her younger self cowering in one of these cages, her tiny voice humming the lullaby the cultists had sung to her.

Her heart was pounding, but the silence was deafening. No whispers, no distant screams—just the eerie hum of the sigils and her own uneven breathing.

Then came the footsteps.

Juno froze, her body tensing. The sound was faint but deliberate, growing louder with each passing second. Panicked, she ducked behind a crumbling pillar, peering out cautiously.

A child darted past her hiding spot, barefoot and filthy. Juno's breath hitched. The child's hair was a tangled mess, but it was unmistakably hers—her younger self, no more than five years old, sprinting down the hall, her face streaked with tears.

"Run," Juno mouthed, watching as her younger self glanced over her shoulder, her wide eyes filled with terror. A moment later, shadowy figures cloaked in black surged into view, their voices a cacophony of chants. They caught her with ease, dragging her back as her screams echoed through the chamber.

"No!" Juno whispered, her voice breaking. She clutched her head as the memories surged, too vivid to be ignored. The sound of her younger self crying out sent her spiraling, tears streaming down her face as she crumpled to her knees. "I can't... I can't see this again."

She sobbed quietly, pressing her hands to her ears in a futile attempt to block it out. But the past had teeth, and it wasn't done biting.

Another set of footsteps echoed down the corridor, heavier and slower. Juno wiped her eyes and peeked out from her hiding spot, her stomach churning.

A figure emerged from the shadows—a hooded reflection of herself, serene yet unnervingly detached. Its cloak swirled as it walked, each step measured. Unlike before, it seemed… calm. It wasn't searching for her, nor did it seem aware of her presence.

Juno's blood ran cold as she watched the reflection encounter a group of cultists. They stood frozen for a moment before one of them raised a blade, shouting something in the cult's twisted tongue.

The reflection didn't flinch. In an instant, it vanished—only to reappear behind the cultists, the Chronosword gleaming in its hand. A single swipe, and the cultists crumpled, their bodies disintegrating into wisps of black mist.

Juno stifled a gasp. The reflection she had seen before was nothing like this. It didn't hesitate, didn't gloat—just executed its enemies with surgical precision. Its calm, eerie demeanor unnerved her more than its rage ever had.

The Chronosword vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and the reflection continued walking, its head tilting slightly as if deep in thought.

Juno stayed hidden, trembling. Her mind raced as she tried to piece everything together. If I could summon the time wraiths by remembering them… does that mean I brought myself here by singing the song? Could this place—this memory—be a key?

Her thoughts spiraled. What does it mean that the reflection is here too? Is it drawn to the same memories, the same pain? Or did the Void send it here to finish me?

For now, the reflection hadn't noticed her, but she knew it was only a matter of time. She pressed her back against the cold stone, her mind churning. If I can summon creatures from my memories… if I can bring myself here… maybe I can use this place. Maybe it's not just torment—it's a tool.

She inhaled sharply as a realization hit her. The song. If it can summon time wraiths and bring me to places in my memory… what else can it do? Could it create something? Alter something?

The sound of distant chanting broke her thoughts. She peeked around the pillar to see the reflection standing at the center of the cavern, surrounded by more cultists. Their chanting grew louder, reverberating through the air like the tolling of a bell.

The reflection raised a hand, and the Chronosword reappeared, gleaming ominously.

Juno swallowed hard. I don't have much time.

Juno's body was weightless, spinning through an endless void. She couldn't see, couldn't breathe, couldn't think beyond the sensation of falling. Flailing wildly, she grasped at nothing, the void swallowing her screams. Her heart pounded like a war drum, terror squeezing her chest.

Then, a faint warmth.

She opened her eyes—or thought she did. A soft orange glow enveloped her, and suddenly she was running. No, she wasn't running alone—two figures were beside her, hands gripping hers tightly.

"Selene? Exos?" Juno gasped, struggling to make sense of it. The twin crescents of Selene's daggers caught the fading sunlight. Exos's sharp gaze and stoic demeanor were just as she remembered. The three of them sprinted through a grassy clearing under a breathtaking sunset. The warm wind whipped through Juno's hair, carrying a feeling of peace so alien it almost felt wrong.

For a fleeting moment, it was perfect. Like none of it had ever happened.

But then the sky cracked.

The peaceful amber hue turned to crimson, bleeding across the horizon. The sun flickered like a dying bulb, replaced by a black void. Selene's laugh echoed, but it was wrong—twisted, broken. Juno turned to her, horrified to see black blood dripping from her eyes, nose, and mouth, staining her porcelain skin. Exos was no different, his once-sharp eyes now hollow pits of darkness, his hand like ice crushing hers.

