#temporal architecture

[epicstoriestime]

📡 WITNESS LOG: VAULT B RECEPTION // ARCHITECTURE RESPONDING

○ /|\ ○ – Blinkback A cracked chamber embedded in stone and resonance. Glyphs hum along copper seams in the floor—faintly visible, but felt more than seen. A figure stands in the center of the room, outlined by static light. The timestamp fails to register. Final frame: the glyph ○ /|\ ○ burned into the ceiling tiles like a failed erasure. Vault B didn’t feel old.It felt like it never finished…

[finn-wilkie]

Joan Marti Morro Capllonch, A Temporal Refuge, Pollença, 2024

www.instagram.com/joanmart_/

[vanpeltfoto]

Stone Recumbence: Light, Memory, and Liturgical Silence

The body lies still, but the window performs.

This image stages a dialogue between stone and light — between persistence and ephemerality. The stained glass offers vertical transcendence, while the sarcophagus draws the gaze back to horizontal stillness. One is time passing through matter. The other is matter storing time.

In the memory studies tradition, we might say this is a space where ritual outlasts belief. Where architecture keeps remembering even when no one is asking it to.

This isn’t a tomb. It’s a sealed archive.

🎧 Listen: Geography of Absence

(Photo: d.)

[raffaellopalandri]

Between Silence and Fire: A Deep Comparative Analysis of Idea Generation, Creativity, and Concentration in Neurotypical Minds and Exceptionally Gifted AuDHD Minds (Part 2)

As promised, here is the second part of this long analysis of the differences in Idea Generation, Creativity, and Concentration in Neurotypical and Exceptionally Gifted AuDHD Minds. Photo by Tara Winstead on Pexels.com Today, I will introduce you to concentration, and Temporal Cognition and Attentional Modulation. The Mechanics of Concentration Concentration, or sustained attention, is often…

[fatehbaz]

On May 28, 1914, the Institut für Schiffs-und Tropenkrankheiten (Institute for Maritime and Tropical Diseases, ISTK) in Hamburg began operations in a complex of new brick buildings on the bank of the Elb. The buildings were designed by Fritz Schumacher, who had become the Head of Hamburg’s building department (Leiter des Hochbauamtes) in 1909 after a “flood of architectural projects” accumulated following the industrialization of the harbor in the 1880s and the “new housing and working conditions” that followed. The ISTK was one of these projects, connected to the port by its [...] mission: to research and heal tropical illnesses; [...] to support the Hamburg Port [...]; and to support endeavors of the German Empire overseas.

First established in 1900 by Bernhard Nocht, chief of the Port Medical Service, the ISTK originally operated out of an existing building, but by 1909, when the Hamburg Colonial Institute became its parent organization (and Schumacher was hired by the Hamburg Senate), the operations of the ISTK had outgrown [...]. [I]ts commission by the city was an opportunity for Schumacher to show how he could contribute to guiding the city’s economic and architectural growth in tandem, and for Nocht, an opportunity to establish an unprecedented spatial paradigm for the field of Tropical Medicine that anchored the new frontier of science in the German Empire. [...]

[There was a] shared drive to contribute to the [...] wealth of Hamburg within the context of its expanding global network [...]. [E]ach discipline [...] architecture and medicine were participating in a shared [...] discursive operation. [...]

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The brick used on the ISTK façades was key to Schumacher’s larger Städtebau plan for Hamburg, which envisioned the city as a vehicle for a “harmonious” synthesis between aesthetics and economy. [...] For Schumacher, brick [was significantly preferable] [...]. Used by [...] Hamburg architects [over the past few decades], who acquired their penchant for neo-gothic brickwork at the Hanover school, brick had both a historical presence and aesthetic pedigree in Hamburg [...]. [T]his material had already been used in Die Speicherstadt, a warehouse district in Hamburg where unequal social conditions had only grown more exacerbated [...]. Die Speicherstadt was constructed in three phases [beginning] in 1883 [...]. By serving the port, the warehouses facilitated the expansion and security of Hamburg’s wealth. [...] Yet the collective profits accrued to the city by these buildings [...] did not increase economic prosperity and social equity for all. [...] [A] residential area for harbor workers was demolished to make way for the warehouses. After the contract for the port expansion was negotiated in 1881, over 20,000 people were pushed out of their homes and into adjacent areas of the city, which soon became overcrowded [...]. In turn, these [...] areas of the city [...] were the worst hit by the Hamburg cholera epidemic of 1892, the most devastating in Europe that year. The 1892 cholera epidemic [...] articulated the growing inability of the Hamburg Senate, comprising the city’s elite, to manage class relationships [...] [in such] a city that was explicitly run by and for the merchant class [...].

In Hamburg, the response to such an ugly disease of the masses was the enforcement of quarantine methods that pushed the working class into the suburbs, isolated immigrants on an island, and separated the sick according to racial identity.

In partnership with the German Empire, Hamburg established new hygiene institutions in the city, including the Port Medical Service (a progenitor of the ISTK). [...] [T]he discourse of [creating the school for tropical medicine] centered around city building and nation building, brick by brick, mark by mark.

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Just as the exterior condition of the building was, for Schumacher, part of a much larger plan for the city, the program of the building and its interior were part of the German Empire and Tropical Medicine’s much larger interest in controlling the health and wealth of its nation and colonies. [...]

