The Chronoseed hovered above a still world, where the surface glimmered like a flawless sheet of glass. From orbit, it resembled a pearl split open—its land divided by sharp lines and iridescent veins, as if light itself had been etched into the terrain. But the most arresting feature was the monolith at its center: a vertical mirror that stretched from ground to sky, its reflection showing not what stood before it, but what had been.
Ethan paced the bridge. "We've found it—the Mnemosynic Plane."
Lily tapped the console. "I thought it was a myth. A world that holds the true reflections of time's forgotten truths."
Marcus glanced warily at the ever-shifting mirror. "So it shows the past?"
"No," Ethan said. "It remembers it. Even the parts no one else does."
As they descended, the planet's surface rippled like water beneath their feet. The mirror loomed higher than any mountain, yet never cast a shadow. They stood before it in silence, awed.
Suddenly, the mirror shimmered—and images unfolded.
Ethan as a child, huddled in his father's workshop, surrounded by blueprints and clocks.
Lily's first lecture on temporal archaeology, her voice cracking with excitement.
Marcus, alone at a conference, clutching an unrecognized theory.
Each of them froze. The mirror wasn't just showing memories—it was selecting them.
A voice emerged from within the reflection, soft yet absolute.
"All time remembered must be reconciled. Show me your broken truth."
Ethan stepped forward. The Axis pulsed.
"I remember failing to stop Kalnor the first time," he said. "I remember letting fear stall me."
The mirror rippled, revealing an alternate version of that day—one where Kalnor triumphed, and Ethan never stood up.
"You carry the weight of what might have been," the voice said.
Lily stepped forward. "I remember when I almost quit. I doubted the work. I doubted Ethan."
Her image shimmered—an echo of her departure, a lost version of herself walking away from discovery.
Marcus finally moved, his voice rough. "I remember... wanting to outshine Ethan. I compromised integrity for pride."
The mirror didn't accuse. It revealed.
Cael walked up, expression unreadable. "I remember being a weapon. Before the Accord, before purpose."
The mirror paused.
Then, in a collective resonance, the images rewound—and the reflection changed. Instead of showing what was, it now showed what they had become.
Ethan—standing between timelines as their bridge.
Lily—holding fragments of the past with reverence and purpose.
Marcus—working beside others, not in competition.
Cael—guarding life with self-directed conviction.
"You have reconciled remembrance with reality," the voice said. "Then let the mirror rest."
The monolith shimmered—and cracked, its surface blooming with golden fissures. Light spilled out in radiant waves, rising into the sky like fireflies ascending eternity.
The Mnemosynic Plane pulsed once more, then fell silent. The mirror—now a sculpture of memory, inert and complete.
Back aboard the Chronoseed, the crew sat in rare silence.
"No matter how far we travel," Lily whispered, "our past travels with us."
"And now," Ethan said, "it travels lighter."