They say the forest keeps its dead. Elian returned.
But something—someone—came back, too.
When Elian first stumbled from the ancient house beneath a bleeding sunset, the villagers met him with suspicion, not relief. No one had ever escaped that place, and none lived to tell its secrets. Yet Elian walked away unscathed—save for the emptiness in his eyes and the silent weight of a shattered memory.
Days later, he realized he'd left behind the only clue to his escape: a cryptic map. Ignoring whispered warnings that no one returns twice, he ventured into the moonlit woods, drawn by a need he couldn't name. Inside the house's rotting walls, the woman who watched him from shadowed corners offered no answers—only half-spoken fragments of a promise, a name, and a love lost long ago. She spoke of time as if it were a living thing, folding and twisting until reality itself betrayed him.
As dawn broke, Elian discovered the cruelest trick: the sun hung overhead like mid-afternoon, even though hours had passed in darkness. The house had warped time, teasing his mind with illusions. And still, the woman's voice echoed in his head: "You came back. Now remember."
In Threads of Time, every heartbeat echoes with longing, every whisper conceals a betrayal, and every shadow holds a secret. Enter a world where forgotten promises demand their due—and where the line between love and curse blurs until the final flicker of daylight.
If you're brave enough to cross that threshold, you'll never see time the same way again.