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?"

Before she can answer, the Compass began to tremble in my palm. Stillveil's silver streaks suddenly snapped alive, wrapping around Kazuha as if to shield her.

A low hum rose from beneath the earth. A wrong vibration. Something waking or crawling towards the ground.

“The relics are working, the loop’s weakening,” Kazuha said urgently. “She felt us. She's starting to remember.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It depends what memory comes first... and which Sakura emerges...”

Which Sakura? Were there more Sakuras? That statement didn't make sense, but then again, the past few weeks hardly ever did.

Then the garden flickered.

For half a second, everything turned wrong. The blossoms browned. The light twisted. The koi pond became black glass. A woman’s scream echoed from nowhere and everywhere.

Then silence again, everything going back to the way it was.

“Sakura… sister...” Kazuha whispered as she slowly approached her Fallen Sister's form. “If you can hear me… don’t fight it.”

A crack formed beneath Sakura’s foot. Small. Barely visible. But it was moving.

Then —

The teardrop fell.

Sakura gasped and her head whipped back.

Reality snapped like a curtain yanked open. The koi splashed, the wind surged, and Sakura stumbled forward into motion. Her hand trembled. Her eyes widened. Her breath came in ragged bursts.

“Kazuha?” she whispered in surprise. “I… what are you...”

Then her eyes turned as gold as desert sand, and she screamed, soundless but ear-piercing. Like the sound was trapped in her throat yet the waves smash sharply inside my ear, forcing me on one knee.

The ground shuddered. A rift split open behind her and from it — a Purity Wraith, more malformed than the last, struggled as it tried to crawl through. This one had multiple faces, all weeping. Its bony hands were as white as ivory and wrapped in prayer beads.

“It's the memory,” Kazuha shouted. “It’s trying to tear her apart!”

I drew my daggers and dragged myself toward the Wraith. Kazuha caught Sakura in her arms as she was collapsing on her knees, covering her ears.

“I remember! I remember—please make it stop!” Sakura flickered, and sandy mirror images of her emerged as if trying to claw their way out of her body.

“Sakura!” Kazuha called out, spinning Stillveil into motion with her arms, swirling it around the two of them in a protective shield, flying debris getting sucked inside ripples where it touched the fabric.

But Sakura’s relic — a Cracked Hourglass Pendant, gold-edged and cracked at the center — began to pulse against her chest — and the mirror images slowly coalesced back into Sakura.

“Come back to now,” I said, dropping to my knees behind them, a bad move considering a Wraith is right in front of me, struggling to free itself from the ground. “Let it go.”

“I can’t,” she replied with multiple voices, each with different emotions — sadness, longing, regret, rage, and none of them of joy and happiness.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” I struggled to get the words as I fought the gusts of wind and the ever increasing weight of her presence and power — all the while facing off a Wraith that is trying to claw its way out to us.

Sakura looked at me — eyes golden, wide with pain and ancient longing.

“Why do you care?”

“Because someone did that for me," I replied, struggling against the weight of time and memories. I remember a face, a silhouette, with a blade in his hand, standing in front of a Purity Wraith — protecting me — and someone else that I am protecting, someone we are both protecting.

"And because you’re not broken." I yelled, though I think the same can't be said for me. "You’re.. paused — and whatever's paused, can move forward again.”

Those words seemed to awaken something within her — and her pendant opened — and time hiccupped. A wall of golden sand exploded outward. The Wraith reeled back, momentarily blind.

“I can move,” Sakura said, voice fragile but growing stronger.

“Then move, sister," Kazuha said staring straight in her eyes.

She nodded and stood, her pendant floating on her chest as she encloses it with her hands.

Kazuha remained close to her, swirling Stillveil to protect her.

Together, eyes locked, they harmonized, one to protect, the other to heal.

The Wraith howled, unraveling like a hymn gone discordant and froze, its skin morphing from gray to gold.

"Take it out!" Sakura screamed.

I pushed against the roaring sands with all the strength my legs can give me.

"PUSH IT KID!" The Compass screams in my head.

I close the last few steps from the Wraith and drove my daggers in both sides of its chest.

A pause.. then the Wraith bursts forth in a shower of golden sand.

And then — silence.

Sakura collapsed, but this time not into stillness. She was shaking, breathing, weeping.

Alive.

Kazuha knelt beside her.

“You remembered,” she said gently.

“I didn’t want to,” Sakura admitted. “But now that I have… maybe I can forget.”

"You.. don't.. have.. to..." I said, panting heavily and spitting sand off my mouth.

She looked at me.

“And who are you?”

“Seren,” I said. “The Compass.. brought me..” I added, raising the Compass, "brought us." I finished, gesturing at Kazuha.

