The keeper of time

Chapter 17: The Edge of Betrayal

Anaya's steps echoed softly through the narrow, dimly lit corridor as she followed Aryan. The palace walls felt like they were closing in around her. Every brick, every crack seemed to carry whispers of the past—secrets waiting to be unearthed. She glanced over at Aryan, his tall, imposing figure cutting through the shadows with ease, his confidence both reassuring and unnerving. His jaw was set, eyes forward, but Anaya could sense his mind was working tirelessly. There was a calm, almost deadly focus to him now that sent a chill down her spine.

The banter, the teasing—it was gone for the moment, replaced by an intensity that made her nervous. Aryan's presence had always been overwhelming, but now it was like he was slipping into the role of something more than just their leader. He had become a force, a warrior with a purpose so deeply embedded in him that nothing else mattered. Yet, behind that facade, Anaya could still feel the pull of something softer. His concern for her, the way he watched over her in silence, was undeniable.

"This is insane," she muttered under her breath as they rounded another corner, her voice echoing slightly off the stone walls.

Aryan shot her a glance, one eyebrow raised. "You think?"

She rolled her eyes. "I mean, we're literally chasing after someone who's messing with time, Aryan. We're trying to stop history from being rewritten, and we have no idea what we're even up against."

He smirked, but it was the kind of smirk that barely reached his eyes. "Sounds like just another day at work."

Anaya shook her head. "You're impossible."

"You're still here," he countered smoothly.

Before she could respond with her usual sarcastic retort, Arjun, who had been walking a few steps behind them, stepped forward, his voice cutting through the charged air. "Enough, Aryan. We don't have time for this."

Aryan's expression hardened, and for a moment, Anaya thought he was going to snap back. But instead, he simply sighed and nodded, the usual playfulness gone. "You're right. Let's focus."

The tension between Aryan and Arjun had been growing thicker ever since Aryan had revealed the true nature of their mission. Anaya could feel it like a weight pressing on her chest, an invisible line drawn between them. Arjun had always been her rock, but lately, he seemed distant, uneasy, especially around Aryan. She couldn't quite figure out why, but it worried her.

They stopped at a small, heavy wooden door, worn from centuries of use. Aryan placed a hand on the rough surface, pausing for a moment. His fingers traced the old carvings on the wood, symbols Anaya couldn't recognize but felt drawn to. She stepped closer, her heart pounding in her chest as if sensing the gravity of the moment.

"This is it," Aryan said quietly, pushing the door open with a gentle creak.

The room beyond was dark, save for the flicker of torchlight along the far wall. As they stepped inside, the smell of burning oil and incense hit her nostrils. Her eyes took a moment to adjust, and when they did, she saw it—the altar.

It was smaller than she expected, barely knee-height, made of polished stone with intricate carvings that spiraled across its surface. In the dim light, the shadows cast by the carvings seemed to move, almost as if they were alive. Anaya's stomach churned uneasily. There was something wrong about this place. It felt... cursed.

"This is where it all started," Aryan said, his voice low and almost reverent. He walked toward the altar, his eyes fixed on it like he was seeing a ghost. "The key to controlling time. This altar is the source."

Anaya stepped forward, her pulse quickening as she neared the altar. The air around it felt heavy, thick with power. She reached out hesitantly, her fingertips brushing against the cold stone. The moment she made contact, a jolt of energy shot through her body, and she gasped, pulling her hand back.

"What was that?" she whispered, eyes wide.

Aryan looked at her, his face serious. "It's connected to you now. You can feel its power, can't you?"

Anaya swallowed hard. "I... I don't know what I'm feeling. It's like... it's alive."

"It is," Aryan said softly. "And it's drawing you in. That's why we need to be careful."

Suddenly, the door to the chamber creaked open again, and Anaya's heart nearly stopped. She turned to see a figure step into the room—an older man, cloaked in dark robes, his eyes glowing with a strange, unnatural light.

"Who are you?" Aryan demanded, stepping in front of Anaya protectively, his hand instinctively moving toward the hilt of his sword.

The man smiled, a cold, calculated smile that sent shivers down Anaya's spine. "I am the guardian of this place," he said, his voice smooth and commanding. "And you, Aryan, should not be here."

Anaya's heart raced. How did this man know Aryan's name?

Aryan's grip on his sword tightened. "We're here to stop you. Whatever you're planning, it ends now."

The man laughed, a low, sinister sound that echoed through the chamber. "You think you can stop this? It's already begun. Time is shifting, and soon, this world will be mine."

Anaya felt a wave of dread wash over her. She glanced at Aryan, seeing the tension in his jaw, the fury in his eyes. For a moment, she feared what would happen next.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Aryan growled, stepping toward the man, his sword drawn.

But before Aryan could make a move, the man raised his hand, and suddenly, the room seemed to shift. The walls blurred, the floor trembled, and Anaya felt the ground slip away beneath her feet. The last thing she saw before darkness overtook her was Aryan, his hand outstretched toward her, a look of desperation on his face.

When Anaya awoke, the world was still spinning. She blinked, trying to focus, her head pounding. She was lying on the cold stone floor, the altar looming above her. Aryan was kneeling beside her, his face tight with concern.

"Anaya," he murmured, his hand gently brushing her forehead. "Are you okay?"

She nodded weakly, though her body felt like it had been run over by a truck. "What... what happened?"

Aryan's jaw clenched. "He's gone. The guardian. He used the altar's power to escape."

Anaya groaned, trying to sit up. "Did we fail?"

Aryan's eyes darkened, his hand still resting on her arm. "Not yet. But we're running out of time."

As she sat up, Arjun appeared in the doorway, his face pale. He didn't look at Aryan—his eyes were fixed solely on Anaya. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice tight with worry.

"I'm fine," she said quickly, though the lingering effects of the altar's power still buzzed through her veins. She glanced between Aryan and Arjun, sensing the growing tension once more.

Aryan stood, his eyes still on the altar, as if searching for answers. "We need to move quickly. The next step won't be easy, but we're not done yet."

Anaya stood slowly, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on her. She glanced at Arjun, who was still watching her with an intensity that made her heart ache. But when she looked at Aryan, she saw something else—something dangerous, something powerful.

Whatever was coming next, they would need each other more than ever. But she couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. The real battle was still ahead, and the lines between trust and betrayal were already starting to blur.