The Divider rested against the table, silent but not still. Beneath its surface, tiny fractures pulsed with fading gold light—wounds from the battle with the Chronodebt that had not fully healed.
Juno sat at the far end of the briefing chamber, eyes locked on the crackled readout hovering above the Tockbox: CHRONO-DEBT: CONTAINED.
Yet the satisfaction was missing.
They had won. Technically.
But victory didn't feel like a finish line—it felt like a crack in the dam.
"I thought this would bring some kind of peace," she muttered.
Idris leaned against the wall beside her, arms crossed, expression unreadable. "The thing about peace? It never lasts. Especially in timelines like ours."
Milo entered, tossing a packet onto the table. "Decrypted part of the message we picked up from the vault. It's… older than anything in the Council's records. Like, pre-registry old."
He tapped a panel, and a phrase blinked to life on the holo-display:
"The first Runners didn't disappear. They were erased."
Silence settled over the room.
Juno's gaze drifted back to the Divider. It hadn't responded since the Vault opened. Not even a pulse.
And yet deep inside her, a pressure was building. Like the seconds themselves were waiting for something.
She reached into her coat and pulled out the journal they'd taken from the Vault. Seth Vire's name was scrawled across the cover.
She hadn't opened it yet.
Not out of fear.
But because she knew: the moment she did, there'd be no turning back.
Outside, the city ticked on, unaware of the fractures beneath its feet. But Juno could hear them now—subtle, splintering echoes between seconds.
The sound of something ancient stirring.
Something that time had tried and failed to bury.