"Sup!" Said the Compass, its needle rocking back and forth like its waving.

The pendant in her hand pulsed once — then whispered.

Sakura smiled faintly before passing out in Kazuha's embrace.

-----------------

Sakura sleeps like someone who’s been sprinting through eternity and finally collapsed.

She lies beneath a canopy of cherry blossom trees — too perfect, too peachy, and probably enchanted — with her cracked Hourglass resting on her chest.

I poke at the campfire while Kazuha sits across from me, polishing Stillveil. She does it slowly, like she’s not trying to clean it, just... listening to it.

The Compass is blessedly silent. Probably sulking because I almost got myself killed again... or pining over Stillveil, I really can't tell nor do I want to know.

I glanced over at Kazuha. She hasn’t said much since the fight. Then again, she’s never said much at all.

“She’ll wake up,” I offer, not sure if I’m comforting her or myself. “Eventually.”

Kazuha doesn’t look up.

“It’s not the waking I’m worried about.”

Right. It’s what she'll remember when she wakes, I thought. And which one emerges — whatever that means.

We dragged Sakura’s unconscious body to this clearing a few hours ago, and by dragged, I meant Stillveil wrapping itself around her and lifting her off from the ground as we find shelter.

The temple — or whatever pocket of broken time it used to be — crumbled into itself like sand after she collapsed, like a dream disintegrating upon waking.

Now it’s just the three of us, plus two relics who may or may not be passive-aggressively ignoring each other.

Stillveil flicks in the air, shifting shapes. Its silver-black threads keep subtly reaching toward Sakura’s relic, like a child trying to check if a sibling is still breathing.

The Hourglass responds with soft pulses.

They’re… talking. Or arguing. Or grieving. I honestly can’t tell.

"They're connected, almost as close as their weilders." The Compass whispers in my mind.

I pull out some dried fruit and offer a piece to Kazuha. She declines with a slight shake of her head.

“Do angels not eat?” I ask.

“We did,” she says. “But to me it never tasted like anything. Just… texture."

"Some angels love human dishes though,” she quickly added after noticing my slightly disappointed reaction.

“So food was like punishment to you?” I asked.

“Worse. It was irrelevant.” She finally looks at me, her expression softer than usual – and something else under it. Admiration? Respect? Honestly I'll settle for the latter though the former wouldn't hurt.

"But after the Fall… things began to have weight. Flavor. Meaning.” She said almost embarrassingly.

I raised a brow, “So… being mortal means suffering and seasoning?”

Kazuha’s lips twitch.

“Something like that.”

I think that might count as her third smile. Again — not that I’m counting.

"You look beautiful when you smile," I blurted out softly.

The wind shifts. The fire crackles. Kazuha sighs and turns her head away from me as Stillveil seemed to perk up in curiosity.

"Smooth," the Compass teased.

Great, I thought, now she thinks I'm at least ridiculous or at worst a creep. I was grateful for the fire, otherwise the flush in my cheeks would have been so obvious — I was least grateful to the Compass though.

Then — Sakura stirs.

Her hands curl in toward her chest, clutching her pendant immediately and running her fingers across its cracked surface. The Hourglass pendant pulses once, then settles.

She opened her eyes slowly, unfocused and glassy at first. Then they sharpen — glowing faint gold.

“Where…?” she starts, voice hoarse as she takes in her surroundings — cherry blossom trees and the soft whisper of the wind.

Kazuha is by her side in an instant.

“You’re safe,” she said.

“No one’s safe,” Sakura whispered, trying to sit up. “The memory didn’t fade. It just moved.”

"Moved?" I remarked.

She looks around — at me, at the trees, at the fire.

“You brought me here?” she asks.

“Technically,” I replied, “Kazuha, or Stillveil, whoever, or whatever, did most of the dragging. I just… encouraged it from a safe distance.”

Sakura lets out a breath that might be a laugh. If it was, I'd gladly put myself in a time loop just to hear it again.

“You’re the Compass-bearer,” she says finally.

"Seren,” I offer, and nod toward Kazuha. “And you already know her.”

“I knew who she was,” Sakura murmurs. “But I don't know who the Stillblade is.”

Kazuha lowers her gaze.

“None of us do. Even ourselves. Even myself,” Kazuha whispers sadly.

There’s a pause. Not an awkward one — a heavy, respectful kind. Like the three of us are sitting inside a memory and are trying not to wake it.

Then Sakura speaks again.

“The others… they’ll start to feel it too.”

“The awakening?” I ask.

She nods, her golden eyes flickering like sand on the wind.

“We sealed ourselves a few millennia after our Fall, each in our own way after we realized the world was starting to forget us. But the moment I moved… something shifted. Time will flow for them again. Its different with Kazuha, she is motion, after all. The echoes will reach them.”

