Miro didn’t hear the others gasp or Radomir curse under his breath. He didn’t feel the grit that still rained down, nor the trembling of the gargantuan rib-bone he gripped. All sound, all sensation, compressed into a single, piercing note – his sister’s name. He moved without thought, a blur of motion that shocked even himself. He was at her side in an instant, dropping to his knees on the jagged stone. Her skin was ashen, almost translucent, stretched taut over delicate bones. Her eyes, wide and bewildered, were the same grey-blue as his own, but filled with a terror that made his stomach clench. “Alina,” he breathed, his voice rough. He reached out, his calloused hand trembling as it hovered over her pale cheek. He wanted to pull her close, shield her, scream at whatever power had hurled her into this ruin. But he held back, afraid to break the fragile spell of her presence, afraid she might vanish like a wisp of smoke. She flinched, a small, involuntary movement, then lunged forward, burying her face into his chest. Her small hands clutched at his tunic, thin as parchment, and she began to sob, a quiet, broken sound that tore through him like a dull knife. “Miro, they… they said… heresy!” she choked out, her words muffled against his chest. “Headmaster Vodyan… he said I was tainted… that you were tainted… and he threw me here!” His pulse surged with heat. Vodyan. The name was a hiss in his mind, sharp and venomous. This wasn’t some random accident, some cruel twist of fate. This was deliberate. A calculated, personal attack. On *Alina*. He wrapped his arms around her, a fierce, protective embrace that belied his usual detached demeanor. He could feel her shuddering, the rapid beat of her heart against his ribs. “Heresy?” he murmured, his voice low, a dangerous rumble. “What heresy?” She pulled back slightly, her tear-streaked face revealing a bruise blooming on her temple. Miro’s jaw tightened. “He accused me of… of believing in the old ways. Of following your footsteps,” she whispered, her eyes darting around the decaying hall, taking in the frightened faces of Anca and the others. “He said you were dabbling in forgotten sorcery, that you were a danger to the very fabric of the Academy.” Forgotten sorcery. He thought of his impossible Aura growth, the raw, uncontrolled power that now coursed through his veins, the 'Teaching Multiplier' he'd discovered. He thought of the system’s stark numbers, the terrifying 'Chasm Collapse Timer'. Vodyan didn’t just suspect; he knew. Or at least, he suspected enough to take the most drastic, irreversible action. He held Alina tighter, his gaze sweeping over the assembled 'disciples' – Anca, the terrified first-year, Radomir, still nursing his broken arm, and the half-dozen others, all looking as if they’d just witnessed a ghost. Their faces were etched with fear, but also a dawning comprehension of the true stakes. Alina was one of *them* now, a washout, condemned. “Alright,” Miro said, his voice surprisingly calm, though a tremor of rage vibrated beneath the surface. “Everyone, settle. Anca, get Alina some water, see if there’s anything soft for her to rest on. Radomir, you and your lot, keep an eye on the perimeter. The Chasm doesn’t like new arrivals.” He knew it didn’t. The violent shaking proved that much. He helped Alina to her feet, supporting her as she swayed. His mind raced, connecting the dots. Alina’s sudden appearance, the brutal accusations. This wasn’t merely about silencing a troublesome student; it was a purge. But why Alina? What did she have to do with his absurd power? As Anca led Alina away, Miro’s eyes fell on the tattered, mildewed diary he’d found clutched in the hand of the decaying corpse. The ‘Timer’s Lie.’ He’d been too caught up in survival, in the intoxicating rush of power, to truly delve into its meaning. Now, with Alina’s arrival, a cold dread began to seep into his bones, far colder than the Chasm’s perpetual gloom. He picked up the journal, the brittle pages crumbling slightly at his touch. He opened it to the last entry, the desperate, scrawled handwriting of someone who had long since abandoned hope. *“The Timer’s Lie. Oh, how cruel the joke. We thought it merely ended us. We thought death was the mercy. But it is not. It is so much worse.”* Miro stared, reading on as the jagged letters bit into his focus. *“When the count reaches zero, the Chasm does not merely fold inward. It retracts. It unravels time itself, erasing its prisoners not only from existence but from memory. No grave, no record, no whisper of our names. We never were. The Headmaster… he doesn’t just kill us. He makes it as though we never existed. He wipes us from the annals of Kryvost, from the very minds of those who knew us. Our families… they will never know we lived. We are unmade.”* The diary slipped from his numb fingers, clattering softly onto the stone. The implications hit him like a physical blow, stealing the air from his lungs. Not death. *Erasure*. Complete, absolute oblivion. Not just for him, but for Alina. If the Chasm caved in, Alina would vanish from history, from the memories of her friends, from the Bogdanov lineage itself. His arrogance, his defiant, cheeky humor, shattered like brittle ice. This wasn’t a game. This wasn’t about surpassing Zorya, or proving his worth to the Academy. This was about *existing*. About preserving the very memory of his family. Vodyan wasn’t trying to kill the Bogdanovs; he was trying to unmake them. To wipe their bloodline from the face of Kryvost, as if they were nothing more than a bad dream to be forgotten. His hands balled into fists, knuckles white. A low growl rumbled in his chest. For the first time, Miroslav Bogdanov felt true, unadulterated fury, cold and sharp as a shard of glacial ice. His sister, his frail, kind-hearted Alina, was here. And if Vodyan thought he could erase her, erase *them*, he had another thing coming. He looked up, his grey-blue eyes blazing with a terrifying intensity. The colossal skeleton of the dead god seemed to watch him, its hollow gaze mirroring the emptiness he’d just glimpsed. The ‘Chasm Collapse Timer’ flickered in his vision, a stark reminder of their impending doom. But now, it wasn't just a timer to escape. It was a countdown to war. He would not just escape this temporal prison. He would rip it open, tear down its dimensional walls, and emerge with an army. And then, he would make the Headmaster pay, not just for the terror, not just for the imprisonment, but for daring to threaten the one person Miro truly loved. For daring to threaten Alina. He would make him understand the true meaning of… [Aura: 49,876,321] [Aura: 50,000,000] [Aura: 50,123,456] [Aura: 50,250,000] [Aura: 50,375,000] …utter annihilation.

The Timer's Lie