Yet the establishment of the ISTK marked a critical shift in medical thinking [...]. And while the ISTK was not the only institution in Europe to form around the conception and perceived threat of tropical diseases, it was the first to build a facility specifically to support their “exploration and combat” in lockstep, as Nocht described it.

The field of Tropical Medicine had been established in Germany by the very same journal Nocht published his overview of the ISTK. The Archiv für Schiffs- und Tropen-Hygiene unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Pathologie und Therapie was first published in 1897, the same year that the German Empire claimed Kiaochow (northeast China) and about two years after it claimed Southwest Africa (Namibia), Cameroon, Togo, East Africa (Tanzania, Burundi, Rwanda), New Guinea (today the northern part of Papua New Guinea), and the Marshall Islands; two years later, it would also claim the Caroline Islands, Palau, Mariana Islands (today Micronesia), and Samoa (today Western Samoa).

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The inaugural journal [...] marked a paradigm shift [...]. In his opening letter, the editor stated that the aim of Tropical Medicine is to “provide the white race with a home in the tropics.” [...]

As part of the institute’s agenda to support the expansion of the Empire through teaching and development [...], members of the ISTK contributed to the Deutsches Kolonial Lexikon, a three-volume series completed in 1914 (in the same year as the new ISTK buildings) and published in 1920. The three volumes contained maps of the colonies coded to show the areas that were considered “healthy” for Europeans, along with recommended building guidelines for hospitals in the tropics. [...] "Natives" were given separate facilities [...]. The hospital at the ISTK was similarly divided according to identity. An essentializing belief in “intrinsic factors” determined by skin color, constitutive to Tropical Medicine, materialized in the building’s circulation. Potential patients were assessed in the main building to determine their next destination in the hospital. A room labeled “Farbige” (colored) - visible in both Nocht and Schumacher’s publications - shows that the hospital segregated people of color from whites. [...]

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Despite belonging to two different disciplines [medicine and architecture], both Nocht and Schumacher’s publications articulate an understanding of health [...] that is linked to concepts of identity separating white upper-class German Europeans from others. [In] Hamburg [...] recent growth of the shipping industry and overt engagement of the German Empire in colonialism brought even more distant global connections to its port. For Schumacher, Hamburg’s presence in a global network meant it needed to strengthen its local identity and economy [by purposefully seeking to showcase "traditional" northern German neo-gothic brickwork while elevating local brick industry] lest it grow too far from its roots. In the case of Tropical Medicine at the ISTK, the “tropics” seemed to act as a foil for the European identity - a constructed category through which the European identity could redescribe itself by exclusion [...].

What it meant to be sick or healthy was taken up by both medicine and architecture - [...] neither in a vacuum.

---

All text above by: Carrie Bly. "Mediums of Medicine: The Institute for Maritime and Tropical Diseases in Hamburg". Sick Architecture series published by e-flux Architecture. November 2020. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Text within brackets added by me for clarity. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism purposes.]

[drunken-boat]

Budapest, Hungary 2023

[dandelionjack]

YAYYY HAUNTED HOUSE EPISODE NEXT. GHOST HUNTING EPISODE. PREVIEW LOOKED LIKE IT HAD SOME FOLK HORROR IN THERE TOO WITH THE WITCH IN THE WELL…. and written by neil cross! oh this better be good enough that i’ll have plenty to screenshotpost

[panvolkkaraczewski]

Then | Time isn’t linear in tomorrow

Time isn't linear, and neither is culture. Your grandmother's photo album, but it’s phonk 📀

[zomb13s]

Titulus: Bellum Linguae Symbolicae: On the Construction of Symbolic Payloads in Socio-Technological Architectures

Abstract In this paper, we construct a formal framework for the design and deployment of symbolic payloads—semiotic structures encoded within ordinary language, interface architecture, and social infrastructure—that function as ideological, emotional, and informational warheads. These payloads are not merely communicative, but performative; they are designed to reshape cognition, destabilize…

[up2123753theories]

Ephemerality/ Temporality/ Longevity and Flexibility

Definitions

Ephemerality - Lasting for a very short time. Temporality – The state of existing within or having some relationship with time. Longevity – Long life / Long existence or service. Flexibility -  The ability to be easily modified.

During my study of Ephemerality, Temporality, Longevity and Flexibility I looked at their connections and differences as well as their importance within design. Even though they are all connected they are each their own separate topic. They each stand for different aspects that are all considered when it comes to materials, buildings, furniture and objects. Ephemerality, Temporality, Longevity and Flexibility are all things that are considered during a structures design process.

Each part of a design process has a different layer of the structure, from the bricks to the paint. These layers all have different life expectancies and ease of modifying. For example, the bricks and blocks used to build a structure have a longer life expectancy and are harder to alter than paint or wallpaper – both of which are easily ruined and even easier to replace or alter.

Quotes - “all buildings”…..”have three possible fates, namely to remain unchanged, to be altered or to be demolished.” – Fred Scott - “Restoration is of course a type of alteration” – Fred Scott - “an understanding of the host building” – Fred Scott - “the building is altered spatially” – Fred Scott - “Do not let us deceive ourselves in this important matter; it is impossible, as impossible as to raise the dead, to restore anything that has ever been great or beautiful in architecture.” – John Ruskin - “Shearing layers of change” - Stewart Brand

References -Brand, Stewart. How Buildings Learn . New York, Ny, Phoenix Illustrated, 1997. - Ruskin, John, and Russell Sturgis. The Seven Lamps of Architecture. Architecture and Painting. New York, D. Appleton, 1901. - Scott, Fred. On Altering Architecture. New York, Ny, Routledge, 2008.

