Voyager Of Ages

Ethan stood before the newly opened doorway, framed by trembling light and humming energy. The mist beyond shimmered with impossible color—no longer just a passage, but a rip in the very fabric of time. The First Engineer gave him one last look, her eyes unreadable.

"You step beyond history now," she warned.

Ethan didn't hesitate. The shard pulsed in his hand, and with a deep breath, he crossed the threshold.

It was like walking through a dream inside a lightning storm. Time fractured around him, moment to moment bending, folding, collapsing in on itself. Images and voices drifted past—his mother reading him bedtime stories, Marcus shouting across a lab, Lily laughing on the university steps. Then it all shattered into silence.

When the world solidified again, Ethan stood in a place that defied logic.

The Spiral Rift.

Massive rings of broken architecture floated midair, each fragment spinning on an axis of invisible gravity. Skies above flickered between day and night, stars blinking in and out. Waterfalls flowed upward. Clock towers hung upside down. It was a realm of unfinished timelines, half-born realities, and memories unclaimed by any one world.

Ahead stood a spire—impossibly tall, its peak obscured in swirling clouds. A beacon pulsed atop it like a lighthouse across fractured seas.

Ethan began his trek across floating bridges that appeared only as he stepped onto them. The shard guided him forward, glowing brighter with every pace.

Suddenly—a flash of red. A bolt of energy hissed past his head, searing the air.

He ducked. Rolled. Drew behind a hovering slab of marble.

Another shot.

He peeked over—and froze.

Marcus.

Clad in armor that shimmered like melted mirrors, Marcus hovered effortlessly over the broken terrain. His eyes glowed faint blue.

"I warned you, Ethan," he called. "You tamper with what was meant to decay."

"You're the one distorting everything!" Ethan shouted back. "You think you're restoring time, but you're rewriting it in your image."

Marcus sneered. "Someone has to decide what's worth preserving."

He raised his weapon—something between a staff and a cannon—and fired again.

Ethan sprinted toward the next platform, ducking bursts of time-warping energy. Around him, fragments of old worlds twisted into view—an airship from a steampunk reality, a shattered cathedral of neon glass, a battlefield covered in frozen fire.

He found cover behind a fallen clockface and pulled out the shard.

"Come on," he whispered. "Show me what to do."

The shard lit up, forming a lattice of symbols in midair. Ethan pressed his palm to the projection. A ripple surged outward—and a doorway opened behind him.

Marcus paused, weapon lowered, eyes narrowing. "You've learned something."

Ethan didn't answer.

He leapt through the doorway.

Darkness.

Then—a roaring wind.

He was free-falling through a new timeline.

All around him, spiral staircases curled into nothingness, echoes of alternate lives spiraling past. He reached out, trying to catch a ledge, a branch, anything.

Then—a hand.

Someone caught him.

He hit the ground hard but survived.

He looked up.

It was Lily.

Not the Lily he remembered.

This one was older. Her face lined, her eyes steel. She wore tactical gear and carried what looked like a chronal blade strapped to her back.

"About time," she said.

Ethan blinked. "You—how—"

She pulled him to his feet. "There's no time. If Marcus is here, he's heading for the Tether. And if he gets there first, we all vanish."

Ethan swallowed hard.

Then he nodded.

They ran.