Kael sat before the ancient mural, the artifact still warm in his hand.
He hadn't yet chosen.
Not to destroy it.
Not to bury it.
For the first time, he hesitated.
---
The Shadow spoke behind him:
— Most versions of you destroy it.
A few bury it again.
Only one… chose a third path.
Kael turned.
— Which one?
The Shadow didn't respond with words.
She placed her hand over her chest —
and her skin cracked slightly, revealing the same artifact embedded beneath.
Kael's eyes widened.
— You are that path?
The Shadow nodded slowly.
—
She knelt in front of him and held out a small blade —
not of metal, but of obsidian, ancient and ceremonial.
— Break the cycle, Kael.
Not with fear.
But with memory.
— Choose your version…
and leave it written.
---
Kael looked once more at the artifact.
He understood:
the cycle would only break
if he created a new narrative
— one where he was not just a piece of time,
but its author.
And so, he made a fourth choice.
He didn't destroy it.
He didn't hide it.
He inscribed his story…
into the very temple walls.