The boy didn't move when she turned toward him.
He stood at the edge of the playground like a misplaced shadow, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed in a way that felt rehearsed rather than natural. The swing beneath her creaked once, then fell silent, as if the whole world were waiting for her reaction.
She swallowed. "Who are you?"
He tilted his head, studying her with an expression that was almost curious — almost human.
"You can call me Eli," he said.
She frowned. "What…?"
He doesn't reply. A flicker crossed his face. Not irritation. Not surprise. Something more like… recalibration.
He stepped closer, and the air around him seemed to bend, like heat rising off asphalt. Not enough to be obvious — just enough to make her vision blur at the edges.
She gripped the swing chains tighter. "Stay back."
"I'm not here to hurt you." His voice was calm, too calm. "I'm here to guide you."
"Guide me back to the script," she said bitterly.
His smile was small and sad. "If you return willingly, there won't be consequences."
She laughed — a sharp, humorless sound. "Consequences? I've died hundreds of times. What else can you possibly do to me?"
Eli's eyes softened. "You misunderstand. The consequences aren't for you."
A chill crawled up her spine.
He took another step forward. The world dimmed with him, as if he carried a shadow that swallowed light.
"You've destabilized the cycle," he said. "Your choices ripple outward. People who were never meant to change are changing. Events that were fixed are unraveling. The timeline is… fraying."
"Good," she snapped. "Let it fall apart."
"You don't want that," he said gently. "You think you do, but you don't understand what lies outside the loop."
"And you do?"
He hesitated.
That hesitation told her everything.
"You're trapped too," she whispered.
His jaw tightened. "I am not trapped."
"You are," she insisted. "You're stuck in this loop with me. You only exist because I do. You only appear when I break the script. You're… a failsafe."
Eli's expression didn't change, but the air around him did — a subtle pulse, like a heartbeat in the atmosphere.
"You're perceptive," he said quietly. "More than you should be at this stage."
"Stage?" she echoed. "Is that what this is? A performance?"
"A structure," he corrected. "A system. A cycle designed to remain stable. You are the anchor. The constant. The fixed point."
"And you?" she asked. "What are you?"
He looked away for the first time, as if the question pained him.
"I'm what the cycle uses to correct itself," he said. "A guardian. A guide. A… boundary."
"A prison guard," she said.
His eyes snapped back to hers. "If I were your jailer, you would not be speaking to me right now."
The swing swayed beneath her, though she hadn't moved.
Eli stepped closer — close enough that she could see the faint shimmer beneath his skin, like something luminous trying to break through.
"I don't want to reset you," he said softly. "I don't want to erase what you've learned. But if you keep pushing, I won't have a choice."
She stood, heart pounding. "I'm not going back."
"You don't understand what you're risking."
"Then explain it."
He opened his mouth — then froze.
Not paused. Not glitched.
Frozen.
His eyes widened slightly, as if he were listening to something she couldn't hear. The air around him vibrated, a low hum that made her teeth ache.
Then he whispered, almost to himself, "They're watching."
Her blood ran cold. "Who?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he stepped back — one, two, three steps — each one more hurried than the last.
"I shouldn't have come this early," he murmured. "You weren't supposed to wake up yet."
"Eli—"
He looked at her with something like fear.
Not for himself.
For her.
"Run," he said.
The playground lights flickered. The shadows around the slide stretched unnaturally long. The air thickened, heavy and electric.
"Run," he repeated, voice cracking. "They're coming to reset the cycle.—"
And then he vanished.
Not disappeared.
Vanished — like a candle flame snuffed out.
The world shuddered.
The swing chains rattled violently.
And behind her, something stepped into the playground sand with a sound that did not belong to any human foot.
She didn't look back.
She ran.