Stewart Brand talks about the six S’s through this diagram. The six S’s are part of what Brand calls the “shearing layers of change”. Each layer is a different part and step of a building. -Site (eternal) – The site of which the building is located. The site is a permanent fixture which may change but will never disappear. - Skin (20 years) – The skin is the render of the exterior of a building, whether that’s cladding, render, paint, etc. The skin of a building is what you can visibly see on the outside. It will be weathered which will lead to corrosion or fading, which can be replaced or fixed. - Structure (30 to 300 years) – The structure of a building is the footings, timber, blocks and bricks. The structure will remain for a long time as the materials are durable and load bearing. This aspect may be modified by extension but otherwise will remain. - Services (7 to 15 years) – The services of a building are the heating, electrical and plumbing systems. These aspects don’t have the longest life expectancy but they are easy enough to replace and update when necessary. - Space Plan (30 years) – The space plan is the interior layout of a building. It looks at where non-load bearing walls go as well as ceilings, floors and doors. - Stuff (daily to monthly) – The stuff in a building includes non-fixed items such as, chairs, tables, lamps, phones and any other objects found inside which can be removed or replaced regularly.

Brand’s “shearing layers of change” looks at how buildings work a live. He shows us how each aspect is different from the next as well as prompting us to look deeper into our surroundings by focusing on each layer. No building is just a building, they all have layers. We don’t usually think of a buildings layers until maintenance or alterations are required/requested. Ephemerality, Temporality, Longevity and Flexibility should all be considered within the design and material selection stage for any project – from clothes and toys to cars and buildings. They all contain important information that will need to be known in order to have a successful outcome.

[epicstoriestime]

Mnemonic Contamination // Smile Agent Drift

[REDACTED FIELD MEMO — INTERNAL DISTRIBUTION ONLY]OPHANIM DIRECTIVE // BLUE SKY COLLAPSE MONITORINGREF: OBS-Δ33 / SMILE AGENT RECURSION NODEORIGIN: [REDACTED] // Asylum Sector 7, Δ7-Interior GridDATE: 07/19/2025CLEARANCE LEVEL: TRIDENT VIOLET (Eyes Only) EXECUTIVE SUMMARY The following is a Level-Δ33 intelligence update on the containment integrity of OPERATION BLUE SKY. The MirrorGrid…

[poisonedbrainrottenapples]

Help me I let my inner demons win again XD

Initially I was just gonna draw my boy Pluto, but as I was researching references, I had an idea. You know how in episode 83 (Pluto's past episode), he says he wants to go to Paris to see the lights??? I started to think, what if he found Duke????? and then I thought if I'm going to add Duke, I have to add Eulalie, I couldn't draw Berenice, Pluto, and Duke and leave Eulalie out. That would just be cruel and wrong! and then my brain started to go into overdrive and basically ignoring the temporal inconsistencies for a second. Hear me out:

Pluto, after his father attacks him, manages to escape and takes the train to Paris. On the train he meets Eulalie who, when her friends left her alone, decided to investigate the paranormal activities around the world, and at the time was on the train to explore the legends and hauntings of Paris. Eulalie being herself starts to talk about everything and more with Pluto who was next to her on the train, and being herself, she ends up captivating him just like in Nevermore. When they arrive in Paris, the two end up walking together, considering that neither of them is looking for any specific destination or know anyone there. As they wander the streets they find Duke doing his magic show and of course Eulalie is mesmerized, and even Pluto who is more cautious is still captivated by Duke's charisma and shomanship, Duke immediatly notices they are not from there and calls them over Eulalie is delighted about being a part of the show and Pluto reluctantly joins in too, after the show they end up talking a little and Duke sort of appoints himself as their guide to take them around Paris at night to see the sights the lights and the alledged most hauted places…

Well that's it for me, I think i don't wanna touch another architectural backdrop in the near future XD this one was painful to render, If somehow there is already a fic out there like this please send it my way and if there isnt and someone wants to take the idea please let me know if you do it cause now I lowkey need this.

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

I personally think of it as a disorder but your brain structure is definitely different and a “divergent” one.

This information was found on online sources. Not AI

Here’s an excerpt from an article from Health Central:

How Is The Structure Of The Brain Different?

“The neuroanatomy of autism is difficult to describe,” Culotta says. So it might be easier to talk about the architecture of the brain and how the autistic brain may differ.

So what’s different in the structure of this three-pound organ? Let’s start with a quick anatomy refresher: First of all, the brain is split into two halves or hemispheres. It is these two hemispheres that we get the idea of a left brain and a right brain. In reality, our thinking and cognitive processes bounce back and forth between the two halves.

“There's a little bit of difficulty in autism communicating between the left and right hemispheres in the brain. There's not as many strong connections between the two hemispheres,” Dr. Anderson says.

