Part : The Memory Forge

The ancient workshop beneath the Clocktower had not been used in centuries. Dust coated its brass walls and forgotten gears, but as Lyn placed the Chrono-Seed into its cradle, the air shimmered with awakening.

“This is where the Keepers once shaped memory into bridges,” Du Hao murmured. “A way to reach minds across time without crossing blades.”

Lyn touched a lever. A hum of resonance rose from deep below—echoes of every timeline they had ever altered.

“To confront Calren like this…” she said, “we must walk through his truth. Not ours.”

They worked in silence, weaving fragments gathered from the Seed—snapshots of Calren’s childhood, his devotion to Du Hao, his agony when the rebellion fell. Each memory was fragile, raw. Some were stained by betrayal. Others by hope.

“This one,” Du Hao said, holding a memory orb that pulsed with sorrow. “The moment I left him behind. We need it.”

Lyn hesitated. “It could destroy him. Or… bring him back.”

They placed it into the core.

As the Memory Forge spun to life, time warped within the chamber. The air thickened. Colors bled like oil across glass.

Lyn stepped into the projection first—and found herself walking through Calren’s mind.

She was beside him as a child, staring up at the stars.

She was beside him as he bled in the ruins, whispering, “You still matter.”

She was beside him as the Tower rejected him, and Du Hao said nothing.

Each step carved a thread—a bridge of memory made not from persuasion, but from truth.

Du Hao entered next.

He found the words he had never said.

“I feared your power because I saw my own in it.”

He placed that truth like a seed into Calren’s fractured world.

Together, they stepped back.

The Memory Forge burned gold—then flared into silence.

Their path was ready.

If Calren entered the Tower, these memories would greet him.

Not as weapons.

But as mirrors.