Thin lines of cracks appeared on the horizon, spreading like a spider’s web, breaking the sky into fragments. Their edges were darker than any shadow in the Eternal Garden, and from these openings, nothing poured out—no darkness, no light—only emptiness.
Emiren stood before this sight, his fingers trembling faintly. He felt as though taking one step forward would dissolve him into this emptiness, erasing him from all streams of time.
— They are already here, — he whispered.
The Keepers remained silent, watching the fractures in reality. Their eyes, usually radiating cold indifference, now carried something resembling concern.
Ardalys stood beside him, his fists clenched, and his gaze sharp as a blade.
— What is this? — he asked.
One of the Keepers, who had been standing closest, finally spoke:
— These are traces of their arrival.
Emiren met his gaze.
— Who?
The air around them grew heavy, as though time itself was pressing down on them.
— Those who destroy time, — the Keeper answered.
Emiren’s breath caught in his chest.
— You said they felt the weakness, — he said, trying to keep his voice steady. — But what does that mean?
Another Keeper, standing slightly to the side, slowly raised his hand and pointed toward the cracks.
— Time is a fabric woven by the actions of creators. Every intervention alters it, but when balance is disturbed, places appear where the fabric tears.
— And those who destroy time… come through these rifts?
The Keepers nodded in unison.
— They do not create. They do not change. They only destroy.
Emiren sighed.
— So they are our enemies?
— They are the consequence, — one of the Keepers replied.
But before anyone could ask another question, something changed.
The air trembled.
The sky above the cracks shuddered as if it were a living organism, and then, from the emptiness, figures emerged.
They were unlike any creature Emiren had seen.
Their bodies were made of black mist, constantly shifting, as though they themselves could not decide what they wanted to be. Some resembled humans, but their features were blurry. Others looked like predatory beasts, trembling with their own instability.
But the worst part was not how they looked.
The worst part was the feeling they evoked.
It was as if the world itself wanted to turn away from them, cast them back into nothingness.
— They should not exist, — Ardalys whispered.
And then they spoke.
— You… created… the rifts.
The voices did not sound human. They were deep, slithering, as though the words had passed through thousands of shattered mirrors before reaching their ears.
— You opened the way.
Emiren felt a chill deep inside him.
These creatures had not simply come here.
They were blaming him.
— This was not our intention, — he said, forcing his voice to sound calm.
The shadowy figures that floated in the air continued to change shape.
— Consequences… have no intentions. They simply are.
Ardalys tightened his grip on the sword that had appeared in his hands.
— If you’ve come to destroy, what are you waiting for?
The shadowy beings froze.
— We have come… to consume… what is destroyed.
They did not attack. They waited.
Emiren suddenly realized that they were not acting randomly.
They had come to take what had become unstable.
— They want to consume the rifts, — he said, his voice echoing through the space.
The Keepers remained silent.
Emiren looked at them.
— Did you know they would come?
No answer.
But he already knew the truth.
Those who destroy time had always come.
It was just that no one had ever disturbed the balance so much that they manifested here.
And if they were here — it meant the world was no longer the same as before.
— We cannot allow them to take more than what is necessary, — he said.
The shadowy beings stirred.
— We take… what must… vanish.
But who decides what must vanish?
Emiren understood: they had come for more than just the rifts.
They had come for him.