How much time has come and gone since that day? I can still see myself, back then, teetering on time's edge, staring ahead at a rift in reality, about to commit my life, my course, my purpose, to a cause millennium old. The chamber hummed around me, like a secret tune only we knew, strange but familiar, like a lullaby long forgotten, fuelling the heart of the sanctum. The copper, brass and marble walls shimmered as the gentle grinding of clockwork cut through the atheric hum that warmed my heart with feelings of life, and loss. Standing so close to a rift in time…tends to have that effect. What else do I remember of my initiation? Nothing. Its fuzzy now, the memories worn thin. Time is like a tapestry, with each strand telling a story, and mine, it seems, was bound to fray.
I'm a Timekeeper, a solemn guardian of my people's legacy, entrusted with shielding our world and the universe from the sinister forces that menace our existence. I wasn’t always destined for this, I served many years in the Illadrian vanguard, rising through the ranks as an engineer. A damned good one too, or so my father believes. Then it began, the war unfurling like a nightmare before us—an asymmetrical conflict painted in blood. We were forever caught on the defence, while their purpose seemed singular: to embrace the art of slaughter and “conquer creation”. The echoes of the Kromas' onslaught on our worlds persist even now—not that they have slowed their advance—marking the passage of several years since that relentless conflict was ignited.
I was fortunate, I guess, my skills regarded with enough reverence to warrant being recalled home to work on Illadrias defences, in case the day came the Kromas chose to try their luck on our home. For a while it was routine, peaceful even, upgrading and augmenting machinery that would have made any young Gearsmith faint with awe. Working on devices made by some of the greatest minds to ever grace our world was an honour, even under the circumstances. But this grace period did not last…
It was raining, the day my life took a detour. I’d barely taken a sip of my morning tea when I saw the news. The vessel I had been posted on, The Nebuline, had been destroyed trying to defend a planet still within its terrestrial era. The people of that world hadn’t even made it to the stars but were still at the mercy of the Kromas’ campaign. That’s what my species had become, the guardians of all, at the cost of our own.
I couldn’t stand by anymore, tinkering, upgrading, all while comfortable and safe on my home soil. So, I did it. Applied to the Illadrian council to become a Timekeeper. What are they? A specialist group, a tactical unit if you will, for missions that require more skill and finesse than our vanguard can provide. All their work is carried out while dedicating themselves to preserving history, protecting Illadria, and safeguarding the secrets of the universe throughout the eras to come. I still don’t know how I was accepted into their ranks, but I was, and I left my old life behind.
My species, meanwhile, were on the front lines, leading the charge in a ceaseless battle against the Kromas' relentless advance—yet no matter our defensive might, the war persisted. An eternal clash of annihilation and ultimately futile diplomacy. While our soldiers fought tirelessly to safeguard every world and race, Illadrian or otherwise, the skills and technology of my fellow Timekeepers and I was deemed too critical for the front lines. Looking back, that may have been an oversight. No. It was an oversight.
The war reached a standoff, practically goading our adversaries into drastic measures, deploying the most devastating of weapons to dismantle their foremost obstacle: us. Devices designed to tear our worlds asunder with gravity, atom by atom, yet here we stand, nearly a year marooned, encased in the unwavering wards that shield our planets. A sanctuary from the Kromas' wrath, but also a prison, thwarting our escape. We do not know if this was their plan, to trap us behind our own technology, or if this was an unlucky side-effect of their failed offensive. Their weapons merely served to force our defences into overdrive, trapping us in purgatory, unarguably – secure, yet stagnant.
Today though, an unease settles in the air. Ripples of disquiet traverse the world, tugging at my connection to time itself. It is as though an impending tempest threatens to fray the very fabric of existence while enticing me to follow this portent to its source. My fingertips graze the emblem-adorned gauntlet on my wrist, a poignant symbol of my duty and allegiance to safeguarding all races, all lives. A disconcerting vision flickers before my eyes – a shadowy figure, draped in darkness, presiding over the disintegration of worlds.
Perchance destiny, those weavers of fate, have elected this juncture to realign our course, to flip our stagnated script. Whether this pivot herald’s prosperity or peril, I shall embrace it, for the winds of change beckon and I, Leonye, stand ready.
