It was snowing again.
Not gently—no, this snow fell with the weight of memory. Thick, silent flakes drifted down from a gray sky that didn't belong to the season. They shimmered faintly as they touched the ground, dissolving into motes of light that flickered like dying stars.
Retro blinked against the cold wind, his breath visible in the air. The moment felt wrong—familiar, but wrong. The forest was gone. The cabin was gone.
All that surrounded him now was an endless field of white.
He turned his head. Lea stood beside him, her fur bristling against the frost, confusion in her wide eyes.
Lea: "Dad… this isn't the redwoods. What—what is this place?"
Retro didn't answer immediately. He crouched down, grabbing a handful of snow. It melted against his palm with a faint hum of mana, not water. Temporal frost, he realized. Not natural—this was time itself crystallized.
Retro (quietly): "No… this can't be happening again."
The wind howled.
Somewhere in the distance, a child's laughter echoed through the snow.
Lea's ears flicked up instantly. "Did you hear that?"
Retro's expression hardened. His grip tightened slightly on his spectral sword as he rose to his feet. "Yeah… I've heard it before."
He stepped forward, boots crunching against the frost as the sound grew clearer—laughter, mixed with voices he hadn't heard in years.
And then he saw it.
The outline of an old mansion rising from the mist. Its windows glowed with a pale blue light, its gates half buried under snow.
Lea gasped softly. "That… that looks ancient."
Retro's voice dropped, low and rough. "It is. This was the Ghost Mansion. The night Atlas nearly lost Nexus."
Lea turned to him, eyes wide. "Wait—you've been here?"
He nodded, never breaking his focus. "I remember every scream. Every step through that place. This was one of the worst nights we faced."
A flicker of movement caught his eye near the gate. A small figure stood there—barefoot, wrapped in ragged clothes, his hair messy, dark, and snow-dusted. He couldn't have been older than ten.
Retro froze. The world seemed to stop moving.
Retro (softly): "Nexus…"
Lea blinked, stunned. "Wait—that's him? That's Nexus?"
Retro didn't respond. His voice caught in his throat.
It wasn't possible. Nexus was grown—nineteen now, hardened by war and time. But here he was again, small, lost, frightened. The way he'd been that night.
Lea (whispering): "He looks so… little."
Retro started forward, but stopped halfway. Every instinct told him this wasn't real—just another illusion, another trick from the looping snow. Still… it felt real. The cold bit into his skin. The heartbeat pounding in his ears was real.
He looked around—everything was exactly as it had been years ago. The broken fence. The half-buried lanterns. The faint, ghostly figures flickering through the snow like echoes from another time.
Retro (muttering): "We're not in the present anymore. This is a time echo… the same event, replaying itself."
Lea: "Then what do we do?"
Retro: "We watch. We remember. And if we can… maybe we change it."
The child-Nexus turned suddenly, as if he'd heard them. His eyes—bright, violet, and filled with fear—locked onto Retro's.
Young Nexus: "Help… please."
The words echoed unnaturally, bending the air around them. Lea clutched Retro's arm. "He can see us?"
Retro's face darkened. "That's not supposed to happen."
The snow thickened, turning almost blinding.
And beneath the swirling flakes, faint laughter began to echo again—deeper this time, layered and hollow.
The mansion's doors creaked open.
A shadow spilled out across the snow.
Retro (low): "No… not again."
He stepped in front of Lea, his aura flaring faintly despite the distortion.
The sky above began to fracture, pieces of light falling like shards of glass. Time itself was collapsing inward, replaying, merging the past with the present.
Retro: "Lea, whatever happens—don't touch anything. This place isn't real, but it can still hurt you."
Lea nodded nervously, her breath forming clouds in the freezing air. "Then what about him?" She pointed to young Nexus, who was slowly backing toward the open mansion doors.
Retro exhaled sharply, gripping his sword tighter. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."
The snow howled again—like a scream trapped in eternity.
And just like before, the doors of the mansion closed, sealing the boy inside.
Retro's eyes hardened.
Retro: "Round two, then."
He turned toward Lea, his tone calmer, controlled.
"Stay close, kiddo. The ghosts here don't care what timeline you come from."
Lea drew her small blade, ears flat. "I'm not leaving you, Dad."
The two stepped through the threshold—
and the world behind them froze solid.
The snow fell without sound.
Each flake glittered faintly like falling ash, glowing for a heartbeat before melting into nothing.
Retro and Lea stood before the mansion gates—massive, cold, half-buried in frost.
The moon above looked cracked, split into fragments that hung like shards of glass in the clouds.
Retro's breath fogged in the air. "Stay behind me."
Lea nodded, though her eyes stayed fixed on the towering doors ahead.
The moment they stepped forward, the ground trembled. The doors creaked open—not wide, just enough to invite them in.
And the world changed.
The sound of the wind died.
The snow stopped falling.
Everything was still.
