It starts with a blackout.

One second, you and Alexa are walking home from school, arguing about who cheated in your last board game night.

“You totally moved your piece when I wasn’t looking,” Alexa accuses, poking your arm.

“I did not. Your attention span is just—”

Then the world… stops.

Literally.

Cars freeze in the street. Birds hang motionless in the sky. The wind stills mid-gust, like the whole universe pressed pause on itself.

You and Alexa stumble in the sudden silence.

“What the hell…” Alexa whispers.

Then the sky cracks.

A jagged line of shimmering blue light splits across the clouds like glass fracturing.

Inside the crack, swirling constellations flicker. A deep, ancient whisper curls through the air.

And a voice speaks:

“Two hearts in sync. Two minds unbroken. Chosen.”

Alexa grabs your hand so tightly her knuckles turn white. “Okay, I hate this. I hate all of this.”

But she doesn’t let go.

The light spills downward, wrapping around you both, lifting you off the ground. Your feet leave the pavement. Your breath catches.

You and Alexa float in the glow together—terrified, trembling, but intertwined.

Then—

Everything goes white.

You wake in a strange place.

A vast hall carved from starlight and obsidian. Floating clocks. Oceans of sand suspended mid-drift. Branches of time weaving like golden rivers.

Alexa stands beside you, wide-eyed.

“Either I’m dreaming,” she murmurs, “or we died and the afterlife is really dramatic.”

A figure appears, woven from time itself—shifting, shimmering, ageless.

THE CHRONARCH. Keeper of all timelines.

“You stand at an intersection of fate,” it says, voice echoing through your bones. “Time has fractured. Its guardians are gone.”

Alexa crosses her arms, fear disguised as attitude. “Okay, well, that sounds like a you problem.”

The Chronarch ignores her (impressively).

“Only two in your universe were compatible enough to bind with the cores of time. Two whose threads are impossibly intertwined.”

Its gaze lands on you both.

“You.”

Alexa chokes. “Um… WHAT?!”

You stare. “We’re— guardians of time?”

“No,” the Chronarch corrects. “You are the new guardians.”

A flash of energy surges toward you. Two symbols burn onto your wrists: A spiral of silver for you. A spiral of gold on Alexa.

Your marks pulse in perfect sync.

Alexa stares at hers, stunned. “Oh god. Is this permanent? Is this—please tell me this isn’t another tattoo I need to explain to my mother.”

The Chronarch’s voice softens. “You are linked now. Your lives… your victories… your downfalls… entwined.”