The words echoed in Kaen's mind, their presence as unsettling as the silence that followed. The forest around him felt suffocating, the dense trees casting shadows that seemed to stretch and twist, hiding secrets. His heart pounded in his chest as he wiped the sweat from his brow, the weight of the sword still heavy in his hands.

  “Nicely done, Kaen. You have learned quickly.”

  The voice was calm, almost approving, but Kaen wasn’t fooled. There was something deeper in its tone, something older—something not entirely human. His grip on the sword tightened, as if the weapon could somehow protect him from the mystery that surrounded him.

  "Who are you?" Kaen’s voice cracked, more from exhaustion than fear. But he was afraid. He had no choice but to admit it. His entire world had been turned upside down in the span of a few hours, and now this voice, this strange force, was guiding him through it all.

  For a long moment, there was no answer. Only the wind rustling the leaves, the crackling of distant flames that still burned in the village ruins. It felt as though the entire world was holding its breath.

  Then, just as Kaen was about to lose his nerve, the voice returned, clearer this time, though it still lacked a form.

  "I am... not something you can understand, not yet." The voice seemed to shift, as though it were contemplating its next words carefully. "But know this, Kaen—you are not alone. Not anymore."

  The weight of those words sent a chill down Kaen’s spine. Not alone? He had never felt more alone in his life, standing amidst the ruins of his village, holding a weapon that felt like both a blessing and a curse.

  “I don’t want to be part of whatever this is,” Kaen spat, his frustration boiling over. "I don’t understand what’s happening. You keep talking about threads and time, but I’m just trying to survive!"

  The voice was silent for a heartbeat, and Kaen’s anger simmered beneath the surface, threatening to explode. But then, just as quickly, the voice returned—softer, more measured.

  “Survival is only the beginning, Kaen. But it is not your only purpose.”

  Kaen clenched his fists. “What does that even mean?”

  The voice’s tone shifted again, a faint crackle of energy in the air. "The thread you carry is woven through time itself, Kaen. The sword you hold... it is not merely a weapon. It is a key. A key to a world that has been lost, a world that is returning."

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  Kaen’s eyes darted around the clearing, but he saw nothing, just the endless stretch of trees and the smoke rising in the distance. “A world that’s returning?” he muttered, feeling like the ground beneath his feet was shifting.

  “Yes. The fabric of time is unraveling, and you are the only one who can stitch it back together. The sword has chosen you. You are its bearer now.” The voice paused. "The weight of the past, the future—it all rests on your shoulders, Kaen. You must understand your purpose. Before it is too late."

  Kaen’s knees buckled as the words hit him like a tidal wave, drowning him in a sea of uncertainty. “But I don’t know how!” he shouted, his voice cracking under the strain. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t even know who I am anymore!”

  He looked down at the sword in his hand, its blade glowing softly in the dim light. It had saved him, but it was also the cause of his confusion. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, with nothing but darkness beneath him. No guide. No answers.

  The voice sighed, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to carry the weight of centuries. "Then you will learn. Time is not something that can be rushed, Kaen. You must understand the rules before you can break them."

  “Rules?” Kaen snapped, desperation creeping into his voice. “What rules? Everything I thought I knew is gone! I don’t know who’s chasing me, what this sword does, or how to stop it from tearing me apart! I just... I just want it to make sense.”

  A figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into the clearing like a ghost from a forgotten past. The sudden movement startled Kaen, and he drew the sword instinctively, pointing it toward the newcomer.

  The figure was tall, their face hidden beneath a hood that shadowed their features. Cloaked in deep black, their presence was commanding yet strangely serene. The air around them seemed to shimmer, like they were both part of the world and completely apart from it at the same time.

  “I see you have met our voice,” the figure said, their voice smooth and unwavering. “But I am not just a voice, Kaen. I am someone who once walked the path you now find yourself on. And I have come to help you.”

  Kaen hesitated, his sword still raised. "Who are you?"

  The figure lowered their hood, revealing a face that was both familiar and foreign, as though Kaen had seen it in a dream—or a memory. A woman, her eyes bright with an otherworldly knowledge. Her features were sharp, regal even, yet there was something haunting about her, something that made Kaen feel like he was staring at a reflection of a past life.

  “I am Lysandra,” she said, her voice full of quiet authority. “And I was once like you. The bearer of the thread.”

  Kaen’s heart skipped a beat. The bearer of the thread. Was she like him? Was she part of the mystery that was consuming him?

  “Listen to me, Kaen,” Lysandra continued, her gaze piercing. “You are the last of us. The last of the bearers. But you are not the only one to carry the weight of this world’s unraveling. There are others, others who will seek to stop you. To use the sword for their own purposes.”

  Kaen swallowed hard. “Stop me? From what?”

  Lysandra’s expression softened, but the sadness in her eyes was undeniable. “From saving time itself.”