Caius ran.
Through the silent ruins of the world, past frozen echoes of a life that no longer moved. His breath came in ragged gasps, his pulse the only sound against the deafening stillness.
The First Sanctum lay beyond the city, past the edges of the known world where time itself had supposedly begun. If the whisper had led him true, then there—and only there—could he find the answer.
But as he ran, doubt gnawed at the edges of his mind.
What if there was nothing left?
What if he was chasing a ghost in a world that had already ended?
The roads that had once been lively with merchants and travelers were now graveyards of motionless figures. Caius passed knights frozen mid-patrol, merchants with gold suspended in the air between buyer and seller, a street musician forever stuck in the act of strumming a silent chord.
Their eyes were open. They should be alive.
But none of them breathed.
Caius quickened his pace. He refused to believe it. Refused to accept that this was the end.
An hour. Two. He lost track of time—ironic, given that he was the only one who still had any left.
Then, finally, the city ended.
The towering spires and frozen streets faded behind him as he stepped into the wasteland that lay beyond. A barren stretch of land, untouched by time.
The First Sanctum was close.
And then—
A sound.
Not an echo. Not a whisper. A sound.
A heartbeat.
His own? No—someone else's.
He turned sharply, scanning the emptiness. The air itself felt thick here, as though time had grown heavy. Every breath was harder, every step more difficult.
And then he saw it.
A door.
Standing alone in the middle of nothing.
No walls. No structure. Just a door—ancient and weathered, its surface etched with markings he couldn't understand.
And it was open.
Beyond it, there was light.
A warmth that pulsed, slow and steady, like the rhythm of a living thing.
Caius hesitated.
Something about the door felt wrong.
Not in the way of danger, but in the way of something that shouldn't exist.
But he had come too far to stop now.
Taking a breath, he stepped through.
And the world changed.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the silence vanished.
The world roared to life.
Wind rushed past him, the air thick with the scent of something ancient. He stumbled forward, his boots hitting grass—not stone, not sand, but a lush green field stretching endlessly beneath a golden sky.
And standing in the center of it all was a woman.
Tall. Cloaked in a flowing garment that shimmered between colors, as though refusing to settle on just one. Her face was ageless, her gaze piercing as she turned to him.
"You finally made it," she said.
Her voice rippled. Not in sound, but in time—as if it echoed through past and future alike.
Caius steadied himself. "Who are you?"
The woman tilted her head. "I have been called many things. But you may call me…" She paused, as if deciding whether to speak the name aloud. "…the Keeper."
Caius swallowed. "What is this place?"
"The heart of time itself," the Keeper said. "The last place where it still flows."
He took a slow step forward. "Then… you know what's happening?"
She nodded. "Time has stopped. You are the last one who still moves."
A chill crawled up his spine. "Why?"
The Keeper studied him for a long moment. Then she lifted a hand, and suddenly, behind her, the golden sky cracked.
Through the fissures, Caius saw glimpses of the frozen world he had left behind.
"This is not the first time this has happened," the Keeper said. "Nor will it be the last."
Caius clenched his fists. "Then tell me how to fix it."
The Keeper smiled—sadly.
"You may not like the answer."