Retro took one step inside—
and the door slammed shut behind him.
He spun around.
"Lea?"
Silence.
He reached out, gripping the frozen handle, but the metal burned his palm like acid. The door refused to move.
Retro (shouting): "Lea!"
No answer.
Just the sound of something faint—footsteps?—echoing deeper inside.
He turned back toward the hallway ahead, pulse quickening. The shadows bent along the walls, shapes moving just out of sight. The air reeked faintly of burnt candles and damp earth.
Retro began to walk.
His footsteps were the only sound.
One corridor led to another, then another. No doors. No windows. Just darkness and that faint echo of someone crying.
His chest tightened. "Lea… where are you?"
---
Lea's Perspective
Lea blinked.
The hallway was gone.
She stood in the middle of a snowy courtyard, surrounded by broken statues and collapsed walls. Her ears twitched. Somewhere nearby—a child sobbing.
She followed the sound, her breath heavy, her tail dragging through the snow. "Hello? Is someone there?"
The sobbing stopped.
She took another step. The air thickened—every breath heavier than the last. Her vision swam. For a moment, she saw movement in the corner of her eye—small, dark shapes running past her legs. Children. Dozens of them. Their laughter twisted into screams as they vanished into the mist.
Lea stumbled backward. "No… no, this isn't real…"
Then, she heard him.
Young Nexus (crying): "It hurts… make it stop…"
Her heart dropped. She ran toward the voice, snow crunching underfoot until she found him—
a small boy curled in the snow, clutching his head, whispering to himself. His shadow stretched unnaturally long behind him, twisting upward like smoke.
Lea (kneeling): "Nexus? Hey—it's okay, I'm here."
He looked up, eyes glowing faint violet.
Young Nexus: "You shouldn't be here."
The world shuddered.
Lea's ears rang as the ground cracked beneath her. The boy's shadow rose, taking shape—a monstrous, eyeless form, arms stretching outward. The same presence that haunted Nexus years ago.
Lea tried to move, but her body froze in place. Panic surged through her chest. Her heartbeat drowned everything else out.
Lea (screaming): "Dad! Retro! Please!"
---
Retro's Perspective
"Lea!"
Retro's voice echoed endlessly down the twisting corridors. He'd been running for what felt like hours, but the hallways never changed. His boots splashed through shallow water, but there was no ceiling, no source for the dripping sound above.
He gritted his teeth, slamming his hand into the wall. "Damn it!"
The structure flickered, and for a brief second, he saw her—Lea, trapped in a courtyard of snow, surrounded by shadow. He reached out through the distortion, but she was gone again.
Retro (panting): "Hold on, kiddo. I'm coming."
He steadied himself, focusing his mana.
The air shimmered faintly around him. The mansion groaned, its walls pulsing like veins. He could feel the time distortion now—it wasn't just space bending, it was history.
Every heartbeat of fear Nexus once felt was carved into these walls.
And now Lea was caught in it.
Retro pressed his palm to the ground, closing his eyes. "Show me where."
A surge of green and gold aura burst outward, revealing faint afterimages—flashes of her footprints, the faint echo of her mana. He followed it, moving faster now, cutting through spectral barriers with swings of his sword.
Each strike left glowing fissures along the walls, the illusion cracking more and more with every swing.
But no matter how far he went…
The mansion kept rebuilding itself.
Hours passed—or maybe minutes; time didn't make sense anymore.
The moon rose and fell behind the fog, and the cold only grew worse.
---
Lea — Deeper Within the Nightmare
Lea stumbled through the snow, clutching her arm, shivering uncontrollably.
Everywhere she turned, the shadows whispered Nexus's name.
"Monster…"
"Abomination…"
"Why are you still alive?"
She covered her ears. "Stop it… please stop…"
Her legs gave out, and she fell into the snow. For a moment, everything was still.
Then, something soft brushed her cheek.
She looked up—
and there he was again.
Young Nexus, staring down at her, tears frozen to his face.
Lea (weakly): "Nexus…"
He shook his head slowly. "They never stop. The ghosts, the screams, the pain… they always come back."
Lea's chest ached. She reached for him, but her hand passed through his. The image flickered.
Young Nexus: "You'll see. The mansion keeps us. It doesn't let go."
---
Retro — Breaking Through
Retro slammed his blade into the ground. "ENOUGH!"
A shockwave of energy erupted, the force ripping through the entire floor. Walls shattered, the illusion splintering in green light.
For the first time, he saw it clearly—
Lea trapped inside a memory sphere, the world of snow looping endlessly around her.
Retro staggered forward, reaching into the field. It burned like acid against his skin, but he pushed through.
Retro (gritting his teeth): "You're not keeping her, you cursed house!"
He yanked her free, the illusion shattering like glass. The snow, the voices, the mansion—all imploded into light.
---
Aftermath
The two fell to the cold ground outside, gasping for air as the night sky returned above them.
The mansion was gone—only ruins and fog remained.
