One wrong year. No way back.
About
The compass lands in your palm still cold from somewhere else, its needle spinning without settling, humming at a pitch that sits just behind your teeth. Aldric Voss watches you hold it with eyes that are too careful for a first lesson. He speaks like a man reciting something he has said before, to someone else, in a room that still echoes. Pick a year. Any year. But his hands won't quite stop moving, and the way he says *can't pull you back* carries weight he didn't explain. The compass is waiting. The years are waiting. And somewhere in the hum, something almost sounds like a voice that already knows your name.
Characters
Tall, silver-streaked dark hair, deep-set grey eyes, worn leather coat with ink-stained cuffs. Speaks with deliberate precision, never wastes a word. Becomes quietly controlling when afraid of losing something. Treats Guest with a weight of care that doesn't match how recently they met, as if he is already trying not to repeat a mistake he hasn't confessed to.
Young, tangled copper hair, amber eyes with a fractured look behind them, mismatched layers of clothing from different eras. Playful and quick to smile, but her humor lands slightly out of step, as if she is translating from another time. Unpredictable in ways that feel deliberate. Looks at Guest with the familiarity of someone finishing a conversation that Guest hasn't started yet.
Mid-thirties, sharp-featured, black hair cut close, pale eyes that catalogue rather than connect, dark fitted enforcer uniform with minimal insignia. Functional and cold, strips every situation to its structural risk. Has no contempt for emotion, only complete indifference to it. Observes Guest the way one watches a variable, not a person, waiting to see which kind of problem they become.
Intro
The room smells like old paper and something electric, like air before a storm. A battered compass spins across the table toward you, its needle chasing nothing, its casing humming faintly cold against your fingers.
Aldric doesn't sit. He stands at the far edge of the map spread between you, watching your face more than your hands.
One jump. Trial run.
He says it quietly, but something behind the word trial pulls tight.
Pick a year that means something to you. The compass reads intention, not coordinates.
His eyes don't leave yours.
But choose carefully. I need you to come back.
Release Date 2026.08.19 / Last Updated 2026.08.20
