I Became the Timekeeper: Juno and the Minutes of her Shattered Deaths

"Time is a merciless keeper of secrets, binding memories to shadows and leaving echoes in the void. What we remember shapes us; what we forget devours us. And in the end, even the most fleeting moment can last forever—if we dare to face it."

---

The air inside the ruined temple was heavy, weighted by the echo of the song that Juno couldn't stop herself from humming. Her hands trembled as she crouched in the shadow of a shattered pillar, tears streaking down her cheeks and mingling with the faint trickle of blood from her eyes. Her reflection prowled the darkness, a looming predator wielding the Chronosword. But even her terror couldn't suppress the melody clawing its way from her memory.

It wasn't just a song—it was the song. The one that had haunted her dreams, the one she had sung as a child, alone in her cradle of obsidian while cloaked figures watched.

She pressed her hands to her temples, trying to drown it out. But it only grew louder, spilling from her lips in jagged whispers.

"Stop," she begged herself. "Don't sing. Don't—"

But the words tumbled out unbidden, not her own, not anymore.

Juno's mind fractured into memories she didn't know she had.

She was a baby again, barely old enough to understand the world, but already aware that it was wrong. A crib of obsidian cradled her tiny frame, its runes pulsating in rhythmic sync with the eerie lullaby.

The cultists, the Children of the Hourglass, chanted in unison, their hooded forms swaying like reeds in a storm. Their voices blended into a single, sinister hymn, each word twisting reality around her.

The cradle was no ordinary place to rest—it was an anchor, binding her to the Aspect of Time. She was their chosen vessel, the Harbinger of Eternal Change, and they believed the song would shape her soul into a conduit.

They sang to her not out of love but as an act of worship. The lullaby was soft and rhythmic, yet tinged with malice, as if the notes themselves carried curses. And despite her tender age, Juno understood that her cries would only strengthen their resolve.

She learned to hum before she could speak. The melody became her shield, her way to disrupt their rituals when they tried to push her limits too far.

When she was older, they punished her for her defiance. Not with whips or chains, but with time. They trapped her in loops, forcing her to relive her worst moments over and over. Pain, terror, sorrow—all compressed into eternal seconds.

But one day, during the grand ritual meant to awaken her full power, she sang. She sang louder and louder until the cradle shattered, and with it, time itself.

The resulting shockwave obliterated the cult, leaving Juno a lone survivor among the ruins.

The memory broke her focus, leaving her gasping in the present. Her reflection stood mere feet away, the Chronosword glowing with temporal energy.

"This is why you must die," the reflection hissed, its voice a bitter mirror of her own. "You don't even understand the power you hold. The Void smells your weakness. Every song you sing tears at the fabric of existence."

Juno staggered back, clutching at her chest. "I didn't choose this! I didn't ask for any of this!"

"And yet, here you are. Singing their song AGAIN, summoning their wraiths, dooming us all with your fucking suicide!"

The reflection lunged. Juno ducked, her instincts fueled by desperation. She fled deeper into the temple, her heart pounding, her mind reeling.

"I'm not like you!" she screamed as she ran. "I didn't survive all that to become a monster!"

But the melody followed her, growing louder with each step.

Her hiding place was suffused with an unnatural cold. The melody poured from her lips now, unstoppable, the words resonating in the air like cracks in glass.

"The clock may turn, the sand may fall,

Time's gentle cradle breaks us all.

Tick tock, the lullaby we sing,

A harbinger's tears, a reckoning."

The air around her shimmered. Her blood dripped onto the floor, forming intricate patterns that glowed faintly. Shadows twisted, forming into wraith-like figures.

"Time Wraiths," she whispered.

They emerged, half-formed monstrosities flickering between states of existence. Some had faces like fractured mirrors; others were nothing but blackened smoke. They didn't attack her. Instead, they turned toward her reflection, howling as if recognizing their jailer.

The reflection snarled, slashing at the wraiths with the Chronosword.

Juno stared, realization dawning. These were fragments of her past selves, the echoes of the countless versions of her who had met their end.

And they were angry.

The song continued, her voice wavering but determined.

"Through broken time, the song remains,

A cradle's curse, eternal chains.

The end is near, the wraiths do cry,

But still, we sing; we won't comply."

She stepped forward, tears and blood streaking her face, her gaze fixed on her reflection.

"You wanted to kill me because I defied fate," she said, her voice trembling but resolute. "Because I chose to save the people I care about, no matter the cost."

The wraiths circled her, their whispers filling her mind with fragments of memories and regrets.

"You can't fix time by killing me," she continued, staring down her reflection. "But maybe… I can fix it by owning what I've done."

The reflection hesitated, its grip on the Chronosword faltering.

Juno sang louder, her voice filled with the weight of her sorrow and defiance. The wraiths howled, their forms growing more distinct, more solid.

"Let time unravel, let it break,

This cradle song was my mistake.

But through the cracks, we'll find a way,

To hold the dawn, to seize the day."

As the last note echoed, the wraiths surged forward—not to destroy her, but to merge with her. Memories, power, and pain flooded into her mind, and for the first time, she understood the full scope of her role as the Timekeeper.

