The Chronos Rift was not silent, only vast and empty. Shards of severed realities drifted like frozen snowflakes in the inky blackness.

Timekeeper Cookie rested their elbow on a fragment of a ruined clock tower, a cracked, perpetual smile stretching across her face. The Sonic Embroider rested in her gloved hand.

Before them, a localized loop played out endlessly. It was a projection of a timeline that had been ‘snipped’ mid-crisis: a small, exhausted Cookie was attempting to repair a broken warp gate, only to be caught in the resulting explosive feedback.