The Time Capsule

Epilogue.

The swings blew leisurely in the wind. Windchimes could be heard in the distance, along with the faint sound of someone breathing. Nadia Wolfe sat perched upon one of the swings, her breaths picking up when her anxiety increased.
It had been several months since the murder of Roman Adair, and she had been put in the time loop. Why, you might ask? Cyrus claimed that Nadia had tried to kill him and had murdered the Keeper of Time in cold blood. So, the High Council had decided to put her back in the time loop to wait and figure out what to do with her. Since Cyrus was a Council member, and no one had seen what had happened in the room that day, there were no witnesses to what ACTUALLY happened.
‘At least I got a good slash in on his face.’ Nadia thought bitterly. Anxiety was starting to take over, even though she had been completely fine the past few months while stuck in the loop. The claws of terror and teeth of regret ripped open her barely healed figurative wound. ‘I could have saved him if I had just gotten up and… and… maybe I could have used my powers and summoned enough strength on my own to defeat Cyrus. Roman is dead. He’s not… he’s not coming back.’
Tears filled her eyes, the pain in her chest slowly worsened. She bent over on the swing, raking her hands through her hair. It felt like too much to bear. No one was coming for her. She was alone. It was almost funny, really. The fact that she fought so hard to escape the time loop, only to end straight back in it.
Roman was dead. Rosamund was dead. The High Council thought she had killed the Keeper of Time and hurt Cyrus. Fate was dead. She had no way out, and no friends. Only herself and her mind, which was beginning to quickly unravel at the seams.
Her mind taunted her: ‘You’re weak. You’re useless. You’re nothing. You don’t do anything yourself. All you do is depend on others. Your powers are too hard for you to handle.’ Violent sobs wracked her body, an overwhelming sense of failure enveloping her entire being.
And then… she thought she heard something fluttering to the ground. Or did she? She could’ve just imagined it. Looking up, she quickly realized that her eyes were too blurry for her to see anything. Nadia wiped her eyes, trying to compose herself.
She stood up, walking over to where she had heard the sound: The seesaw. On the seat of the contraption lay a small note with familiar handwriting on it. Nadia gasped, picking it up. ‘How? I thought he-’ The note’s message was clear. It said, ‘Find me.’