Prologue:

Dew dripped from the leaves, shining brightly against the harsh light of the sun. The glory of life was apparent as rays crashed down onto the receivers beneath it. The lovers. Those who could not live were it not for the terrible beauty of the sun. Leaves trembled as a stale wind blew through. As if things were stuck in a bubble. An incredible stretch of land, but a bubble nonetheless. A bubble that was quarantining life itself. Grasping life in its cruel jaws and digging in to the weak spots. Reality was breaking. Piece by piece.

That was not yet apparent to the wildlife, as well the wind brought old scents and the days seemed to drone on into nothingness, everything was amiable for the lifeforms that prowled the forest. Stuck in a state of peace – it was ataraxic, as one might say. The occasional glitch in the matrix of life proved ineffective in persuading those residents of life's impending dangers. Not many would be able to see it coming, even if they wanted to.

A moment in time can contain hundreds of births and deaths, sometimes thousands. Fate can be burned and destroyed, while others meet their destiny. Many meet their maker. Of course, as is the way of things, these moments are rarely regarded with sincerity. Why should one care about a moment in time? For what may occur in a moment may be irrelevant in the very next. It is easy to take such moments for granted.

We are all made up of what ends us: time. Time follows us through the paths we walk. Time governs us, and yet we give it no worship, not acknowledgement. As is the way of life. For if time were to be acknowledged, what point is there in living? Who wants to appreciate what merely ends up snuffing their sparks out?

Time is wretched. Time is furious, and yet, through all that one must fight through, time accompanies us. Time is our guardian, our protector, and time is indiscriminate when it comes to those who need protecting.

Though time seems immortal, one must know of the powerful phrase, "All good things must come to an end." However, this implies that time must exist, for what can end without time? What if I were to tell you that this statement is incomplete? What if I were to say that in the little bubble of life, time was dying? Would you agree? I doubt it, for time is imminent, is it not? How could such a void be left in life? What would fill it?

Well now, my friends, it is time to tell you a story. The time it takes to tell is irrelevant, for time is not at stake, but what if I were to tell you that in the past, time itself was in jeopardy? What if I told you that at one point in time, only shards remained of our world? What if I told you a story of dimensions? Of blind trust? Of inner strength and courage?

What if I told that you that time was destroyed for good and brought back into our realm, in a very simple moment in time?


The earth trembled, or at least, what was left to tremble. A small group of cats were pelting their way through the burgeoning wilderness, hastened by the imminent doom that awaited them. Their paws slammed against the dirt, scaring away what precious lifeforms remained. A bird was standing at the edge of a tree branch, a fine tree branch, thick and smooth.

Regardless of its pure qualities, that could not distract from the tree from where the branch originated. It was gone, replaced by shimmering crystals. They shined welcomingly at the travelers, almost begging for them to take a rest. To sink into the embrace of the tree's corpse.

The cats shook their heads and kept pounding their way deeper into the forest, urgency allowing blistering speed to advance them further. The situation was at the brink, the brink of the end, or the brink of the lack of an end. Perhaps one could say that a split second would decide their fate; however there were soon to be no more seconds to split.

The air around them was losing its fiber. The fiber of vitality and love that kept the world from dying. The fiber that also kept the cats from dying as well. The air itself was shimmering, as if they didn't really exist. If one peered carefully into the sky, one could see pinpricks poked high into the sky. Areas where time had gone for good.

The cats kept going though, for they did not have much time left. Time itself was in limited quantities. It was becoming a scarcity, one that could not be stopped. If the cats were to fail, then time would cease to exist, as would the world as we know it. The shards of our world are not meant to be spread into oblivion.

One might notice that at that point in time, time was dying. The pinpricks were getting larger, the patches of crystal growing into oceans and seas of crystal. Life embraced these crystals, for if they had no time to protect them, what else was there to do?

There was only one place that could fix this, and only a few cats that could fix this, and those very same cats were getting close to their destination. They were the ones who were going to save time. Or at least, the ideal situation was as such.

What was not planned for was what would happen if their way was blocked. They arrived at their location, gasping for breath, only to find a terrible sight. Shards had been broken, there was little but an abyss surrounding the location. The cats knew they were doomed, for how were they to reach the location now?

"It is done," the largest tom murmured, staring intensely at the location before them, "We are done."

He was right. Their path towards redemption had vanished. Their lives were all too likely soon to follow.

For who can control the frozen shards that were beginning to destroy time? What powerful being would be cunning enough to reach the location of redemption? What being would even think of such a crazy thought?

It was over. Time had been destroyed for good.