Ren ran.

Not because he wanted to. Not because he understood what was happening. But because the alternative—the thing rising from the darkness—was worse.

The woman moved first, slicing her dagger through the air. The silver blade shimmered as it struck the shadowed figure. For a moment, it worked. The thing reeled, its form shuddering like ripples in black water. But then it surged forward again, faster this time.

Ren barely had time to duck as the alley twisted. No, not the alley. The world itself. The cobblestones beneath his feet flickered—like they were caught between two moments. For a terrifying second, he saw something else. A different street. A different city. A place he’d never been.

Then it snapped back.

"You’re hesitating!" the woman shouted.

Ren didn’t hesitate. He turned and ran.

The alley opened into the marketplace, now filled with morning crowds. Merchants shouted prices, carts rolled past, the smell of baking bread and horse dung mixed in the air. Normal.

But Ren knew better now.

The moment they stepped into the square, the woman grabbed his wrist again and wove through the crowd. "Don’t stop," she muttered under her breath. "Don’t look back."

Ren didn’t.

Not until he heard the first scream.

He risked a glance over his shoulder—and immediately wished he hadn’t.

The shadows spilled into the marketplace like ink in water. The figure from the alley was moving through the crowd, but something was wrong. People didn’t seem to notice it. They stepped aside unconsciously, their conversations never breaking, their eyes never registering the thing that stalked toward him.

But its presence was warping the world. Stall signs flickered between languages. A baker turned his head, and for a split second, his face was someone else’s. Time was bending around it.

Ren's stomach twisted.

"How are they not seeing this?" he hissed.

The woman didn’t answer. She yanked him behind a stack of barrels, forcing him low. She pressed a hand against his chest, keeping him still.

Then she whispered: "Because it doesn’t want them to."

Ren’s pulse pounded. The figure slowed, its hollow gaze sweeping the market. The shadow at its feet slithered outward, searching. Hunting.

Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, it turned and walked on.

Ren forced himself to breathe. His hands were shaking. "What—" He swallowed. "What was that?"

The woman exhaled, lowering her dagger. "A Shadowborn. A servant of Chrono."

Ren stiffened at the name.

Chrono. The same name he’d seen in the book. The same name tied to his curse.

He wet his lips. "And it was looking for me."

The woman nodded. "It can’t sense you yet—not completely. But you opened the book. You activated the watch. Now, the timeline is shifting around you, and it knows something is wrong."

Ren looked at the pocket watch in his hand. The runes glowed softly, the hands still moving backward.

"How do I stop it?" he asked.

The woman met his gaze.

"You don’t," she said. "You run."