They came at dawn, when Luna was still sleeping.
The sky didn't darken or storm. It simply... paused. Birds froze mid-flight. Wind stopped moving. Even dust motes in the air hung suspended, as if reality itself was holding its breath.
Seraphina was nursing Luna in the rocking chair when she felt it—a pressure building in her chest, in her bones, in the space between atoms. Through their connection, she felt Luna wake suddenly, her infant consciousness spiking with recognition and something that might have been fear.
"They're here. The seven who judge. The ones who unmake."
Seven points of light appeared in the nursery, arranged in a perfect circle around mother and daughter. Each light was different—different colors, different frequencies, different ways of existing.
The first light was silver-white and seemed to exist in multiple moments simultaneously. When Seraphina looked at it, she saw past-present-future overlapping. The Timeweaver.
