The Lady of Time

"Time broke here." The Compass's sudden surge of telepathy made me jump, earning a curious look from Kazuha. We made the briefest of eye contact and is that... amusement in her eyes? And a hint of a faint smile? That's two smiles if I'm right — not that I'm counting.

I pushed the thought to move to more pressing matters, mainly, my talking guide of a Compass coming out of retirement from the silent treatment.

"Oh. So now you decide to talk." I berated the Compass telepathically. "Could've used some divine guidance back when I was talking to Kazuha. What were you doing? Hitting on Stillveil?" I jabbed in irritation.

"No. Too starstruck to talk to her. Do you know that she's a celebrity even among relics? Those silver streaks made my needle spin uncontrollably back then." It remarked with sarcastic adoration. "Too bad she turned dark after Kazuha's fall. But hey, the two-toned silver and black streaks suit her better if I dare say so myself." The Compass quips back snarkily.

I rolled my eyes. I honestly was not able to comprehend what this relic is on, sometimes — like right now — it's this annoying trinket that I want to throw at the nearest cliff, and sometimes it offers guidance that borders on sagely. "Anyway. What do you mean by 'Time broke here'?" I asked.

"I meant literally kid, just use your eyes and you'll see what I mean." The Compass replied.

I looked, really looked, and immediately understood what it meant. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and the air smelled like spring had just taken its first breath.. and stopped.

Kazuha points to an old-marble archway half-buried in ivy, half-whispering something forgotten. Without a word, we made our way towards it.

"Uh kid. Just so you know." The Compass starts.

"What?" I answered in mild annoyance.

"Once we step past this archway, I would be...." the Compass pauses to my confusion as we stepped past the archway.

"Would be what?" I asked, tapping its face with a knuckle.

Literally, its needle stopped moving mid-glow, mid-hum, as if the very idea of direction had gone on break.

“Hello? Magical snark machine?” I muttered out loud, tapping it.

Nothing.

“He can’t help you here,” Kazuha said, her voice soft, her hands stroking Stillveil, its usual silver and black glow also ceased. “This place… rejects motion.”

The temple before us looked untouched by time. Blossoms hung in the air, caught mid-fall. A koi pond shimmered perfectly, no ripples despite the wind as a koi was frozen mid jump out of the water. A chime swayed, but made no sound.

Something about it made my skin crawl in the gentlest way possible.

"If it rejects motion then.." I wondered, my eyes fixing themselves on hers.

"Yes." Kazuha replied. "It rejects me. Motion needs time to, well, move." She finishes.

I nodded as I took another look at the temple. “It's beautiful,” I said.

“It's a prison,” Kazuha replied.

"That's better than a tomb." I replied grimly.

Kazuha smirks softly. "Can't argue with that."

We stepped inside.

The world was quiet in the way that hurts. My boots didn’t echo. Kazuha’s feet barely whispered. I held my breath without realizing it, afraid I’d disturb… whatever this was. It was tranquil — but the fragile kind — like glass can turn back to sand at any time.

In the center of the courtyard stood her.

Suspended mid-step, her hand outstretched like she’d been reaching for someone. Her eyes were half-closed, golden light seeping through from her half covered irises. A breeze caught her long hair, but it never fell.

“Sakura,” Kazuha whispered.

"One of your sisters?" I whispered back.

Kazuha nodded, " Sakura," she says again, louder now, like she's calling for her sister.

No response.

"People called her the Mirror of Regret after our fall," she sighed. "She was known by another name before that. The same way I was called The Angel of Grace before we fell. She was The Ophanim of Time and the Angel of Memory."

The mention of her titles seemed to have an effect on the immediate vicinity as time seemed to jump by half a second.

"I'm sorry." I said softly.

“And she’s not moving.” I observed, and for the first time, I took in her features. She was shorter than Kazuha, but her build seemed more compact with more of an hourglass figure, small waist and a considerable flair in her hips.

Like Kazuha though, she was divinely, otherwordly beautiful. Her hair was beaten gold, so was her eyes, her features reminded me of the delicateness softness of cherry blossoms in spring. And her eyes, for all its golden splendor seemed full of grief, regret, and sorrow as she appeared to carry the weight of time and memories.

“She hasn’t moved in centuries.” Kazuha replies.

"Unlike you." I noted.

"Like I said, her realm rejects motion."

I looked closer. A single teardrop hung suspended just below one golden eye, caught before it ever fell.

Around her, the garden seemed frozen in an eternal golden hour. Petals hung like constellations. Light didn’t flicker. It lingered.

“She did this to herself?” I asked, studying her face. I stared back at her eyes, they were more piercing, as if she peers directly inside your soul.

“Not intentionally," she replied. "She didn’t want to lose it — the last moment before everything shattered. She locked herself in it."

"Don't look directly at her eyes," she warned softly, "you'll either relieve your worst memories, or be stuck in stasis."

Her words triggered unwanted memories. Bloodied Wraith claws piercing a door, a little girl's sobs, and heads on spikes. Yet there was no sound, no screams, just silence —silence and death. I pushed those memories out and focused on the present before my head and chest tighten again and the pain will overwhelm me.

“So she's like in a memory on loop,” I commented.

“Like denial.”

"Denial of what? The Fall?"