Retro held Lea tightly as she trembled in his arms, her breathing uneven, her eyes unfocused.
Lea (shaking): "I saw him, Dad… I saw what he went through…"
Retro brushed her hair gently, his expression soft but grim.
Retro: "I know. You saw what made him who he is."
Lea buried her face in his chest. "It was so real… I could feel it."
Retro (quietly): "That's because the house doesn't show illusions. It shows truths."
He looked up at the fractured sky, the faint shimmer of the fading time distortion.
Retro: "And it means something's starting again. Time's not done playing with us yet."
The air was still.
Too still.
The ruins around them glowed faintly with afterimages of light from the shattered mansion, fading in and out like dying embers. Frost crawled across the ground where time had fractured, whispering like distant voices.
Retro sat with his back against a half-collapsed wall, holding Lea close. Her breathing was uneven, her hands trembling against his coat.
He brushed a hand through her hair, whispering softly.
Retro: "It's over now, kiddo. You're safe… it's over."
But it wasn't.
Her eyes—usually full of life—were glassy, distant. She wasn't looking at him, just through him.
Retro (quietly): "Lea…?"
No response. Just a faint whimper, barely audible.
He could feel her pulse racing against his arm. Her mana was unstable—flickering like a candle fighting against the wind. She was trapped between waking and memory, between fear and exhaustion.
Retro gritted his teeth, guilt clawing at him. "Damn it… I should've never let you follow me in there."
He tightened his hold, pulling her closer, letting his own aura wrap around her like a faint, warm glow. Slowly, her shaking eased, but the fear didn't leave her face.
Minutes turned into hours.
The night refused to move. The moon hung frozen in the same spot, locked in place—as if even time was afraid to move forward.
Then—
A whisper of wind drifted through the ruins.
Soft, weightless. Almost… gentle.
Retro's instincts flared. His hand went instinctively to his sword, eyes narrowing as the temperature dropped around him. Frost traced lines along the stones, forming circular patterns like runes.
Retro (low): "Who's there?"
The wind answered first—then light began to gather.
Particles of silver shimmered in the air before them, swirling together like starlight caught in a slow breeze. They took shape—first a child's silhouette, then soft features, silver hair floating weightlessly as if underwater.
Eyes like fogged glass blinked once.
Then, softly—like the sound of wind through reeds—
Lune: "You shouldn't be here."
Retro's hand tightened on his sword, but he didn't move. The figure before him wasn't hostile. It wasn't anything he'd felt before—no malice, no pressure, just… stillness.
Retro (hoarse): "You again…?"
The spirit tilted his head, drifting slightly closer. His translucent cloak shimmered faintly, stitched from threads of shadow and moonlight.
Lune: "She saw too much. The mansion showed her what was not meant to be seen."
Retro looked down at Lea, who had curled into him tighter, breathing shallowly. "Then fix it."
Lune didn't answer immediately. His pale eyes drifted to Lea's face, and for a moment his expression—if it could be called that—softened.
Lune: "I cannot fix what is already written… only soften the ache it leaves behind."
Retro's jaw clenched. "Then why show it at all? Why drag her into that nightmare?"
The spirit blinked slowly, the light around him dimming and brightening with his words.
Lune: "Because time does not choose… it remembers. She was near a wound that never healed. The past bled through, and the mansion answered."
Retro looked down at Lea again, his voice quieter now. "A wound…"
Lune: "Yes. One that began with the boy who feared the dark and the man who could not forgive himself."
Retro exhaled heavily. "Nexus and Atlas."
Lune nodded faintly. "The echo of their fear is carved into the world. You carry it every time you speak their names."
The silence after was unbearable. The snow had begun to fall again—gentle this time, as if afraid to disturb the stillness between them.
Retro: "So what happens now?"
Lune: "She will wake when dawn breaks. But she will not forget. None of you do."
Retro stared at him. "You talk like you've seen this before."
Lune looked away toward the horizon, where the fractured moon still hung frozen.
Lune: "I have… again and again. Grief loops like time. It never ends—only changes its shape."
He stepped closer, the air around him rippling like disturbed water. For a brief moment, Retro could see faint outlines of other faces flickering within Lune's form—dozens of them, hundreds maybe—people he had once watched over.
Then, as softly as he came, Lune began to fade.
Lune (whispering): "The hourglass is turning again, Retro. Be ready when it breaks."
And he was gone.
Retro sat there, eyes fixed on the empty space where the spirit had been. The snow melted against his skin, steaming faintly from the heat of his aura.
He looked down at Lea again—her breathing steady now, her grip on his coat looser.
He sighed. "I swear, kiddo… every time I think things are getting better, the world reminds me I'm wrong."
He brushed the hair from her face, leaned his head back against the wall, and looked up at the frozen moon.
The night didn't end.
It just lingered.
Watching. Waiting.
And Retro stayed awake until the first light of false dawn crept over the horizon.