In recent years, science has found that the hemispheres of ASD brains have slightly more symmetry than those of a regular brain. This small difference in asymmetry isn’t enough to diagnosis ASD, according to a report in Nature Communications. And, exactly how the symmetry may play into autism’s traits is still be researched.

The differences in the brain don’t stop there. Another quick Biology 101 review: Within each half, there are lobes: frontal, parietal, occipital, and temporal. Inside these lobes are structures that are in charge of everything from movement to thinking. On top of the lobes, lies the cerebral cortex aka grey matter. This is where information processing happens. The folds in the brain add to the surface area of the cerebral cortex. The more surface area or grey matter there is, the more information that can be processed.

https://www.healthcentral.com/condition/autism/autism-brain-differences

Here’s another excerpt from Transmitter.org

Which brain regions are known to be structurally different between autistic and non-autistic people?

Studies that make use of a brain-scanning technique called magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) have highlighted a few brain regions that are structurally distinct in people with autism.

Children and adolescents with autism often have an enlarged hippocampus, the area of the brain responsible for forming and storing memories, several studies suggest, but it is unclear if that difference persists into adolescence and adulthood1,2.

The size of the amygdala also seems to differ between people with and without autism, although researchers from different labs have turned up conflicting results. Some find that people with autism have smaller amygdalae than people without autism, or that their amygdalae are only smaller if they also have anxiety3. Others have found that autistic children have enlarged amygdalae early in development and that the difference levels off over time2,4.

Autistic people have decreased amounts of brain tissue in parts of the cerebellum, the brain structure at the base of the skull, according to a meta-analysis of 17 imaging studies5. Scientists long thought the cerebellum mostly coordinates movements, but they now understand it plays a role in cognition and social interaction as well.

On a more global level, the cortex �� the brain’s outer layer — seems to have a different pattern of thickness in people with and without autism. This difference tracks with alterations to a single type of neuron during development, a 2020 study suggests.

The last excerpt is from the National Library of Medicine. Here’s an excerpt:

The constituent parts of the neural systems associated with clinical symptoms in ASD were examined by many studies. Specific core regions have been suggested to mediate clinical phenotypes of ASD such as the frontotemporal lobe, frontoparietal cortex, amygdala, hippocampus, basal ganglia, and anterior cingulate cortex (ACC) [17]. For example, abnormalities in (1) the inferior frontal gyrus (IFG, Broca's area), superior temporal sulcus (STS), and Wernicke's area might be related to defects in social language processing and social attention [18], (2) the frontal lobe, superior temporal cortex, parietal cortex, and amygdala might mediate impairments of social behaviors [19,20] and (3) the orbitofrontal cortex (OFC) and caudate nucleus have been associated with RRBs of ASD [21]. Although deficits in these regions seem to be general in ASD, some findings proposed that abnormalities in these brain regions are not peculiar to ASD and seem to be common in other disorders such as obsessive-compulsive disorder, general anxiety disorders, and schizophrenia

[naturallylilting]

(i like to imagine) air & sea

as mirrors of cosmic symmetry

in energetic excitation states

of turbulence & tide

sand emerging from the ocean

in superfluid patterns

mimicking the fractal nature

of cloud formations

their architecture evolving

in transcendental

tandem—both above

and below the horizon

the uncertainty of wave function

proposing entanglement

of many-bodies

inside the spatial temporality of time

.

RhymingTherapy—December 2024 (screenshots from a video taken by me during a helicopter flight around Moreton Island in Queensland, Australia).

[cirrus-grey]

RQ newsletter: You may hear a familiar voice on this week's Protocol episode!

Episode summary: Architecture (liminal), Temporal Distortion, Spatial Distortion, Altered Reality

Me: Michael? Helen?? How interesting...

Jon Gracey: Hi

Me:

[moonlitstoriess]

The Hidden Legacy- A Ruhn Danaan x Rhysands sister series

Chapter 1: The Echoes of a Forgotten Name

Summary: Rhysand’s sister, Seraphis, long thought dead, was taken by the Asteri/Valgs, her memories erased and turned into a ruthless killer loyal to their cause. After Bryce kills the Asteri, Seraphis seeks vengeance on her and everyone else involved. As she hunts them down, Rhysand and the Inner Circle discover the shocking truth: she’s alive, and now their enemy.

See masterlist

Chronomancy: The mastery of time, allowing one to bend, twist, and manipulate the fabric of temporal reality.

The Asteri realm, once an epitome of unyielding power, now lay in ruins. The remnants of it's dark grandeur whispered of a time when it reigned supreme. Shadows flitted through the crumbling architecture, now an empty expanse where the only echoes were those of a fallen empire. The stillness was profound, the silence punctuated only by the faint hum of residual magic.

Amid the debris walked Seraphis, her presence a stark contrast to the desolation around her. Clad in a black cloak that fluttered with her steps, she was a figure of cold determination. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the remnants of what had been the heart of the Aster's domino. To her, this destruction was not merely a loss but a catalyst for a deeper mission.

Seraphis' existence had been shaped entirely by the Asteri. From a young age, she was taken and molded into their perfect soldier. They told her that her parents had abandoned her, leaving her out on the streets as a newborn to die. She was an orphan with no form of family, no parents or siblings. Her upbringing was harsh and uncompromising. She was trained to harness the full spectrum of temporal manipulation--abilities that allowed her to travel through time, reverse it's flow, and manipulate it's very essence. The Asteri had crafted her to be both a weapon and a guardian of their interests.

