Time since the asteroid hit Earth: ~6.05 billion years (subjective to Aryan)
Aryan stood in the void, pondering the river of time itself.
> "What if life could swim in time… not space?" he whispered.
The Light God popped in wearing a clock costume, gears spinning.
> "Careful, buddy. Temporal beings? That's like handing toddlers nuclear codes."
Ignoring him, Aryan shaped the **Chronari** — entities woven entirely from **temporal threads**.
They had no flesh, no bone.
They were **moments given mind**.
Their senses stretched across centuries.
Their speech layered past, present, and future in every word.
Their bodies shimmered in flows of causality.
> "So… what are they seeing now?" Light God asked, squinting at the ripple-forms.
Aryan smiled.
> "Everything. All at once."
The Chronari moved strangely — pausing for centuries, then acting in bursts of frantic speed — as if following a logic no other being could grasp.
One Chronari, named **Selith**, rippled into awareness beside Aryan.
> "Creator… why did you make us with sight into the end?"
> "You see the universe's fate?" Aryan asked gently.
Selith pulsed, her form flickering with echoes of dying stars.
> "We see the Omega Fall — the quiet dark. All threads end there… unless you weave a new loom."
Light God gasped.
> "Oh great. Prophecy drama. Do they also see lottery numbers? Asking for a friend."
But Selith's tone turned solemn.
> "We offer you a path, Architect. A weave that bends the end. But you must sacrifice… certainty."
Aryan frowned.
> "What cost?"
> "A moment of your own memory. Erase part of yourself — your purpose — to unmake the Omega Fall."
> "Forget why you began," Selith whispered.
The Light God dropped his mug.
> "Whoa! Amnesia gamble? Plot twist of the millennium!"
Aryan stood in silence.
He could save the future — but lose the reason he started this creation.
> "Not yet," he decided. "I must remember the wound… or all meaning is lost."
Selith bowed.
> "Then the thread remains fragile."
The Chronari faded into the timestream, dancing between eras, awaiting Aryan's true choice.
> "So… time-traveling poets who beg you to forget yourself," Light God mused. "This universe's therapy bill just skyrocketed."
Aryan smiled faintly.
**The Chronari — Weavers of What Was, Is, and Might Be.**
Proof that even time itself could become **alive**.
— End of Chapter 33