The light of the Eternal Garden was slowly fading, losing its brightness like a dying torch that could no longer maintain the illusion of life. The air grew heavy, filled with whispers of ancient voices that had left their marks in the shards of reality. And there they stood on the edge of the unknown, before them stretched a world that no longer had clear boundaries.
Emiren felt the weight of time pressing on his chest, as if reality itself were beginning to disintegrate, dissolving like paint on a rainy window. His gaze turned to the Silver Tree, which now resembled nothing more than the remnants of a long-forgotten dream. He extended his hand toward a shard of its bark, still warm to the touch, and once again felt that faint spark — a trace of vital energy.
“We must find the root,” he said quietly, as though speaking to time itself, to that fluid which filled the voids between worlds.
The Voidwalker stood beside him, his eyes fixed on the fragments, on the dark voids between the pieces of reality.
“But where do we search?” His voice was quiet yet firm, as though the question itself was a test.
Answering was not easy. Eternity was beginning to collapse, and with it, all the anchors that had once given hope for restoration.
“We must return to the beginning,” Emiren said, repeatedly reviewing images of fragments he’d seen before. “We need to find the place where time hasn’t yet lost its shape, where there still exists… the root.”
The winds began to stir once more around them, and this was not just a natural phenomenon. It was the reverberation of the ruptures in time. The wind carried not only cold but forgotten ideas, lost events, worlds that had never been.
“They are coming,” whispered Flamen, his hands beginning to glow.
He felt the approach of a new shadow, a new threat, one that sought to engulf everything.
The shadows grew clearer, and with each movement, reality fractured even further, as though the destruction of time was gathering speed.
“How do we stop this?” asked the Watery, his voice unsure but full of deep fear.
Emiren closed his eyes. His mind slid between possible realities, searching for the smallest chance. Finally, he paused on one memory that pierced his soul like lightning.
“We must find the heart. Only then can we influence time.”
All three turned their gaze toward the dark, hazy territory stretching before them.
“Do you know where this heart is?” asked Flamen, raising his hand. His fire flared brighter.
“I know,” said Emiren. “But we must go there together. Without each other’s consent, we won’t be able to do this.”
And so, the three of them began moving toward the dark zone, feeling every step lead into the unknown. Each of them held hope, but also fear — the fear that they might never return.
It was the beginning of the end, or the end of the beginning. And only one choice could change everything.