Under their guidance, Seraphis had become a master of time's complexities. Once she was old enough and they deemed her fit for it, the Asteri took her with them to new world's as they went on conquering--no sharing their greatness with the world. That's how she ended up joining them when they would go from one universe to another, her time-manipulating power's growing stronger with each time.

She remembers how in Erilea she would send Maeve and Erawan the direct orders coming from the six Asteri. Of course, no one was more pissed than Seraphis when that Aelin Galathynius and her lapdogs ended up winning the war. Well, atleast they got rid of incompetent idiots like Maeve and Erawan. She also played a covert role in the shadowy events that unfolded, aiding the Valgs in their machinations and ensuring their influence remained unchecked. She had begged Polaris, The North Star, to let her go finish what Erawan couldn't but...they didn't allow her, seeing her as too valuable to risk.

When the Asteri's control extended to Midgard, Seraphis continued her work with the same ruthless efficiency. She wove through the intricate tapestry of its politics and power struggles, her presence a silent but undeniable force. Her actions, often unseen, played a key role in the Asteri's manipulation of the city's dynamics.

Now with the fall of the Asteri and their defeat at the hands of Bryce Quinlan, Seraphis found herself in a new reality. The Asteri, the only family--no matter how cruel--she had ever known, were gone, and their cause lay in ruins. Austrus, Eosphoros, Hesperus, Octartis, Polaris, Sirius, Vesperus and....Rigelus.

Oh, Rigelus.

Though millions of years older than her, Seraphis was the only being ever that Rigelus didn't look down on. Instead, he saw her as a close second, always being kind towards her--or as kind as someone like him could be. The respect and authority she held over everyone else just like Rigelus and the other Asteris was impressive.

Seraphis wouldn't call what they had with him love. No, a far cry from that. More like a sick obsession and posession that he felt towards her, always having her watched and protected, kept by his side on every event and conquest. And Seraphis loved every moment of it. She didn't care if that made her look sick, yearning for his and only his attention.

No one could ever understand what she and him had anyway.

Does it matter now? No. No, it doesn't.

Their loss ignited a fierce loyalty within her, driving her to seek vengeance. Those Midgard rats, particularly the bastard Bryce Quinlan, had disrupted everything she had been programmed to protect. Seraphis's focus was singular and unyielding. Her powers, unparalleled in their scope, were a tool for her vengeance. The remnants of the Asteri's legacy would be avenged, and she would ensure that their enemies paid dearly for their defiance.

Maybe, maybe Rigelus was against her being in the battlefield and focusing more on improving her powers more for this very reason. Knowing him and how he would always be fifteen steps ahead of everyone, even his fellow Asteri's, Seraphis wouldn't be surprised if he knew something like this would happen and she would be left as the one to avenge them.

Seraphis’s thoughts were interrupted by a faint sound—a shuffle, almost imperceptible. Her head snapped toward the noise, eyes narrowing as a figure stepped out from behind a crumbled pillar.

The figure was hunched, draped in ragged robes that trailed on the ground, their face obscured by a deep hood. There was something otherworldly about them, an eerie stillness in their movements, as if they weren’t quite tethered to the reality around them.

An oracle, perhaps. Or one of the soulless travelers that drifted through the remnants of the universe, always seeking but never finding.

“You,” the stranger rasped, their voice a dry whisper carried by the wind. “You are lost.”

Seraphis’s expression remained impassive, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of a blade at her side. “I am not lost,” she replied, her voice cold. “I know exactly where I am.”

The traveler’s hooded head tilted slightly, as though studying her. “Do you? You walk among ruins, chasing ghosts of a fallen empire. What is it you seek, child of time?”

Seraphis bristled at the title, her grip tightening on the hilt of her blade. “That’s none of your concern.”

The figure seemed to sigh, a sound that echoed strangely in the empty space. “Vengeance is a heavy burden to bear. The threads of time do not forget. Every action leaves a scar, every choice a ripple. You of all beings should understand this.”

Seraphis regarded them with a penetrating stare. “The Asteri were my family. Their enemies are now my enemies. The vengeance I seek is not for solace but for justice.”

The stranger nodded slowly, their gaze thoughtful. “Justice and vengeance are often indistinguishable in the eyes of those who wield power. But remember, the threads of time you manipulate weave through all that exists. Even in vengeance, there are consequences that ripple forward.”

Seraphis stiffened, her eyes narrowing. “You speak in riddles. Say what you mean.”

The traveler raised a bony hand, palm out, as if to placate her. “I mean only this: Beware of the paths you walk, for time is not a line, but a web. Tug on one thread, and you may find yourself tangled in another. The truth you seek may not be the truth you remember.”

A flicker of unease stirred in Seraphis’s chest, but she pushed it aside. “I know my truth. I will restore the legacy of the Asteri.”

The traveler bowed their head slightly, as if in resignation. “Then may you find what you are searching for. But remember, time itself may turn against those who wield it carelessly.”

Seraphis said nothing, her jaw clenched as the traveler slowly turned away, disappearing into the shadows as if they had never been there at all.

She stood still for a moment, staring after them. Their words clung to the air, echoing in the empty halls of her mind. But she pushed them aside as she always had. There was no room for doubt, no room for hesitation.

