Ren had made many bad decisions in his life.

Walking deeper into the reality-warping forest? Easily in the top three.

The trees weren’t just wrong—they were alive in ways they shouldn’t be. Their bark twisted when you weren’t looking, shifting into faces that whispered without mouths. The ground wasn’t solid, even though it looked like dirt. Sometimes, Ren’s foot would sink an inch lower than expected, as if he had stepped through a moment that hadn’t fully formed yet.

And the worst part?

The sky was broken.

Not in an obvious way. The sun still shone, the clouds still moved—but every so often, something glitched. A bird would take off from a branch, and Ren would see it still sitting there, seconds out of sync with itself. A gust of wind would pass through, but the trees wouldn’t sway until moments later.

Keldrin muttered to himself, marking the bark of a tree with chalk. "Time’s looping in fragments. This place isn’t just old—it’s stuck."

Ren didn’t love the sound of that. "Stuck how?"

Keldrin finished his mark, only to frown as it vanished, erased as if it had never been. He slowly turned to Ren, pale. "You don’t want to know."

"Too late."

Mira scanned the shadows, daggers ready. "Anything watching us?"

Keldrin shook his head. "No, but—"

A voice interrupted him.

Not a whisper. Not the wind.

A real voice.

"Help me."

Ren froze.

The others did too. Mira’s grip tightened on her weapons. "That didn’t come from you, did it?"

Ren wished he could say yes.

"Please…"

The voice was close. Desperate.

Ren turned toward the sound—then saw them.

A figure stood just ahead, half-hidden in the warped trees. Their form flickered, as if not fully anchored to the present. They wore ragged robes, their face shifting strangely, features blurring and reforming.

Mira took a step back. "Ren, don’t."

But Ren was already moving.

The moment he stepped closer, the figure snapped toward him.

Their eyes locked.

And suddenly—

The world shattered.

Ren wasn’t in the forest anymore.

He was somewhere else.

A ruined hall stretched before him, stone arches cracked and crumbling. Fires burned in floating sconces, their flames flickering backward. The air smelled of dust and something older.

And at the end of the hall—

A throne.

Someone sat upon it.

No, not someone.

Something.

Ren tried to move—but his body wasn’t his to control. He was watching this moment. A memory? A vision? He didn’t know.

The figure on the throne lifted their hand. A pocket watch gleamed in their grasp.

Ren recognized it.

It was his.

The figure spoke, their voice echoing like falling sand.

"The hour is near."

Then—

Ren snapped back into the forest.

He stumbled, gasping for breath.

The flickering figure was gone.

Keldrin and Mira stared at him.

"You were frozen," Keldrin said. "For almost a full minute."

Mira scowled. "What did you see?"

Ren clutched the watch in his pocket, still warm.

"A warning," he murmured. "And a throne."

The forest remained silent.

But Ren knew now—

They weren’t just wandering blind.

They were heading somewhere.

And something was waiting for them.