Juno screamed. The crimson world crumbled around her, and her vision was swallowed by darkness again.

Her eyes snapped open, and she found herself sprawled on cold, uneven ground. Breathing heavily, she pushed herself to her knees. The air here was thick, oppressive, and reeked of damp stone and decay. Shadows loomed everywhere, stretching unnaturally, twisting like living things.

She turned, watching in horror as the portal behind her flickered and sealed itself shut, trapping her in this place. Those who had chased her didn't follow; their shrieks were muffled by the portal's collapse. For a brief moment, relief coursed through her—until she realized where she was.

"No," she whispered, her voice trembling.

The place was unmistakable: the cavernous halls of her childhood. A memory she had buried so deep it had festered, rotting her from the inside out. This was where the cultists had kept her. The jagged stone walls were etched with glowing sigils that pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat. Rusted iron cages and broken instruments of torture were strewn about, some stained with dried blood. Above, a ceiling of impossible height faded into pitch black, its oppressive weight pressing down on her chest.

Juno stumbled forward, her boots scraping against the uneven ground. She shivered as a memory surfaced: her younger self cowering in one of these cages, her tiny voice humming the lullaby the cultists had sung to her.

Her heart was pounding, but the silence was deafening. No whispers, no distant screams—just the eerie hum of the sigils and her own uneven breathing.

Then came the footsteps.

Juno froze, her body tensing. The sound was faint but deliberate, growing louder with each passing second. Panicked, she ducked behind a crumbling pillar, peering out cautiously.

A child darted past her hiding spot, barefoot and filthy. Juno's breath hitched. The child's hair was a tangled mess, but it was unmistakably hers—her younger self, no more than five years old, sprinting down the hall, her face streaked with tears.

"Run," Juno mouthed, watching as her younger self glanced over her shoulder, her wide eyes filled with terror. A moment later, shadowy figures cloaked in black surged into view, their voices a cacophony of chants. They caught her with ease, dragging her back as her screams echoed through the chamber.

"No!" Juno whispered, her voice breaking. She clutched her head as the memories surged, too vivid to be ignored. The sound of her younger self crying out sent her spiraling, tears streaming down her face as she crumpled to her knees. "I can't... I can't see this again."

She sobbed quietly, pressing her hands to her ears in a futile attempt to block it out. But the past had teeth, and it wasn't done biting.

Another set of footsteps echoed down the corridor, heavier and slower. Juno wiped her eyes and peeked out from her hiding spot, her stomach churning.

A figure emerged from the shadows—a hooded reflection of herself, serene yet unnervingly detached. Its cloak swirled as it walked, each step measured. Unlike before, it seemed… calm. It wasn't searching for her, nor did it seem aware of her presence.

Juno's blood ran cold as she watched the reflection encounter a group of cultists. They stood frozen for a moment before one of them raised a blade, shouting something in the cult's twisted tongue.

The reflection didn't flinch. In an instant, it vanished—only to reappear behind the cultists, the Chronosword gleaming in its hand. A single swipe, and the cultists crumpled, their bodies disintegrating into wisps of black mist.

Juno stifled a gasp. The reflection she had seen before was nothing like this. It didn't hesitate, didn't gloat—just executed its enemies with surgical precision. Its calm, eerie demeanor unnerved her more than its rage ever had.

The Chronosword vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and the reflection continued walking, its head tilting slightly as if deep in thought.

Juno stayed hidden, trembling. Her mind raced as she tried to piece everything together. If I could summon the time wraiths by remembering them… does that mean I brought myself here by singing the song? Could this place—this memory—be a key?

Her thoughts spiraled. What does it mean that the reflection is here too? Is it drawn to the same memories, the same pain? Or did the Void send it here to finish me?

For now, the reflection hadn't noticed her, but she knew it was only a matter of time. She pressed her back against the cold stone, her mind churning. If I can summon creatures from my memories… if I can bring myself here… maybe I can use this place. Maybe it's not just torment—it's a tool.

She inhaled sharply as a realization hit her. The song. If it can summon time wraiths and bring me to places in my memory… what else can it do? Could it create something? Alter something?

The sound of distant chanting broke her thoughts. She peeked around the pillar to see the reflection standing at the center of the cavern, surrounded by more cultists. Their chanting grew louder, reverberating through the air like the tolling of a bell.

The reflection raised a hand, and the Chronosword reappeared, gleaming ominously.

Juno swallowed hard. I don't have much time.