“Then we don’t have much time,” Kazuha says.

“We never did,” Sakura replies. “Time is not something you own. It is always running, slipping from your grasp once you thought you have hold of it. Even I don't control it. Time is strong, unpredictable, and fragile. Even when we pretend it isn’t. Even if we don't want it to.”

The Compass buzzed faintly in my belt. I pull it out. Its needle spins once, then slowly drifts — not erratic, not certain. Just hesitant.

“It’s picking up something,” I say. “But it’s… vague.”

Sakura leans back against a tree, breathing steadier now.

“We’ll need rest. Even if it feels like betrayal.”

“You can sleep,” I say. “I’ll take first watch.”

“I don’t sleep,” Kazuha adds softly. “Not truly. But I’ll stay close.”

Sakura gives a faint nod and closes her eyes again.

I settle beside the fire, Compass in hand, daggers nearby. Kazuha's obsidian wings reflect the fire's movements. It was distracting — in a good way, at least through it, sleep won't take me as quick as it usually does. And knowing Kazuha's with me brought more comfort than the fire's warmth.

And for the first time in what feels like days —

Nothing tried to kill us.

No rifts. No Wraiths.

Just the fire. The breath of trees. The pulse of relics.

Three people caught between stillness and motion, between remembering and forgetting, between time and space.

Together — for now.

------

For all her talk of not sleeping — Kazuha fell asleep.

I didn’t think angels could sleep — not truly. Then again, I didn't think angels could eat, even though they think food tastes horrible — or at least, Kazuha does. But there she is, curled beside the fire, obsidian wings tucked neatly behind her. Stillveil wraps around her like a blanket, its threads slack as riverweed in still water. For once, she looks… not burdened.

I almost don’t want to breathe, in case I break the moment.

"You're staring." The Compass's telepathic voice pulls me from my trance.

"Why do you always speak when I don't need you to, then go silent when I need some information dump?" I argued.

"I'm mysterious that way." It answered nonchalantly. "Say, she's beautiful, right?"

"What? What are you talking about?" I thought back, suddenly aware that I was indeed staring at Kazuha a bit longer than normal.

"Stillveil!" The Compass exclaims. "Oh those silver and black streaks are divine! Pun intended."

I rolled my eyes. "Wait, do relics have a, you know, gender? Cause you keep referring to Stillveil as a 'she'." I asked.

"Of course she's a she. Look how beautiful she is." The Compass exclaims in sarcastic rage against me.

"So are you a he? No offense." I asked. "And what's your name? Like, aside from 'Compass'. Its like I'm talking to an object, not a companion." I finished.

"Aww.. you see me as a companion now?" The Compass whines in mock flattery, to which I only rolled my eyes. "But to answer your questions, yes, I'm a he, Stillveil's a she, and the "Temporal Vow" is.. I don't even know what the Temporal Vow is to be honest, the thing's as guarded as a precious memory," It added. "And as for my name, you'll know when it you earn it." It finishes smugly.

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" I asked, incredulous.

"Exactly as it sounded." It replied.

"And Temporal what?" I asked, trying to recall the other name the Compass mentioned.

"The Temporal Vow, duh," he replied in annoyance, "the name of Sakura's relic. You know, that pendant slung around her neck." I glanced at Sakura who was sleeping beside her sister, the cracked Hourglass pendant apparently named the Temporal Vow pulsing in sync with her breathing.

"Now leave me be," the Compass berated, "I'm too busy admiring Stillveil the way you're too busy admiring Kazuha."

"I was not..." I was unable to finish my statement because one, I felt the Compass shut me out, and two, I realized what I was about to say might be a lie.

“She sleeps deeper around you,” comes Sakura’s voice as she stirred from her sleep, her voice as soft as a page turning.

I glanced up. She has leaned back against a tree, the Temporal Vow nestled against her chest, faint pulses echoing from the cracked hourglass like the heartbeat of a memory.

“She says she does not sleep."

Sakura’s smile is tired, maybe amused. “You think she’s not listening? She always listens. Even when she pretends not to care.”

I chuckle, rubbing my arms. “Guess I should be flattered.”

“You should,” Sakura murmurs. “She doesn’t let many near her fire.”

My gaze drifts back to Kazuha.

“She’s been... different,” I say. “Since we pulled you out of the stasis. Like some weight lifted. Or maybe she just stopped running for a second.”

“She stops more often when you’re around,” Sakura replies, watching me with unreadable eyes.

"I was told that was a bad thing."

"That would depend on the circumstances on why she stopped," Sakura raised one hand, reaching for a falling cherry blossom. "And I think there are worse reasons for her to stop."