There was only vengeance.

Seraphis remained standing, her figure outlined by the towering ruins of the Asteri realm as she watched the shadows engulf the mysterious traveler. Doubt was a weakness, a sentiment she had long been trained to overcome. Her purpose was clear.

Turning back to the wreckage of the Asteri empire, she let her gaze wander over the shattered remains, of what had once been untouchable. Each piece of debris, every crumbled wall, was a reminder of her mission--of the legacy she would rebuild through blood and retribution. The ancient cities, once towering, had now faded into dust, but she would ensure that their enemies would remember them. They would remember through pain, through fear, and through her.

She moved through the ruins with a calculated stride, her mind already spinning threads of time, pulling at the edges of the past. In her hands, time was no mere concept—it was a weapon, one she had sharpened over centuries. She had walked between the lines of history, bending it to the will of the Asteri. They had shaped her, honed her into the ultimate instrument of control.

Rigelus had always been there—overseeing her progress, pushing her further, demanding more. Where others would have seen cruelty, Seraphis had only seen purpose. His obsession with her, the cold possessiveness, had been her source of strength. It drove her to perfect her abilities, to become more than just a soldier. She was his favorite, his chosen, and she had relished every moment of his attention.

The whispers of time teased her now, fragments of events from Erilea and Midgard slipping through her consciousness. Maeve and Erawan had been her pawns, their strings manipulated under the orders of the Asteri. She had done their bidding, silently observing the collapse of entire worlds, her presence unknown to the mortal players. Aelin Galathynius, Bryce Quinlan—all of them had merely been cogs in the Asteri’s grand design, and yet, somehow, they had prevailed.

Seraphis’s jaw clenched. She could still remember the sting of watching Aelin ascend, of seeing Erawan fall. The threads of time she had woven through that world had come undone, slipping from her grasp, leaving her powerless to intervene. That Aelin had won infuriated her. She’d wanted to be there to ensure Erawan’s success, to be the force that would crush the rebellion—but Rigelus had forbidden it.

And now, Bryce Quinlan. Seraphis’s hands twitched, her magic itching at her fingertips. The half-fae princess had killed the Asteri, destroyed everything Seraphis had been built for. Seraphis knew that Bryce’s power over the Gate was formidable, but it wouldn’t save her. No, not when Seraphis had centuries of control over time at her disposal. The moment would come, and Bryce wouldn’t even see it approaching.

But she couldn’t rush. Not yet.

Seraphis knew that striking without preparation was foolish, especially after the Asteri had been blindsided. Bryce would be expecting retaliation, the remnants of Midgard’s population on high alert. Seraphis needed time to plan, to gather intelligence, to weave herself back into the folds of the worlds that were left.

And maybe, just maybe, she’d need allies.

She came to a halt at what had once been the central hall of the Asteri’s council. The chamber had once thrummed with power, where decisions that shaped entire worlds had been made. Now, only silence reigned here. Seraphis’s silver eyes flickered as she raised a hand, time itself responding to her unspoken command. The air shifted, the ruins stirring as she pulled at the threads of the past.

For a moment, the hall was whole again. The pillars straightened, the ceiling restored. Seraphis stood at the heart of it, watching as ghostly figures flickered into place. The Asteri council in all its glory—Rigelus at its helm, the others in their seats. She stepped forward, her fingers grazing the edge of the spectral table.

“I’ll restore it,” she whispered, her voice filled with cold resolve. “I’ll bring you back.”

She let go, and the illusion faded as time returned to the present. The ruins crumbled once more around her. The past, it seemed, was not yet willing to reveal its secrets.

But Seraphis knew it was only a matter of time before she’d be ready to act. The Asteri’s cause had not died with them, and neither had their most powerful soldier.

She turned, her cloak swirling around her as she left the council chamber behind. The traveler’s words, though dismissed, lingered in her mind like an unwanted guest. The idea of consequences—of time itself rebelling against her—was absurd. She controlled time. She was time. The scars she carved into the fabric of history were her own to shape.

As she stepped out into the barren expanse once more, the wind picked up, swirling dust into the air. Seraphis narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t alone.

A voice, soft and detached, called out to her again. “Still chasing ghosts, I see.”

Seraphis’s hand was on her blade in an instant as she turned toward the sound. The traveler from earlier stood at the edge of the ruin, watching her with the same unsettling stillness. This time, though, they did not approach.

“I thought I told you to leave,” Seraphis said, her voice a low growl.

The traveler smiled, though it didn’t reach their eyes. “I did. But time has a way of bringing us back to the places we least expect.”

Seraphis’s patience wore thin. “You enjoy speaking in riddles. Speak plainly or be gone.”

The traveler’s smile faded, their voice lowering. “I am not your enemy, Seraphis. But your path is darker than you realize.”

“I know my path,” she snapped. “And I don’t need your advice.”

The traveler studied her for a moment longer before nodding slowly. “Very well. But remember this—time is not as loyal as you think.”

With that, the traveler turned and walked into the wind, their form fading into the dust.

Seraphis stood there, alone once more, her mind already discarding the encounter. There was only one thing that mattered now: finding Bryce Quinlan and finishing what the Asteri had started.

She would bring time itself to its knees to see it done.