The reflection stood amidst the dismembered mist-like remains of the cultists it had slaughtered. Its hood shifted as if scanning the cavern, and its voice rang out, calm but dripping with menace.

"Where is the child?"

The surviving cultists, those trembling in the shadows, flinched at the question. One of them stepped forward, their voice quivering as they attempted to regain composure. "The… the child? W-we do not know of what you speak, creature."

The reflection tilted its head slightly, the gesture so eerily calm that it made Juno shudder from her hiding place. "Don't waste my time. I know the child is here. I can feel it. Tell me where she is."

Juno's breath caught in her throat. Why is it looking for… her? Not me? The question pounded in her mind like a hammer. If this thing—this twisted copy of herself—was hunting for her younger self, then it wasn't after her. Not directly. What does it want with her? With me?

The cultists glanced at one another nervously. One of them, braver—or more foolish—than the others, pointed a trembling finger toward Juno's direction. "Y-you are mistaken. That… You're her! The grown one—the one who escaped!"

The reflection turned sharply, its glowing eyes narrowing as they scanned the darkness. Juno shrank further behind her hiding spot, her heart hammering in her chest. She could feel its gaze like a blade skimming her skin, and for a moment, she was sure it would find her.

But then, the reflection's calm voice broke the silence. "No." It took a slow step forward, seemingly dismissing the cultist's claim. "The child. The one from this moment, this place. The one who was just about to start everything of our times."

Juno's stomach twisted. It knows about this memory. It knows what happened here.

One of the cultists, emboldened by desperation, raised a jagged ritual blade. "This isn't your place or your time, abomination. Begone!"

The others followed suit, their weapons glinting ominously in the dim light. Juno froze, her breath shallow. The reflection stood still, unflinching as the cultists surrounded it.

"I see," the reflection murmured, its voice low and dangerous. "You want to die."

With that, it raised its hand. A shimmering distortion rippled through the air, and suddenly there were more of them—copies of the reflection stepping out from its form like shards of glass breaking off and reforming into whole bodies. Each duplicate wielded the Chronosword, their blades glowing with a menacing brilliance.

The cultists didn't stand a chance.

The reflections moved with impossible speed, blurring in and out of visibility. Juno could barely track their movements as they struck down the cultists in unison. Bloodcurdling screams filled the chamber, echoing off the jagged walls. Ritual blades clattered to the ground, their wielders reduced to mist-like remnants that faded into nothing.

In less than a heartbeat, it was over.

The reflections coalesced back into one, the original standing alone in the midst of the carnage. It lowered the Chronosword, the blade vanishing as if it had never existed. The reflection's head turned slightly, as though scanning the area.

It exhaled softly, its voice tinged with irritation. "That Juno, she was not there in Agredor's stupid memory. And that child, she's not here, it's impossible" It started to pace, its movements restless, agitated. "Of course she isn't. Agredor's little game… it's always layers upon layers of lies." The reflection paused, its glowing eyes narrowing. "But I'll find her. I'll finish this."

Juno's heart was in her throat. The reflection was leaving, its footsteps echoing as it disappeared into another corridor. She stayed frozen, her body pressed against the cold stone, not daring to breathe until the sound of its steps faded entirely.

That was too close.

She slumped back, her trembling hands clutching her knees. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of what had just happened. It's looking for her—me, the child. Why? Because this is where it all started? What does that even mean?

Her head spun with fragmented thoughts, pieces of a puzzle too vast and cruel for her to comprehend. The reflection… Agredor's memory world… this place… it's all connected. But how?

And then it hit her. A chilling realization that made her stomach drop.

If it finds the child and kills her… this timeline—my existence—it could unravel completely.

Her throat tightened as a wave of despair washed over her. The reflection was a force of nature, ruthless and unstoppable. What could she possibly do to stop it? She didn't have her system, her Chronosword, or any semblance of control. She was powerless.

But as she sat there, trembling in the darkness, another thought emerged—one that cut through her fear like a blade.

I'm still here. The child is still here. And if she's alive, that means I still have a chance.

Her breaths steadied, and she clenched her fists. I have to stop it. I have to protect her—myself. If this is where it all started, then maybe… maybe this is where I can end it, too.

With her resolve hardening, Juno pressed herself against the wall and peeked around the corner. The reflection's silhouette was barely visible now, moving deeper into the labyrinthine corridors of the memory. Juno swallowed hard, every instinct screaming at her to stay hidden, to run in the opposite direction.

Instead, she stepped out into the open, keeping low and quiet.

She followed.