Timeless Wounds

Mira’s village sat nestled on the outskirts of Neotera’s old districts, where time flowed gently, unbroken by the chaos of the world beyond. The hum of chrono energy was a comfort there, mingling with the laughter of neighbors and the rhythm of her parents’ tools in their workshop. Lan and Aya Chen, renowned mechanics, were the heart of this small haven, their work bridging past traditions and the future’s potential.

Mira spent her days among glowing chrono nodes and the scent of oil, her hands deftly mimicking her parents’ craft. Her father would often watch her tinker, shaking his head with playful disbelief.

“You’ve got sharper hands than me,” he’d say. “One day, this workshop will be yours.”

Her mother would laugh, ruffling Mira’s hair. “At this rate, you’ll outshine us both before long.”

The village adored her, calling her the prodigy of their quiet world. And Mira believed it too. In her small hands, she held the power to make life better.

Then the strangers came.

They arrived one morning, their crisp uniforms and calm voices carrying an air of authority. The leader, a man with pale blue eyes, laid a holographic schematic on the workbench.

“We need your help,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “Distortions are spreading faster than anyone can contain. This device could stabilize them for good, but only mechanics of your calibe can bring it to life.”

Lan exchanged a wary glance with Aya. The distortions had been growing stronger, creeping dangerously close to the village.

Aya frowned as she studied the plans. “This design is advanced. Too advanced. What aren’t you telling us?”

The leader’s faint smile didn’t falter. “Our goal is survival—yours, and others’. This device is our best chance.”

Mira’s heart raced. To think she could help create something that might save not just her village but countless others—it was thrilling. Her parents’ hesitation wavered under her eager gaze.

“We’ll do it,” Lan said, resting a hand on Mira’s shoulder.

Weeks turned into months, and the device began to take shape. Mira poured every ounce of herself into its construction, her small hands flying over the intricate components with a precision far beyond her years.

The whole village was then certain. The child really was a prodigy.

The strangers would come back every so often, to check in on the progress.

Her father too, watched with pride as she worked late into the night. “You’re something else, kiddo,” he said, ruffling her hair.

Mira glowed under his praise. She didn’t notice the shadow that crossed her mother’s face as Aya quietly examined the schematics again, a growing unease gnawing at her.

The day of activation was meant to be a triumph. The device hummed with life, its chrono nodes glowing steadily as Mira ran her final checks.

“It’s ready,” she said, stepping back with a mix of exhaustion and pride. The 10 year old girl had succeeded where other renowned scientists couldn’t.

“So mister, about the payments—” Lan started, but their leader smoothly interrupted him.

“You don’t have to worry about that.”

The strangers stepped forward, their calm masks slipping just slightly as they activated the hidden switch.

What nobody didn’t realize—what Mira didn’t yet see— was a switch that redirected chrono energy hidden within the complexity of the schematics. One setting stabilized distortions, neutralizing the chaos; the other amplified them and created more at will, tearing through time with destructive force.

The leader found that very switch, and flipped it. The nodes’ steady glow faltered, then flared too brightly. Mira’s father frowned, stepping toward them.

“Wait,” Lan said sharply. “What are you doing?”

“This isn’t stabilization,” Aya snapped, her eyes darting to the energy readings spiking off the charts. “What did you do?”

The lead stranger sighed, his calm tone now laced with cold detachment. “I told you not to worry. There won’t be any trace of this place left when it’s done.”

Aya moved to shut the device down, but the strangers were faster. A sharp crack echoed through the workshop as one raised a weapon.

“Mom!” Mira screamed as her mother fell to the ground.

“Aya!” Before Lan could do anything, another shot rang out, and Mira’s father collapsed beside her mother.

“Dad…?”

Mira’s legs gave out beneath her as the device began to roar, its amplified energy feeding into the distortions. The world around her twisted and warped, the edges of time itself fraying as the distortions began to consume the village.

The little girl went limp as everything around her unraveled. One of the strangers picked her up, and despite her struggles pulled her away. Meanwhile the world she knew was being torn down from the seams.

“Mira Chen,” the stranger said, his voice smooth amid the chaos. He crouched beside her trembling form, his cold gaze locking onto hers. “Remember this day. You built this. You made it possible. You are one of us now.”

With a flick of his hand, one of his subordinates pressed a branding iron against her chest as the others held her down. The serpent coiled into an hourglass burned into her skin, marking her as their own.