The reflection screamed, shattering into shards of light as the wraiths consumed it. Juno stood amidst the chaos, her body trembling, her voice raw.

"I am the Timekeeper," she whispered. "And this time… I'll get it right."

Juno's hands trembled as she stretched them out, the air vibrating faintly with the remnants of her Chronoenergy from her reflection.

"Chronosword: Manifest!" she cried, desperation threading her voice. But the void-tinged air around her did not respond. No shimmer of golden light. No signature hum of the blade materializing. Instead, the energy in the chamber felt heavier, oppressive—as if her power were suffocating under the weight of something far greater.

Her reflection across the broken time-shard mirrored her actions. Yet, it moved just a fraction too slowly, its movements stuttering like a corrupted memory replayed on loop. The glassy surface rippled, and Juno's voice faltered as she met the eyes of her other self.

The reflection was crying—tears of viscous blue light that hissed and evaporated as they struck the fractured ground. Its lips moved in agonizing slowness, mouthing words that Juno couldn't yet hear. Behind it, the streaks of Void energy grew brighter, the purple lines writhing like living veins in the very fabric of the shard.

"You… have to… stop," the reflection whispered, its voice distorted and fragmented. "Or it'll… take… everything."

Juno staggered back as the reflection's form began to flicker. Wisps of blue energy—threads of temporal essence—unraveled from its body, dissipating into the still air. Yet, even as it perished, the Void's hold on it tightened. Purple streaks snaked through the fading light, consuming the reflection in an unnatural embrace. Its eyes turned from pleading to something colder, darker.

"Wait. No, no, no!" Juno's voice cracked as she reached toward the shard, but her hand passed through the rippling surface, unable to touch. "Don't let it take you! Fight it!"

The reflection's lips curled into a grim, knowing smile. "Heh. I chose... this. It's… already… too late…"

The last threads of blue light vanished. In its place stood a hollowed form—a puppet of the Void. Its body collapsed to the ground in a final act of surrender, and from its broken frame, a swirling vortex of purple light erupted. The void-lines coalesced, spiraling upward into a towering form that radiated malice.

Agredor.

Juno's breath hitched as the Void Lord emerged. His silhouette was monstrous, an amalgamation of humanoid and eldritch anatomy. Jagged void-energy coursed through his translucent, shifting body, and countless dark tendrils floated like a crown around his head. His face was obscured, but two violet orbs pierced the darkness where eyes should have been. They burned with the weight of countless stolen realities.

"So, the Timekeeper finally sees me for what I am," Agredor spoke, his voice a deep, resonant boom that seemed to bypass the ears and echo directly in the soul. "I must say, Juno, it's been… entertaining, watching you fumble through my little playground."

Juno's hand instinctively went to her wrist, where her liquid-metal watch trembled erratically. "You've… been controlling this?"

Agredor chuckled, a sound like grinding stones. "Of course. I am showing you the futility of memories."

"Why?" Juno's voice was sharp, desperate. "Why keep me alive? Why not end this now?"

The Void Lord leaned closer, his towering form casting a suffocating shadow over her. "Because I can't. The Aspect of Time protects its chosen, even in death. You rewind, and rewind, and rewind again, slipping through my grasp like a thread of frayed destiny. But I figured that I don't need to kill you, Juno."

His voice dropped, cold and insidious. "I just need you to break."

As if on command, the air around them erupted into chaos. From the void-lines, monstrous figures emerged: Void Spawns, their forms grotesque and shifting, their presence an affront to existence itself. Simultaneously, the rift in time split further, spilling out spectral Time Wraiths. The two forces clashed, a cacophony of ethereal wails and guttural roars.

Juno's heart raced as she dodged the first attack, a Void Spawn's elongated limb slicing through the space where she had stood moments before. Her mind screamed for the system to respond.

"I'm... still powerless" she muttered, ducking behind a shattered pillar. "But don't underestimate me Agredor, I already figured from the start that it was all you and I was right. It's only a matter of time for me to figure out how to end all of this too."

"How? When your cruel memories even causes you harm?"

"Because my memories made me what I am."

But her reprieve was short-lived. Agredor raised a hand, and the battlefield stilled. From the void around him, he summoned something far larger, far more terrifying. The ground beneath Juno trembled as the creature took shape: a Chimera Void Spawn, its body a writhing mass of scaled limbs, snarling heads, and eyes—so many eyes—glowing with purple fire.

"Let's see how many times you can die," Agredor intoned, his voice dripping with cruel amusement.

The Chimera struck faster than Juno could react. One of its heads lunged, jaws snapping shut around her midsection. Pain exploded through her body as blood spattered the ground. The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was Agredor's cold, unrelenting gaze.

---

Juno gasped as her eyes snapped open. She was back in the classroom. Maeve was leaning over her desk, concern etched on her face. The twins were whispering, and the teacher was scribbling equations on the board. Everything was the same.

Except for the faint, lingering melody of the Eternal Cradle Song in the back of her mind.

Her hand trembled as she touched her stomach, expecting the wound… but there was nothing. No blood. No pain. Just the suffocating knowledge that she had died again. And that Agredor was still waiting.

Her fists clenched, her nails digging into her palms. "You want me to break?" she whispered under her breath. "We'll see who breaks first."