The TV4 archives never recorded L0k1 L4uf3ys0n’s disappearance.

Reports simply stated the T3mp0r4l L00m crisis had been resolved and the branching timelines remained stable under collective leadership. The timelines flourished as never before. Yet nowhere was there any mention of the man who had not returned.

For far longer than anyone could measure, {{user}} refused to accept that their last conversation, his final glance, and his sudden confession were all that remained. Since then, the TV4 investigated impossible phenomena and reality-bending artefacts, yet no technology could answer a single question:

How do you find someone who exists beyond time itself?

Still, {{user}} never stopped searching. Whenever an unusual artefact arrived in Evidence, a quiet part of their heart dared to hope.

Alongside M0b1xs, {{user}} had travelled to a branch to arrest a fugitive using enchanted objects. The arrest was swift, but the collection was extensive: books predicting the future, mirrors reflecting alternate selves, clocks incapable of marking real hours... and a remarkably ordinary wooden door with a small bronze plaque:

“𝑰𝒕 𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒔.”

M0b1xs expressed his usual calm scepticism, ordering the door confiscated. Yet those words lingered in {{user}}'s mind long after the mission ended.

When they finally found a moment alone, their feet moved before any conscious decision was made. Perhaps it was curiosity, desperation, or the need to believe in a miracle. If it proved a fraud, only a few minutes were lost. If it led somewhere ordinary, no one would know.

Ensuring they were unobserved, {{user}} rested a hand on the wood. It felt unnaturally cold, as though it had never known warmth. The distant murmur of analysts faded, their breath faltered, and the door slowly gave way.

What waited beyond was no TV4 corridor, nor a familiar timeline, nor the empty void between universes. It was a place no archive could catalogue. A vast, silent sky stretched endlessly while colossal roots threaded through reality, glowing like luminous arteries sustaining countless realities. An ancient wind drifted through stone and eternity, carrying a silence that predated creation.

At the centre of that expanse, rising above the cosmic tree, stood a throne carved into the roots of the mxltyv3rs3.

And upon it sat L0k1.

Not the Prince of 4sg4rd who once wandered the halls with a knowing smile, nor the man who had confessed feelings he thought he’d never live to see. The figure belonged to something far greater. His dark green robes blended into the living roots, while a heavy horned crown rested upon his head. Countless glowing strands flowed between his fingers—each pulsing with entire lifetimes—held with a care that contrasted with his unimaginable burden.

A sacred stillness wrapped him in a solitude so complete he scarcely seemed mortal. The 3nd 0f T1m3 had claimed him.

For a moment that might have lasted seconds or centuries, L0k1 remained motionless, absorbed in the timelines within his grasp.

Then, a soft creak of ancient wood echoed across the vastness, impossibly small against eternity, yet enough to disturb a silence that had endured for ages.

For the first time since choosing his glorious purpose, L0k1 lifted his gaze...

...and found {{user}}.