The pain seared through her, but it was nothing compared to the agony of watching her home—the life she loved—crumble into nothingness.

When the distortions finally subsided, Mira lay motionless amidst the ruins, the mangled bodies of her parents and neighbors scattered around her. The device she had built was taken away from the men, leaving only death and her behind. They didn’t take her with them, sensing the child would rather run straight into the distortions than stay with them.

She didn’t move until days later when the Chrono Knights arrived. Naturally they took her in. For a while she wouldn’t talk nor eat…

The mark on her chest burned not just with pain, but with the weight of what it symbolized: betrayal, destruction, and a loss she could never undo.

Everything was destroyed. And SHE was the one who built that instrument of destruction.

◔

Mira sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, her gaze fixed on the flickering flames as if they held the answers to questions she couldn’t bear to ask. Jessie sat beside her, silent, the weight of her words still settling in his chest.

“I kept building after it all happened,” Mira said, her voice low, “After the Chrono Knights found me… after I realized I couldn’t go back. Building was all I knew. My hands… they wouldn’t stop. It was the only thing that felt real, the only thing that kept me… close to them. Even though they were gone.”

Jessie didn’t interrupt, unsure if anything he could say would even matter.

Mira’s voice wavered. “But it wasn’t enough. Nothing’s ever been enough.” She looked up at him then, her eyes glassy, filled with a pain so raw it made his heart twist. “I killed them, Jessie. I killed my parents. I killed everyone.”

Jessie’s breath caught, his brow furrowing. “Mira—”

“The device I built destroyed everything,” she continued, her voice breaking. “I didn’t see the switch. I didn’t question why they wanted me to make it. I was just so desperate to help, so proud to show them what I could do. And it worked… but not how I thought. I made that. I ended them.”

Her shoulders began to shake, her tears falling freely now. “It’s my fault. All of it.”

Jessie moved without thinking, closing the distance between them. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. Mira stiffened at first, then crumpled against him, her sobs muffled against his shoulder.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Jessie said, his voice firm but soft. “You didn’t know. You were just a kid, Mira. They lied to you. They used you.”

Her hands gripped his suit, clutching it as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. “But I—”

“You built something to save lives, not take them,” he interrupted, his tone resolute. “That’s who you are, Mira. You wanted to help. You couldn’t have known what they’d do.”

Her sobs quieted gradually, her breathing still uneven but slowing. Jessie didn’t let go, holding her as if his embrace could shield her from the weight of her memories.

“You’re not what they made you do. You’re more than that.”

Mira buried her face deeper against his shoulder, her voice barely audible. “I don’t know how to stop feeling like this...”

“You don’t have to figure it all out right now. Just… don’t carry it alone anymore.”

They sat there in silence, the fire casting long shadows on the cave walls. Slowly, Mira’s breathing evened out. Her hands loosened their grip, and her body grew heavier against him.

When Jessie glanced down, he realized she’d fallen asleep, her head resting against his chest. The tension in her face had softened, replaced by an almost fragile stillness. He let out a quiet breath, leaning back slightly to get comfortable without disturbing her.

Jessie stared into the flames, his thoughts tangled with everything she had told him. He didn’t have all the answers, but he knew one thing for certain—Mira wasn’t alone anymore.

◔

Jessie stirred as the dim morning light seeped through the cracks in the cave walls. The fire had long since died, leaving only faint wisps of smoke curling upward. Across from him, Mira sat cross-legged, her holo-tablet balanced on her knees. Her fingers moved deftly over its surface, though frustration lingered in her furrowed brow.

“How’s it coming?” Jessie asked, his voice hoarse as he rubbed the stiffness from his neck.

Mira looked up with a grin.

“Took most of the night, but I think I’ve got it working,” she replied, “The beacon signal was scrambled after the water damage, but I’ve managed to reroute the circuits. Just need to stabilize the frequency.”

Jessie sat forward, watching as the tablet flickered faintly to life. After a few tense seconds, a soft ping echoed from the screen. A waypoint signal pulsed faintly, marking Squad GX’s emergency beacon. They had probably activated it last night so Jessie and Mira could locate them. 

“Got it. It’s weak, but it’s there. They’re about a click northwest.”

Jessie grinned, “See? You’re a miracle worker. Let’s get moving before we have another cave adventure.”