The cavern's flickering solar lamps cast jagged shadows on the survivors' faces, their eyes hollow with years of fear. Tylor sat on a crate, Amaira curled against his side, her small hands clutching the edge of his jacket. Kayla stood nearby, her fingers tracing the leather-bound journal, her green eyes distant as if still seeing the violet sky above. The explosion's echo lingered in Tylor's ears, Lila's warning—The Chronarch's enforcers—tightening his chest. The air smelled of damp earth and desperation, a stark contrast to the warmth of their kitchen just hours ago in 2025.
Lila crouched by a battered radio, her scarred cheek twitching as static crackled. "They're circling," she muttered, her voice low but sharp. "Enforcers don't give up easy." She glanced at Tylor, her gray eyes narrowing. "You three brought heat. Start talking. Why're you here?"
Tylor hesitated, the journal's weight in Kayla's hands a reminder of secrets he barely understood. Amaira's gaze flicked to him, her hazel eyes steady despite her trembling. "We're looking for answers," he said finally, his voice rough. "About the Chronos Collective. About… this." He gestured to the cavern, the survivors, the fractured world beyond.
Lila's smirk faded, replaced by a flicker of recognition. She pulled a pendant from under her jacket—a silver disc etched with a spiral symbol, identical to one in the journal's diagrams. Amaira gasped, pointing. "That's in Mom's book!" she said, her voice cutting through the cavern's murmurs.
The survivors stirred, their whispers sharp. A tall man with a grizzled beard—Elias, the camp leader—stepped forward, his eyes hard but curious. "The Collective's a ghost story," he said, his voice gravelly. "Bunch of scientists who played god with time and broke the world. You saying you're tied to them?"
Kayla's jaw tightened, her fingers gripping the journal. "We found this," she said, holding it up. "It belonged to Tylor's mom. She was one of them. It talks about temporal fractures, a machine… and something called a stabilizer." Her voice wavered, her dreams flooding back—the crumbling city, a figure watching her under a violet sky. "I've seen this place before. In my head. And the Chronarch… his face feels familiar."
Elias's gaze sharpened, but before he could speak, the radio blared, a cold voice cutting through: "All trespassers will be erased. Surrender to the Chronarch's order." The survivors froze, some grabbing makeshift weapons—pipes, sharpened rebar. Lila cursed, slinging a battered rifle over her shoulder. "They've locked our signal. We've got minutes."
Tylor's heart raced, his mind flashing to Amaira's disappearance two years ago—his failure to protect her. He wouldn't let it happen again. "We need to move," he said, pulling Amaira closer. But she slipped from his grasp, darting to a crate where she'd hidden a torn journal page during the chaos. "Not yet," she said, her voice fierce as she tucked it into her pocket. "It's important."
Elias barked orders, survivors scrambling to pack supplies. He turned to Tylor, his expression grim. "The Chronarch's got a device—a temporal stabilizer. He uses it to control the fractures, erase anyone who steps out of line. Whole camps vanish, like they never were. If you've got answers in that book, you're our best shot."
Kayla's eyes widened, her breath catching. "The stabilizer's in the journal," she said, flipping to a diagram of a glowing orb. "It's supposed to close fractures, not control them." Her voice dropped, almost a whisper. "But in my dreams, he's holding it. The Chronarch. And his face… it's like I know him."
Tylor's stomach twisted, a cold dread settling in. The Chronarch's name felt like a splinter in his mind, too close to the guilt he'd carried since losing Amaira. "What do you see in his face?" he asked, his voice barely steady.
Kayla met his gaze, her eyes haunted. "It's blurry, but… it's like looking at you, Tylor. Older, colder, but you." Her words hit like a punch, and Amaira's hand tightened on his, her small frame trembling.
"That's impossible," Tylor said, but doubt gnawed at him. The time machine, his mother's work, their jump—had they set this future in motion? Lila grabbed their arms, pulling them toward a tunnel. "Save the existential crisis," she snapped. "Enforcers are here."
As they ran, the cavern shaking with distant blasts, Tylor's mind raced. The Chronos Collective's symbol on Lila's pendant, Kayla's dreams, the stabilizer's twisted purpose—it all pointed to a truth he wasn't ready to face. Amaira clutched the hidden journal page, her eyes fierce with determination. Kayla's hand brushed his, a fleeting anchor in the chaos. Whatever the Chronarch was, whoever he was, Tylor knew one thing: he'd protect his family, no matter the cost.