Juno's heartbeat echoed through the chamber like a war drum. The boy stood between her and the exit, arms folded behind his back like a soldier from a forgotten war.
His eyes still glowed that faint, unnatural gold.
"I'm not here to hurt you," he said softly. "Well. Not unless you touch that journal."
Juno's fingers inched away from it. "Who are you?"
"I don't remember," the boy said. "But the vault does. And that's enough."
He stepped forward, motioning to the walls around them. "You see this place? It's not a vault. Not really. It's a memory. A prison for time itself. And for those of us who tried to rewrite it."
Juno narrowed her eyes. "You're one of them… the Forgotten Runners."
The boy smiled—sadly. "What's left of one. The Council erased us. Not because we failed. But because we succeeded."
Juno felt the Divider buzz at her side. Reacting to his presence.
"What did you succeed at?"
The boy tilted his head. "At escaping the loop. At stepping outside of cause and effect. We found the truth behind the Echo War. The real reason Runners were created. Why the Registry exists."
He turned his back to her and pointed at the bleeding journal.
"And it's all in there. That's why I've been standing here… for years, maybe centuries. Guarding it. Waiting for the one who could read it without dying."
Juno's mouth went dry. "You think that's me?"
"I know it is." His smile returned, brighter this time. "Because I remember you. From before everything broke. From the first Loop."
Juno's mind reeled. "That's impossible. I wasn't—"
"You were," he said. "Just not like this."
Suddenly, the journal pulsed again—once.
And the bleeding stopped.
Lines of golden script wrote themselves across the cover.
"Juno: Phase-Key Activated."
The boy stepped aside.
"Time doesn't forget, Juno. It just waits."
And with that, the journal opened.