The wasteland stretched endlessly, its jagged edges bleeding into a kaleidoscope of fractured timelines. Lysandra walked ahead, her silver-threaded eyes scanning the horizon for threats. The air was thick with the scent of burnt copper and ozone, the remnants of the Spire's collapse clinging to her like a second skin. Behind her, Kael moved with a newfound confidence, the void's power simmering beneath his surface. His withered arm was gone now, replaced by a shadowy appendage that pulsed faintly with golden-black light.
He didn't speak, but his presence was a constant weight, a reminder of the choices they'd both made.
"You're quiet," Lysandra said, breaking the silence.
Kael smirked, the expression sharp and familiar. "You're not."
She stopped, turning to face him. "You're different. Since the void."
He shrugged, the motion casual but his eyes burning with something darker. "I'm still me. Just… more."
"More what?"
"More everything."
She didn't press further. She didn't need to. The void had changed him, and they both knew it.
---
The horizon shifted, the skyline warping as if viewed through cracked glass. A city emerged from the haze, its spires twisting into impossible shapes. It was a relic of a timeline that shouldn't exist, its architecture a blend of ancient stone and bioluminescent fungi.
"Where are we?" Lysandra asked, her threads flickering uneasily.
Kael tilted his head, his shadowed arm twitching. "Somewhere the Tapestry doesn't want us to be."
The city's gates loomed ahead, their surfaces etched with serpentine patterns that seemed to writhe in the dim light. As they approached, the air grew colder, the kind of cold that seeped into your bones and stayed there.
"Stay close," Lysandra muttered, her threads coiling around her like a shield.
Kael laughed, the sound harsh and grating. "You're the one who needs to keep up."
---
The city was a labyrinth of shifting streets and crumbling buildings, its inhabitants frozen in time. A marketplace stretched before them, its stalls filled with goods that glitched between eras: medieval pottery one moment, futuristic tech the next. The air buzzed with temporal energy, the Tapestry's influence weaker here but still present.
Lysandra's scar ached, a dull throb that matched the city's pulse. "This place… it's unstable."
"Good," Kael said, his smirk widening. "Unstable means weak. Weak means we can break it."
She shot him a look. "Or it breaks us."
Before he could retort, a figure stepped into their path.
---
The man was tall, his gray robes tattered and reeking of sulfur. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but his hands were visible—scarred and branded with the mark of the Cartography.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice a low rasp.
Kael's dagger was in his hand before the man finished speaking. "And yet, here we are."
The Cartographer didn't flinch. "This city is a sanctuary. A place where the Tapestry's reach is limited. You bring its attention with your presence."
Lysandra stepped forward, her threads flickering. "We're not here to cause trouble. We're looking for answers."
The man tilted his head, his hood shifting to reveal a mechanical eye that whirred as it focused on her. "Answers come at a price."
Kael's smirk turned predatory. "We've already paid."
---
The Cartographer led them through the city, its streets shifting with every step. The frozen inhabitants seemed to watch them, their blurred faces filled with silent accusation. Lysandra's threads lashed out instinctively, severing the temporal anomalies that reached for them, but Kael walked untouched, the void's power repelling the city's defenses.
They reached a tower at the city's center, its walls lined with gears that turned in impossible directions. The Cartographer gestured to the entrance. "Inside. But be warned—the tower feeds on memory. Touch nothing. Feel nothing. *Regret nothing.*"
Kael snorted. "Heard that before."
Lysandra's scar throbbed again, a reminder of the Labyrinth's tests. "What's inside?"
The Cartographer's mechanical eye whirred. "What you seek. And what seeks you."
---
The tower's interior was a maze of mirrors, each reflecting a different past. Lysandra avoided them, her threads coiling tighter, but Kael lingered, his shadowed arm twitching as he stared into one.
His reflection showed him kneeling at the Shattered Spire's altar, a younger girl's hand in his. Her face was blurred, but he knew who she was.
*Elyra.*
"Don't look," Lysandra warned, her voice tight.
He ignored her, stepping closer to the mirror. The reflection shifted, the girl's face coming into focus. It wasn't Elyra.
It was *Hesper*.
---
Hesper's face was sharp and angular, her eyes a piercing green that seemed to see through him. She smiled, a cruel twist of her lips that made his chest ache.
"You *remember*," the mirror whispered, its voice a cruel mimicry of hers.
He shattered it with his dagger, the glass raining down around him. "Fuck off."
Lysandra grabbed his arm, her threads coiling around him. "We need to move. Before it gets worse."
He shook her off, his eyes blazing. "It's already worse."
---
The second level of the tower was a gauntlet of sound, each step triggering a new torment:
A child's laughter (Elyra, before the plague took her).
The demon's voice (his first bargain, slick and sweet as poison).
Hesper's scream (when he'd left her to die in the Scab).
He clenched his teeth, the memories clawing at him like rats. He didn't regret them. He *couldn't*. Regret was a weakness, and weakness got you killed.
Lysandra's threads lashed out, severing the sound at its source. "Move," she said, her voice strained. "Before it gets worse."
---
The third level was the heart of the tower.
It was a vast, circular room, its walls lined with doors that pulsed like living things. At its center stood a figure, their back turned, their form shrouded in gray robes.
Kael's grip tightened on his dagger. "Who the hell are you?"
The figure turned, revealing a face that made his blood run cold.
It was *Hesper*.
---
Her green eyes locked onto his, a cruel smile twisting her lips. "You remember me," she said, her voice dripping with malice. "But do you remember what you did?"
He lunged, his dagger aimed at her throat. She caught his wrist with ease, her grip like iron.
"You left me to die," she hissed. "You chose power over me. Over *us*."
He snarled, driving his knee into her stomach. She didn't flinch.
"You think you're ruthless?" she taunted. "You think you're evil? You're nothing but a scared little boy, clinging to power because you're afraid of being powerless."
Lysandra's threads lashed out, severing Hesper's arm. She laughed, the sound echoing through the chamber.
"You can't kill me," she said, her form dissolving into smoke. "I'm you."
---
The doors around the chamber began to open, each one revealing a new nightmare:
A plague ward, filled with the dead and dying.
The Shattered Spire, its altar stained with blood.
The Scab, its hunters closing in.
Lysandra grabbed Kael's arm, her threads coiling around him. "We need to go. Now."
He shook her off, his eyes blazing with fury. "I'm not running."
"You're not winning either," she snapped. "This is what the tower does. It breaks you. It turns you against yourself."
He turned to her, his smirk returning. "Then I guess it's a good thing I'm already broken."
---
The ground beneath them began to crack, the tower's walls collapsing inward. Lysandra's threads lashed out, carving a path through the chaos, but Kael didn't follow.
He stood at the edge of the abyss, staring into the void.
"Kael!" Lysandra shouted, her voice barely audible over the tower's roar.
He didn't look back.
---
The void called to him, its whispers a siren song of power and pain. He could feel it—the Tapestry's fear, its desperation. It was afraid of him. Afraid of what he could become.
And he liked it.
He stepped into the void, the darkness swallowing him whole.
---
Lysandra's scream echoed through the tower, but it was too late.
Kael was gone.
---
#The Altered Timeline
---
In another version of reality, Hesper watched the horizon, her green eyes scanning the fractured sky. She didn't know why she felt drawn to this place, this moment. But something—or someone—was calling to her.
And she intended to find out who.
---