The moment Ethan stepped back into Ashen, the air felt heavier. It wasn't just the looming stormclouds casting shadows over the fortified village or the tired expressions on the villagers' faces, it was something deeper. Something wrong.
He felt it in the rhythm of footsteps that didn't match their owners. In the hushed tones of conversations that went silent when he passed. In the subtle way Mira's hand lingered on her sword when she looked at him.
He had returned from the Tree of Realms as a different man, a Keeper of the Seed, its pulse now tethered to his very soul. But Avalon wasn't waiting for a savior. It was waiting to see who would survive.
And someone or something was already working from the inside to make sure they didn't. Lyra met Ethan at the main gates, her face grim.
"You're back," she said.
"I am," Ethan replied. "What happened?"
"Infiltration," she said simply. "We found a body in the well. Poisoned. A woman went missing from the outer ring. No sign of forced entry. And Mira thinks someone's been tampering with the supply logs."
"Saboteur?"
Lyra nodded. "Or worse. A shapeshifter. Someone who can take faces. Memories. Someone who's already one of us."
Ethan's stomach turned.
"Has Mira confirmed it?"
"She's running her own investigation," Lyra said. "But she doesn't trust anyone right now. Not even herself."
That night, Ethan stood atop the village walls, watching the torches flicker in the wind. The Seed pulsed faintly in his chest, like a second heartbeat. It had been like this since he touched it ever since the Tree showed him the infinite branches of time.
But now… now he wondered if he could use it.
Not just to see possibilities. But to see truth. He focused. Let his breathing slow. The world blurred for a second, and then shifted.
Every person below was moving—living, breathing but there were threads around them. Some glowed with a clean golden hue pure, honest timelines. But one thread flickered like static, dark and jagged.
It led to a man carrying crates through the inner courtyard. One of the supply handlers.
"Found you," Ethan muttered.
He jumped down from the wall and followed. Ethan confronted the man near the storage barn. Tavren was nearby and came at Ethan's call, sword in hand.
"You," Ethan said to the man. "What's your name?"
The man blinked. "Derren. I've worked here for months—ask Mira."
Ethan stepped closer. "Funny, I don't remember seeing you. And I remember everything now."
The man's eyes flickered. For a second, his irises turned black.
Tavren drew his sword. "Shifter!"
But it was already too late. Derren dropped the crate and lunged forward, face warping and body twisting into a sinewy, unnatural form. He moved like liquid shadow, sliding across the ground.
Tavren swung, but the thing dodged and grabbed Ethan by the throat. Ethan gasped then focused. He closed his eyes, reached inward to the Seed. The world slowed. He saw five seconds ahead.
Tavren swinging again. The shifter twisting. A dagger flying toward Lyra from the rooftop. Another one? A second shifter. Time snapped back into motion.
"Lyra!" Ethan shouted, ducking the attack.
"Behind you!"
Lyra spun just in time to deflect a dagger aimed at her back. Another figure cloaked in shadows hissed and darted toward the alley but Lyra was faster. Her blade caught the creature mid-sprint, and it collapsed, shrieking.
Ethan, coughing, struck the first shifter with a burst of raw force. Not magic—time energy, a ripple that knocked the creature back.
Tavren drove his sword through it.
The village rang with the sound of the alarm bell. Mira arrived moments later, already covered in blood from a fight at the western wall.
"They've been planning this," she growled. "I caught another sneaking into the barracks. That's three in one night."
"Three that we know of," Ethan said. "There could be more."
He turned to Lyra. "We need to run full security sweeps. No one enters or leaves Ashen without a time mark."
Lyra blinked. "A what?"
Ethan held up a small stone. It glowed with the same faint gold as the seed.
"I can tag someone's presence across the timeline. If someone tries to shift into them… the thread breaks."
Lyra stared. "That's going to take time."
Ethan nodded. "Then we better start now."
Far from Ashen, in a ruined keep deep in the black marshes, Vaelen Drakar stood before a mirror that showed not reflection—but possibility.
He watched Ethan using the seed. He watched Ashen grow stronger. And he smiled.
"So," he whispered. "The boy's finally become a threat."
A hooded figure stepped forward behind him. "Shall I send the Hounds?"
"No," Vaelen said. "Let the boy think he's winning. Let him taste the illusion of control. And when the Tree blooms…"
He turned. "We cut it down."