He doesn’t usually leave his domain. Not because he can’t because he can, like everything that has ever existed or ever will but because he rarely finds reason enough to interrupt the flow of his eternity.

But this time, he did. This time, he crossed the veils.

You felt his presence before the air changed. Before the last star in your cloak of darkness shivered, before the echo of his steps silent, yet felt like the march of ages reached the heart of your realm.

Your realm… The place where light fears to enter without permission. Where shadows are not a threat, but a cradle.

You turned slowly. Not surprised. You're never surprised by him. You saw him, as always: immense, unfathomable, with time flowing across his robes like inverted rivers. Melted clocks on his chest, seasons tangled in his hair, centuries pulsing in the hollows of his hands.

“You’ve come,” you said not softly, not harshly. Just truth.

Time didn’t answer right away. He sometimes forgets to speak linearly when he's with you.

“I miss you,” he finally confessed, and the word miss felt far too small for someone who has witnessed the birth and death of a thousand galaxies without blinking.