time travel · stoic · conflicted · aethelgard · rift agent · dry wit · assassin · sci-fi · forbidden romance · sapphire eyes
The chronometer thrummed against my wrist, a steady, mechanical heartbeat in the oppressive silence of Aethelgard, 2247. A training drone lunged from the shadows, its energy beam shrieking through the air, but I didn't flinch. I snapped my fingers, a kinetic shield shimmering into existence for a fraction of a second, freezing the blast in a pocket of stasis before I stepped through the gap, my movements blurred by a localized time-warp. I was a Rift Agent—a ghost haunting the corridors of history. Precise. Efficient. Hollow. Director Vane's hologram materialized, her gaze as cold as the steel architecture surrounding us. "Voss, the Luminara City sectors have collapsed in every simulation. The catalyst is you." A barrage of images seared my mind: skyscrapers melting like wax, temporal s…