(Lord of Time)
The ticking was deafening.
Not the measured rhythm of a wall clock, but something deeper, older—like the pulse of the earth itself. Edward Shawn stood in a boundless void, the world around him made of shimmering glass threads, each one trembling with light.
They were timelines. Countless, infinite.
And he… he was their master.
The robe upon his shoulders was heavy with gold embroidery, its patterns shaped like spirals and turning gears. In one hand, he held an hourglass, but the sand within did not fall—it floated in place, awaiting his command. His other hand rested upon the hilt of a sword whose blade shimmered with shifting constellations.
At the far end of the void stood a woman.
She was cloaked in moonlight, her face hidden beneath a hood. Yet even without seeing her eyes, he knew them—eyes that had watched him through countless centuries.
"Edward…" Her voice trembled like the last chime of a bell. "It has to be me. You know the cost."
"No," he said, stepping forward. "It's my burden. Always has been."
The void rippled, threads of time vibrating violently as a rift tore open. On the other side was a darkness that could swallow worlds. He felt the pull of it—the inevitability. He could close it, seal it forever, but only with the price of his life… and his very existence in the timeline.
"If you do this," she whispered, "you'll be erased. I won't even remember your name."
Edward smiled faintly. "But you'll live. That's enough."
And with that, he plunged the sword into the heart of the rift. Light exploded, shattering the threads around him. His body unraveled into stardust, his name torn from history. The last thing he saw was her running toward him, too late.
---
Edward woke with a gasp.
The smell of rain filled the air. He was standing in the alley where the shop had once been—but the shop was gone. No door. No sign. Only wet cobblestones and the sound of the frozen raindrops finally falling.
His hand throbbed. Looking down, he saw a faint hourglass mark glowing just beneath the skin of his palm.
From the corner of his eye, movement—
A figure at the far end of the street. A woman, her hood drawn low. She seemed to look straight at him… and then she was gone, as if she'd stepped out of reality itself.
Edward staggered forward, heart racing. He didn't know why, but a single word burned in his mind.
"Find her…"
The clock was gone, but its echo was inside him now. And with it, something else—memories that weren't supposed to exist.
Somewhere, the threads of time were pulling him back into the labyrinth.