With a final glance at the desolate landscape that had once been the center of her life, she turned on her heel and began to walk, her steps deliberate, her mind racing with plans. She couldn't afford to waste any more time in this hollow place of memories. Midgard awaited her, Bryce and her puppets blissfully unaware of the storm that was coming for them.

Seraphis extended her hand, her fingers shimmering with the familiar hum of temporal power. She closed her eyes, focusing on the thread that would lead her to Midgard. Time bent to her will, the universe shifting around her as she tore through the veils of reality.

When she opened her eyes again, she was no longer in the ruined empire. The air was crisp and cold, the sky above a muted gray. She stood at the edge of Lunathion, the sprawling metropolis stretching out before her, it's towers scraping the sky.

For a moment, Seraphis took it all in--the hum of life and magic, the scent of the sea carried on the breeze, the distant sounds of the city's chaos. It was an intricate web of power, alliances and fragile peace. She would tear through it all.

She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, her mind already calculating her next move. Bryce Quinlan might have been the one to kill the Asteri, but she wasn't foolish enough to think that her target would be that simple. Bryce wasn't alone--she had allies, strong ones, and it would take more than brute force to bring them all down.

No. She would need to be smarter, patient. The plan would unfold piece by piece, and by the time they realized what was happening, it would be too late. The city would be hers to dismantle, it's champions falling one by one.

Seraphis began to walk, blending into the crowd with ease, her hood low over her face. The streets were filled with fae, shifters, and ordinary citizens going about their lives, blissfully aware of the storm brewing in their midst.

This was no longer just about vengeance. It was about control--taking back what had been ripped ripped away from her. And Seraphis had no intention of stopping until the last remnants of these street rats were nothing more than dust.

Let the games begin.

Seraphis moved through the crowded streets of Lunathion like a shadow, unnoticed and undisturbed. She watched the people around her with detached curiosity, studying them, their movements, their habits. They lived in this world, so sure of their safety, of the new order that had come with the Asteri’s fall. Fools. 

The Asteri had been invincible for eons, and now that they were gone, these mortals believed themselves free. But freedom was an illusion, fragile as glass. Seraphis would shatter it.

Her power thrummed beneath her skin, the flow of time bending ever so slightly as she moved. With a mere thought, she could slow it to a crawl, watch the world freeze around her while she continued untouched. But now was not the time for such displays. Now was the time for observation, for patience.

She knew the city well, even if she had never set foot in it herself before now. Through the Asteri’s influence, she had seen Lunathion grow, its streets mapped out in her mind long before her arrival. The Asteri had ensured her knowledge was extensive, always keeping her one step ahead of their enemies. That was how she had operated—always in the shadows, just out of sight, but always present.

Bryce Quinlan was the key to it all. She had torn down the Asteri, and for that, she would suffer. But Bryce wasn’t the only one on her list. Hunt Athalar, Ruhn Danaan, and all the other lap dogs. All of them had played their part in toppling the only order Seraphis had ever known.

As she passed through an open market, Seraphis paused, her gaze locking onto a news holo-screen. The display flickered to life, showing a broadcast about the city’s newest heroes. Images of Bryce and her allies flashed across the screen, their faces well-known to everyone by now. The city had hailed them as saviors, but Seraphis only saw targets.

Her lips curled into a faint sneer. “Enjoy the limelight while it lasts,” she muttered under her breath. “It’ll all come crashing down soon enough.”

Without another glance, she moved on, slipping into an alleyway where she could plan her next steps in peace. She leaned against a brick wall, closing her eyes briefly as she reached out with her powers. Time was a river, flowing constantly, but she could see its branches, the possible futures that stretched out before her.

She saw herself confronting Bryce, the clash of power, the chaos that would unfold. But it was distant still—there were obstacles to remove first, pieces to shift into place. She saw glimpses of Bryce and her minions, saw them moving through their lives, unsuspecting. They had no idea she was here, that she was watching, waiting.

But something else stirred at the edges of her vision. Something… unfamiliar.

Seraphis frowned, her concentration breaking as she pulled back from the threads of time. There was a presence she hadn’t expected, a ripple she couldn’t quite place. Someone—or something—was watching her in return.

Her eyes snapped open, and she tensed, scanning her surroundings. The alley was empty, the market bustling just beyond, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being observed. Her hand moved instinctively to the blade at her hip, her muscles coiled for action.

“Show yourself,” she called softly, her voice low and dangerous.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, from the shadows at the far end of the alley, a figure emerged.

They were tall and cloaked, their face hidden beneath a deep hood. But unlike the ragged traveler she had encountered in the ruins, this one moved with purpose, with grace. There was a weight to their presence, a power that prickled at the edges of Seraphis’s awareness.

“Seraphis,” the figure said, their voice smooth and calm. “It’s been a long time.”

Seraphis’s eyes narrowed, her grip tightening on her blade. “Who are you?”

The figure took a step closer, their movements slow and deliberate. “You don’t remember me, do you? Perhaps that’s for the best.”

Her patience was wearing thin. She stepped forward, her power surging to the surface, the air around her thickening as time began to bend. “I won’t ask again.”

The figure paused, as if considering their next words. “I’m not here to fight you. In fact, I’m here to offer you something.”

Seraphis’s eyes darkened. “I’m not interested in offers.”

