The Tockbox's chamber was quiet, save for the steady hum of ancient machinery and the soft flicker of temporal data streams. Juno sat before the Chrono-Analyzer, the device designed to probe her fragmented memories.
"Ready?" Idris asked, voice low but steady.
Juno nodded. The Divider lay beside her, silent but watchful.
As the machine whirred to life, Juno felt a pull deep within her mind—a twisting, turning sensation as timelines peeled back like layers of a shattered mirror.
Suddenly, a vivid scene bloomed:
A child, no older than seven, stood beneath a towering clock tower. The air buzzed with electricity and the faint shimmer of time slipping away. A figure, cloaked and faceless, reached out, touching the child's forehead.
"Remember this moment," the voice whispered, both distant and near.
The child's eyes glowed briefly, and then everything blurred.
Juno gasped, breaking the connection.
"That was… me," she whispered. "But who was that figure?"
Idris studied the readings. "A temporal guide, perhaps. Or a warning planted in your past to prepare you."
Milo frowned. "If it's a warning, what was it about?"
Juno's gaze hardened. "That I'm more tied to time than I realized. That my debt isn't just about the moments I've touched but something deeper, something I can't yet see."
The room dimmed as the data streams pulsed in rhythm with her racing heart.
"Whatever lies ahead," Milo said quietly, "we'll face it, one fractured second at a time."
Juno picked up the Divider, the weight of time settling on her shoulders like a mantle.
The future was uncertain.
But she was ready to run into it.