Threads of Battle
General Alvaren gazed upon the smoky battlefield, the rumble of distant drums stirring a familiar dread in his chest. Time and again, he’d witnessed his knights charge into that ravine, only to meet a grim fate by nightfall. He sighed, gently turning the knob on his battered $TIME watch. With a flash of cold light, the world rewound.
This was how he lived now—endlessly replaying one pivotal battle. The first attempt, he’d led the cavalry straight down the gorge. They fell to hidden archers in the cliffs above. The second try, he’d flanked the ravine, only for trebuchets to reduce his infantry to scattering rubble. Each iteration ended in some new horror he tried to avert.
Today’s plan involved feints and traps. Alvaren’s soldiers shifted around the cliffs at dawn. They caught the enemy by surprise, if only briefly, before a sudden hail of arrows claimed more lives than he could bear to watch. Stumbling away from the carnage, the general checked his watch again, heart heavy with regret. He could still taste the dust and blood in the air.
Yet each evening, he found himself alone in a stretch of old ruins—not quite present, not fully past—where the watch’s energies recharged. Always the same campfire, always the same flicker of illusions hinting at how tomorrow’s charge might fare. In those quiet hours, he battled guilt as much as the enemy army, questioning whether any victory was worth these endless do-overs.
But Alvaren knew the stakes were bigger than just one day’s slaughter. Word spread that if this city fell, entire kingdoms would unravel in the years to come. With grim resolve, he rose at dawn to meet the soldiers anew. His heart ached, recalling each fallen comrade’s face. Perhaps this time, he’d shift the main force to the ridge—deploying archers on the high ground, sparing the cavalry for a final push.
As the horn sounded, Alvaren spurred his steed forward, trusting some part of him still believed in redemption. He had no illusions that he could save everyone—but if he could spare just a few more lives than the last loop, maybe he’d begin to rewrite the city’s fate. With the watch ticking faintly at his wrist, he galloped into the fray once more, determined to outmaneuver destiny’s brutal refrain—even if it took him a hundred tries.
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