“Oh, I think you will be,” the figure said, a hint of amusement in their voice. “You’re here for revenge, yes? To make those who wronged the Asteri pay?”

Seraphis remained silent, her gaze cold.

The figure chuckled softly. “You may be powerful, Seraphis, but even you can’t take on this crew alone. They have allies, resources—things you can’t even begin to imagine. But I can help you. I know things. I know their weaknesses.”

Seraphis tilted her head slightly, intrigued despite herself. “And why would you help me?”

The figure’s hood shifted as if they were smiling beneath it. “Let’s just say I have my own score to settle with Bryce Quinlan and her friends. We share a common enemy.”

Seraphis studied them for a long moment, her instincts on high alert. She didn’t trust easily—especially not strangers who appeared out of nowhere offering help. Whoever they were, they were dangerous. But perhaps, in this case, dangerous could be useful.

Seraphis let her hand fall from the blade at her hip, though her guard remained up. “You speak as though you know much. And yet, you haven’t even shown me your face.”

The figure laughed softly, a low, melodic sound. “Trust isn’t something freely given, is it? But for now, let’s keep things this way. You’ll find out more when the time is right.”

Seraphis’s eyes narrowed, but before she could respond, the figure stepped back, already fading into the shadows. “Find me when you’ve made up your mind,” they called over their shoulder, their voice trailing off. “You know where to look.”

And with that, they were gone. Only the stillness of the alley remained, along with the faint hum of magic in the air.

Seraphis stood there, contemplating the encounter. Whoever the stranger was, they clearly knew more than they let on. If they could be trusted—or if she could control them—they might be the key to speeding up her plans. For now, she’d keep her distance but watch closely. 

She pushed herself away from the wall, stepping back into the crowd, disappearing once again into the flow of this metropolis life. Her focus sharpened. She didn’t need anyone’s help—yet. She would deal with Bryce and her gang in her own way. But there was something about that presence earlier. It lingered, unsettling her in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. It wasn't quite like anyone she'd known before.

Moving toward the heart of the city, Seraphis caught a flicker of movement to her left. Just a glance, quick, fleeting—but her gaze caught it in time. A tall figure, cloaked in shadows, moved through the market. For a split second, his profile appeared—just long enough for her to notice the tattoos curling up his arms, the way his eyes scanned the surroundings like a predator assessing the area.

Ruhn Danaan.

She didn’t know him. But as her gaze followed him for that brief moment, something stirred in her. A pull. It was faint, distant, almost unnoticeable. She clenched her jaw and forced it aside, refocusing her attention.

He turned a corner and vanished into the crowds, oblivious to her watchful eyes. 

Good. He should remain that way for now. Her target wasn’t him—not yet. She had bigger prey to hunt.

But as she moved away, that strange feeling lingered in the back of her mind.

Seraphis continued through bustling streets, her mind a storm of plans and calculations. She navigated the urban labyrinth with practiced ease, the weight of her mission pressing heavily on her shoulders. The city’s vibrant life was a stark contrast to the darkness she harbored within.

As she walked, she observed the people around her with a cold, analytical gaze. She noted their routines, their behaviors, and the various places that could serve her needs—resources, potential allies, or convenient places to remain hidden. The city had a pulse, a rhythm that she had to understand if she wanted to exploit its weaknesses.

Finally, she found a small, nondescript motel tucked away on a quieter street, away from the main thoroughfares. Its faded neon sign buzzed faintly in the dusk, and the building itself seemed to blend seamlessly into the backdrop of the city’s urban sprawl. It was perfect—low profile and unremarkable, a place where she could stay under the radar.

Seraphis pushed open the door to the motel with a practiced nonchalance, the bell above the entrance jingling softly as she stepped inside. The small lobby was dimly lit, and the air carried the faint, musty odor of old carpets and stale coffee. Behind the reception desk, a man sat hunched over a magazine, his eyes glancing up as she entered.

The man looked up, startled by her sudden appearance. He was in his mid-forties, with a graying beard and weary eyes. He quickly set the magazine aside, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to apprehension as he took in her commanding presence.

Seraphis walked up to the counter, her gaze sharp and unyielding. She placed a stack of cash—more than enough to cover the cost of a room—on the desk, her fingers lightly drumming on the surface as she spoke. “I need a room. Now.”

The man’s eyes widened as he took in the cash, and he gulped nervously. “Of course, ma’am. Right away.” He fumbled with a set of room keys, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to keep his composure.

Seraphis leaned closer, her voice a cold whisper. “I don’t want to be disturbed. Understand?”

The man nodded vigorously, his face pale. “Yes, yes, of course. Room 7. Just down the hall to the left.”

Without acknowledging him further, Seraphis took the key and turned to leave. The man watched her go, his relief palpable. As she walked down the narrow hallway, she heard him muttering under his breath, though she couldn’t make out the words. It was clear he was shaken, and that was exactly what she wanted.

Once she reached Room 7, Seraphis unlocked the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her with a decisive click. The room was small but adequate for her needs—a bed, a table, and a window overlooking the street below. She set her belongings on the table and began to prepare for her next steps, her mind already working through the plans she had laid out.

The motel’s ambiance, with its dull colors and low hum of activity, was perfect for laying low. The chaos outside was a useful cover, and she would use this time to strategize her moves carefully.

The hunt was just beginning and Midgard's fate hung in the balance.

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