Sea of Unraveling Hours

The Watcher outpost was nestled at the edge of the city, half-swallowed by creeping vines and the scars of recent reality fractures. Linh led the way, her tablet pulsing with the encrypted signal's coordinates. The early morning air was thick with anticipation as the team approached the battered entrance.

Felix scanned the perimeter, weapon at the ready. "No signs of movement. Either they're hiding, or we're the first to answer the call."

Kiran adjusted his pack, eyes scanning the shadows. "Let's hope it's the former."

Inside, the outpost was a maze of dim corridors and flickering monitors. The Watcher insignia glowed faintly on the walls, a reminder of the secret guardians who had always worked from the margins.

Arjun found the source of the signal—a secure chamber lined with ancient servers and a single, battered terminal. Linh plugged in, fingers flying over the keys. "There's a message here… and a data packet. Looks like it's meant for us."

A holographic recording flickered to life. The image was grainy, but the Watcher's voice was clear, urgent:

"To those who answer: The Severer was only the herald. New anomalies are appearing—entities we cannot classify. They are drawn to the repaired tapestry, testing its strength. We believe they seek to rewrite the weave itself. If you are hearing this, you are the last line of defense."

The message ended, replaced by a stream of data—maps, readings, and a series of cryptic symbols none of them recognized.

Felix whistled. "So, the fun never stops."

Linh's eyes widened as she decrypted the first symbol. "These… these are coordinates. But not just in space—some are in time. Whatever's coming, it's not bound by the present."

Kiran's voice was steady but tense. "We'll have to defend the tapestry across timelines."

Arjun nodded. "We need to learn from Mira's sacrifice. We're not just Weavers anymore—we're guardians of the weave, past and future."

The knot's pulse resonated in the chamber, as if echoing their resolve.

Outside, the city was waking to a new day—unaware that its fate, and perhaps the fate of all timelines, rested in the hands of four determined Weavers.

And somewhere, deep within the tapestry, Mira's light watched over them still.