The city was alive with neon, voices, and the roar of distant engines—but to Aarav, it all faded to a dull hum as he stared at her.
His mother.
Or at least, the woman who looked like her.
She stood across the street beneath a flickering streetlamp. The faint blue glow in her eyes seemed to pulse in rhythm with the strange device in her hand. Her expression was calm—too calm. The soft, warm smile he remembered from childhood was replaced by something sharper, colder. Calculated.
Aarav's heart raced. This can't be real. The mother he remembered would never work with the Dominion. She wouldn't stand there, watching him like a predator sizing up its prey.
The street between them was busy—hovercars zipped past, and people hurried along the sidewalks, lost in their own worlds. None of them seemed to notice the tension crackling in the air.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Time itself seemed to hold its breath.
Then, she spoke. Not loudly, not in a way that drew attention. But Aarav heard her as clearly as if she stood beside him.
"Aarav. You shouldn't have come here."
Her voice—familiar yet unfamiliar—sent a chill down his spine.
He hesitated, searching for words. "Mom…?"
Her expression softened, just a fraction. But her grip on the device tightened. "You don't understand what you're doing. You're out of your time. You shouldn't exist here. Go back before it's too late."
Aarav shook his head, taking a step closer. The streetlamp's glow illuminated his face, and for a fleeting instant, he saw pain flash in her eyes. Real pain. Human pain. But it was gone as quickly as it came.
"I can't," he said, voice low but firm. "Not until I know the truth. Not until I stop this future from happening."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. The device in her hand glowed brighter. "You think you know what you're fighting for. But you don't. The Dominion… isn't what you believe it to be."
Aarav's mind reeled. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but his heart ached to stay. This was his mother. The one who'd tucked him in at night, who'd kissed his scraped knees, who'd told him stories of heroes and hope.
"Then help me understand," he pleaded. "Please. I don't want to fight you."
Her gaze flicked past him, and Aarav sensed movement—two figures in black suits emerging from the crowd, their eyes hidden behind mirrored glasses. Dominion agents. He recognized them from his encounter in 2079.
"They've found you," she said, voice trembling now. "I can't protect you if you stay. Please, Aarav. Go."
But it was too late. The agents drew closer, hands reaching for concealed weapons.
Without thinking, Aarav turned and ran, his mother's voice echoing behind him. "Run, Aarav. Run!"
The city became a blur of color and motion as he sprinted through alleys, weaving between startled pedestrians. The agents followed, relentless and silent. Their footsteps seemed to fall in sync with his pounding heartbeat.
He ducked into a narrow passage between two buildings, vaulted over a pile of crates, and emerged onto a side street. The neon signs above flickered in the rain, casting strange patterns on the slick pavement.
Aarav's mind raced as fast as his legs. I need a plan. I can't keep running forever.
He spotted a maintenance hatch near the base of a building—a relic of the city's older infrastructure. Without hesitation, he pried it open and slipped inside, sealing it behind him just as the agents rounded the corner.
Darkness swallowed him.
He waited, heart hammering, as the sounds of pursuit faded. Only when he was certain they'd passed did he allow himself to breathe.
The tunnel he'd entered was damp and narrow, lined with rusted pipes and tangled cables. He moved cautiously, feeling his way along the wall until his eyes adjusted to the gloom.
A faint light glimmered ahead.
Drawn to it, Aarav made his way down the tunnel, emerging into a forgotten maintenance chamber. Broken monitors lined the walls, and old tools lay scattered across workbenches. In the center of the room stood a large console, its surface coated in dust but still faintly glowing.
He wiped it clean and peered at the display.
A city grid. A map of Kurukshetra—this Kurukshetra. The past. Lines of code scrolled along the edge of the screen, updating in real-time.
And then he saw it.
A marker pulsing on the map. His location. And two others—agents, closing in.
Aarav's fingers flew over the controls. He didn't fully understand the system, but desperation lent him clarity. He rerouted power, triggered old security protocols, sealed off access points. The map showed the agents' paths blocked, at least temporarily.
That'll buy me time.
But as he studied the display, something else caught his eye. Another marker. This one deep beneath the city—beneath even the oldest tunnels. Labeled only as NEXUS CORE.
His pulse quickened. The Dominion's power source? The heart of their operation in this time?
If I can reach it…
Before he could think twice, he searched the system for a route. A hidden access tunnel appeared on the map, leading down, down into the depths. Dangerous. Unstable. But it was his only shot.
Determined, Aarav grabbed a rusted crowbar from the workbench—better than nothing—and set off.
The descent was treacherous. The tunnel grew narrower, the air heavier. Every sound echoed in the darkness—the drip of water, the creak of metal, the distant rumble of the city above.
Hours seemed to pass as he navigated the maze. At times, he had to crawl through collapsed sections, squeeze through gaps barely wide enough for his shoulders. But he kept going, driven by a need he couldn't fully explain.
Finally, the tunnel opened into a vast cavern.
And there it was.
The Nexus Core.
A sphere of black metal, suspended in midair by pillars of crackling energy. Cables as thick as tree trunks snaked from it into the rock walls, pulsing with blue light. The hum of power was deafening here, a living heartbeat that filled the air.
Aarav stared, awe-struck. This is it. The source.
But even as the thought formed, he felt a presence behind him.
He spun, raising the crowbar.
The figure that stepped into the light wasn't a Dominion agent.
It was his mother.
She looked at him with eyes that no longer glowed, eyes that shone with sorrow and love.
"Aarav," she said softly. "You shouldn't be here. You weren't supposed to find this."
He lowered the crowbar, confused. "Why? What is this place? Why are you with them?"
She stepped closer. "Because I had no choice. Because I had to protect you."
Tears filled her eyes. "The Dominion didn't just take over. They offered a bargain. They promised to spare you—if I helped them build this. The Core doesn't just power the city. It anchors the timeline. It ensures their version of history stays intact."
Aarav's heart ached. "And you believed them?"
"I had to," she whispered. "They showed me what would happen if I didn't. Your death. Again and again, in every timeline. I thought I could save you. But I was wrong."
She reached out, fingers trembling. "We can destroy it together. End this. But you have to trust me."
Aarav hesitated, torn between love and doubt.
And in that moment, the Sentinel stepped from the shadows, its blade raised.
The Core's hum grew louder, as if sensing the conflict. Sparks rained from the cables. The ground trembled.
Aarav raised the crowbar, but the Sentinel moved too fast.
And then, with a cry, his mother lunged—throwing herself between Aarav and the machine. The blade struck, and she fell, gasping.
"No!" Aarav shouted, catching her as she collapsed.
The Sentinel advanced, but the Core's energy surged, blasting it back. The machine staggered, circuits sparking.
His mother clutched his hand, voice weak. "Aarav… the panel… overload it. Destroy the Core. Change everything."
Tears streamed down his face. "I can't do this without you."
"You can," she whispered. "You must."
With a final breath, her eyes closed.
Rage and grief filled Aarav. He rose, turning to the control panel beside the Core. His fingers flew over the keys, bypassing security, initiating overload.
The Core pulsed faster, energy spiraling out of control.
The Sentinel recovered, charging one last time.
But before it could reach him, the Core detonated in a blaze of light.
When the light faded, Aarav found himself standing in the city once more.
But it was different.
The sky was clear. The air was fresh. The buildings whole. People moved through the streets, laughing, talking, free.
He had done it.
Or so he thought.
Because as he turned, he saw a figure watching him from the shadows.
Older. Hardened. A version of himself.
And the older Aarav spoke only two words:
"Not yet."