The Price of Time

Clea’s heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing like the ticking of a clock. The creature on the pedestal had ceased its writhing for a moment, but its presence still loomed, oppressive and unbearable. The very air felt alive with its hunger, as if it was aware of Clea’s thoughts, of her very soul.



She could feel it. The pull.



It was more than just the promise of power—it was familiarity. The creature knew her. It knew what she wanted, what she had always wanted: control. Control over her fate, over the choices that had always seemed to slip through her fingers like water.



"Do you feel it?" The Keeper’s voice was a rasp in the silence, pulling her from her spiraling thoughts. "It knows you, Clea. It has seen you, even before you took the shard. And it knows your desire. Your hunger for something more."



Clea shook her head, trying to block out the voice that echoed inside her mind. "No," she whispered to herself. "I won’t… I can’t let it control me. I won’t let it rewrite everything."



But as the Keeper’s words lingered in the air, the reality of what she was facing sank in. The creature could undo everything she had ever known, shape the world as it saw fit. And yet, in that moment, something within her began to unravel, a part of her mind whispering that this might not be a curse, but an opportunity.



The Keeper was watching her closely, his eyes unblinking. "The price of time," he murmured, as if to himself. "You can’t change fate without paying for it."



“What does that mean?” Clea asked, her voice barely audible. Her legs felt weak, the weight of the situation bearing down on her like an anvil.



The Keeper stepped closer to her, his shadow stretching across the glowing floor, dark and jagged. "To control time is to break it. To bend fate is to break it. Nothing comes without consequence, Clea. Even now, as the creature stirs, you have already changed the course of things."



Clea looked at the pedestal again. The creature’s shadowy form was still, but its gaze was fixed on her. It felt as if it were trying to speak to her, trying to reach inside her, to whisper promises she couldn’t fully understand.



"You broke the seal," the Keeper continued, his voice tight with something that almost sounded like regret. "And by doing so, you have unleashed not only the creature, but also the truth of your own future. The tower doesn’t just hold the creature—it holds you, too. Your destiny has always been tied to this place. You cannot separate your fate from what lies within these walls."



Clea’s breath caught in her throat. "What are you saying?"



The Keeper hesitated for a long moment, his dark eyes flickering with the weight of knowledge. "You’ve already seen the future, haven’t you?" His voice was low and filled with an unsettling understanding. "The dreams. The fire. The scream. The hand."



Clea’s blood ran cold. "How do you know about that?"



"I’ve seen them too. The glass allows us to see the future, but only fragments. It shows us the paths we’re meant to walk, the fates that are already set in motion." He paused, his gaze flicking to the creature on the pedestal. "But the creature—it sees everything. It can change the path, alter time, rewrite events. And you, Clea, you have become its conduit. You are bound to it now."



Clea’s mind spun. She felt trapped—caught in a web of time, fate, and power, and every twist of the thread pulled her deeper into something she couldn’t escape.



"What happens if I destroy the creature?" Clea asked, her voice hollow, desperate. "What happens to me?"



The Keeper’s eyes softened, but only for a moment. "If you destroy the creature, you destroy the tower—and you destroy the flow of time itself. But there’s a price. A terrible price. You won’t just lose yourself, Clea. You’ll lose everything. Your memories. Your past. Your future."



Clea staggered back, the words hitting her like a physical blow. "No. You’re lying. There has to be another way."



The Keeper shook his head slowly, the deep sorrow in his eyes reflecting something ancient. "There is no other way. Time can’t be unraveled without consequence. The creature has already made its mark on you. Your very existence is tied to this moment. To its power."



A cold silence fell between them. Clea turned away from the Keeper, her mind racing. The chamber around her was a blur, the walls closing in as she tried to process everything she’d learned. Everything that had been stolen from her.



The creature flickered, the shadows around it growing deeper, more tangible. It was calling her again—its voice like a thousand whispers, all speaking at once. A promise. A warning.



Clea’s fingers tightened around the shard in her pocket. It was warm, almost burning now, as if it had become part of her body, part of her soul.



And then, the visions returned. The fire. The screams. Her own hand, reaching into the flames. But this time, something was different. The fire wasn’t just consuming a city—it was consuming her. The world around her was crumbling. She was standing at the center of it, watching it all fall apart.



"Your fate has already been written," the Keeper’s voice cut through her thoughts, a sharp, painful truth. "The creature will either control you, or you will destroy it, and in doing so, destroy everything that exists. Time is a fragile thing. You can’t undo what has already been done. But you can choose how it ends."



Clea’s heart thundered in her chest. She was no longer sure what was real, what was part of the creature’s influence, and what was her own desire. The shard in her pocket was burning now, and the creature was staring at her with an intensity that felt like it was ripping through her soul.



Could she really destroy it? Could she risk everything, even herself, to stop it from unmaking the world?



But at what cost?



She stepped forward, the warmth of the shard growing hotter with each step, until it was nearly unbearable. The creature seemed to be watching her every movement, as though waiting for her to make her decision.



Clea closed her eyes.



Time. Fate.



And the price of everything she was about to do.