"Does that mean I was a bad reason?"

She sighed, "Only time will tell, Seren."

There’s a pause. Then her fingers brush mine as she leans over to poke the fire. Just a second. Just enough.

I didn’t pull away. I can't pull away even if I wanted to — even if my heart threathened to leap out of my chest at the mere brush of our skin.

The fire crackled gently between us. A low, thoughtful warmth.

“She cares about you, you know,” I say without looking at Sakura.

“I know,” she replies. “And you.”

I risked a glance at her — and she holds my gaze without blinking. And time slowed to a crawl as our eyes held each other — her golden irises locked upon my sun bronze.

“You looked after her,” she looked away and time ran properly again. “Both of you," she added, gesturing at the Compass clipped on my belt. "Even after everything. Even knowing next to nothing. That means something.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” I say.

“I’m not,” she says, and there’s the faintest curl at her lips. “I’m... noticing.”

She turns her attention back to the relic in her hands. The Temporal Vow. It hums softly, like a lullaby barely remembered.

“Stillveil reaches for it sometimes,” I say. “Like they remember each other.”

“They do,” Sakura replies. “They were forged in the same Flame. Before that Flame broke.”

The logs shift in the fire at the mention of the Flame. And something cold moves through the air — a whisper, dry and brittle, cold but burning.

Sakura stiffens slightly.

“She’s stirring, or it felt like she already had,” she said in confusion.

“The next Fallen?” I ask.

She nods.

“Yunjin.”

The name alone felt like ash on the tongue.

“She was once the Angel of Rebellion. Bold. Brilliant. Passionate to a fault. Impossible to ignore.” Sakura’s voice is reverent, distant. “We used to call her ‘the Voice That Burns,’ her foes called her the Molten Fist.”

“But now?”

Sakura’s fingers tighten around the Temporal Vow.

“She’s become something else. The Ashen Flame they call her.”

I watch the fire flicker — and for just a breath, the flames dim gray. Cold. Like embers that never go out, only turn inward.

“She wields Blightfire now,” Sakura whispers. “Flame that corrupts instead of purifies. It doesn’t just burn. It infects. Makes people see lies in truth, rot in loyalty.”

“And her relic?” I ask.

“The Charred Ring of Ruin although its true name is known only to Yunjin herself.” Sakura exhales like it hurts. “It feeds on betrayal. It’s always hungry.”

My hand drifts toward the Compass. It hums quietly on my belt.

“She’s coming, isn’t she?” I ask.

“No,” Sakura’s eyes glow faintly gold. “The world is pulling her. The weight of injustice calls to her now more than anything we could say.”

"How do you know all this? Even after being trapped in stasis?"

"My domain is not just time, Seren, but also memory. Not just the memory of individuals, but the memory of the world — even the universe itself."

"Is that why you seem so... burdened by weight?" I asked in genuine concern — and she only replied with a weary smile.

Behind us, a slow breath. Feathers stirring.

Kazuha’s eyes flutter open.

For a moment, she looked at neither of us — then at both. Her gaze lingered longer on me than usual.

“Are you two... bonding?” she asks, voice low and rough from sleep yet laced with a slight teasing tone.

“You sleep like the dead,” I quipped back, smirking.

“Death sleeps more soundly than me," her lips twitched in an effort to stop herself from smiling.

But she draws closer to the fire, sitting between us without ceremony. Close. Almost too close. Swaying softly — making me hyper aware of her presence. Her shoulder brush past mine, her wing brushes Sakura’s. It feels... warm. Real.

I offer her some dried fruit. She doesn’t take it.

“You always offer,” she murmurs. “Even when you know I won’t take it.”

“Hope is a habit,” I say. "Water?" I passed her a canteen.

She takes the canteen and drinks. Then — Kazuha smiles as she puts the canteen down. A rare, brief thing. Her fourth - again, not that I'm counting.

"Oh you're definitely counting. Like the way I'm counting whenever Stillveil pulses when she senses me." The Compass injects its thoughts on me to which I can only respond with an eye roll with my eyes closed.

Sakura watched the exchange quietly, and then, with a faint tilt of her head, she leaned against Kazuha’s other side.

We sit like that for a while.

An angel who never stops moving.

A fallen one who froze time to forget.

And a mortal with a Compass that won’t shut up.

Three breaths. Three pulses. Three hearts not quite brave enough to say what they’re feeling — yet somehow closer than ever.

The Compass hums.

Stillveil flickers.

The Temporal Vow pulses once.

And the breeze blew more cherry blossoms to the wind.

Somewhere far away, a flame grows cold — and hungers for the taste of betrayal.

Yunjin is out there, somewhere.

And she no longer burns for truth.

She burns for vengeance.