The rain hammered against the windowpane, mirroring the tempest brewing inside Ethan. He sat hunched over a worn wooden table in a small, dimly lit café in Prague’s Old Town. The aroma of stale coffee and the murmur of hushed conversations did little to soothe his frayed nerves. The weight of the future, or rather, futures, pressed down on him like a physical burden. He’d thought he was getting a handle on things, mastering Chronos, outsmarting the potential pitfalls he remembered. He was wrong.

The Watchers. They were more organized, more pervasive than he’d initially anticipated. He’d dismissed them as zealots, history’s self-appointed guardians. Now, he knew they were a real threat, a dedicated force with resources he couldn't even begin to fathom.

But the real blow, the gut-wrenching twist of the knife, was Michael.

Michael, his best friend since kindergarten. The guy who’d shared his dreams, his heartaches, and countless late-night pizza slices back in Queens. Michael, who, in his previous life, had been a constant source of support, even when Ethan's life was spiraling down. Michael, who had succumbed to a meaningless death during a mugging gone wrong, a loss that had haunted Ethan for years.

He’d found Michael here, in this new timeline, studying abroad in Prague. It had been a joyous reunion, a chance to rewrite a tragic ending. They'd spent weeks reconnecting, reliving old memories, building a new friendship built on shared history, both known and unknown. Ethan had been so careful, guarding his secrets, never revealing his true nature, never even hinting at the existence of Chronos or the altered timeline.

But the Watchers had gotten to him first.

He'd received the message earlier that day, a cryptic note slipped under his door: “Meet me. Charles Bridge. Midnight. Alone.” He knew it was a trap, but he had to see. He had to know.

And there he was, Michael, standing under the flickering gaslight, his face pale and drawn, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and desperation. He hadn’t needed to say a word. Ethan had seen the truth in his eyes.

"They… they know about you, Ethan," Michael had stammered, his voice barely a whisper above the rush of the Vltava River. "Everything. The amulet, the… the time travel. They know about Chronos."

The Watchers had leverage, of course. They always did. They had threatened to erase Michael, to rip him from the timeline altogether, to make it as if he never existed. The ultimate fear, especially for someone who had already faced oblivion once.

The rain intensified, washing away some of the grime on the window, but doing little to cleanse the bitter taste in Ethan's mouth. He took a long, slow sip of the lukewarm coffee. He needed to think. He needed a plan.

The question wasn’t whether Michael had betrayed him. He understood the pressure Michael was under. The real question was: How much did the Watchers know? And how far were they willing to go?

He closed his eyes, focusing on the familiar hum of Chronos within him. The ancient entity remained silent, a dark, watchful presence. Usually, Chronos would have enjoyed this kind of drama, this emotional turmoil. Its silence was almost more unsettling.

"They want you to surrender," Michael had said, his voice cracking with emotion. "They want the amulet. They want to… to erase you from this timeline, to fix what you've broken."

"And what did you tell them, Michael?" Ethan had asked, his voice dangerously calm.

"I… I told them I would help them," Michael had confessed, tears streaming down his face. "I'm sorry, Ethan. I had to. I didn't want to disappear again."

The memory of that moment burned in his mind. He could have lashed out, accused Michael of treason, condemned him for his weakness. But he hadn't. He'd simply nodded, acknowledging the impossible choice Michael had been forced to make.

Now, he had a choice of his own.

He could expose Michael, reveal his involvement with the Watchers, and use him as bait. It would be a calculated move, a way to gain the upper hand. But it would also mean sacrificing Michael, condemning him to a life on the run, constantly looking over his shoulder.

Or he could trust Michael, believe that despite his betrayal, a flicker of loyalty remained. He could use Michael as a double agent, feeding the Watchers false information, leading them down a blind alley. It was a risky gamble, one that could backfire spectacularly.

But betrayal cut deep, especially from someone he considered a brother.

He opened his eyes, a newfound resolve hardening his gaze. He couldn't afford to be sentimental. He couldn't afford to let his emotions cloud his judgment. He had to think strategically, to act decisively.

He pulled out his phone, the screen reflecting the gloomy café interior. He scrolled through his contacts, stopping at Michael’s name. He hesitated for a moment, his finger hovering over the call button.

He closed his eyes and remembered Michael from his previous life. Loyal. Supportive. A true friend. He remembered the gut punch he felt when he learnt of his death. He remembered the anger and sadness he suppressed.

He took a deep breath and pressed the button.

"Michael?" he said, his voice low and steady. "We need to talk. Meet me at the Astronomical Clock in an hour. But this time, no Watchers."

He hung up before Michael could respond. He needed to prepare, to anticipate every possible scenario. He needed to decide how much he was willing to risk, how much he was willing to lose.

As he walked out of the café, the rain had stopped. A sliver of moon peeked through the clouds, casting long, eerie shadows across the cobblestone streets. Prague, with its ancient architecture and hidden secrets, felt like a chessboard, and he and the Watchers were merely pawns in a game far older than time itself.

He arrived at the Astronomical Clock early, studying the intricate mechanisms of the ancient timepiece. It was a marvel of engineering, a testament to human ingenuity, a symbol of the relentless march of time.

He spotted Michael approaching, his face etched with worry. He stopped a few feet away, avoiding eye contact.

"They're watching me, Ethan," Michael said, his voice trembling. "I couldn't shake them."

"I know," Ethan said calmly. "That's why we're going to use them."

He outlined his plan, speaking in hushed tones, careful to avoid being overheard. He would feed the Watchers carefully crafted lies, misleading them about his intentions, his powers, and his ultimate goal. Michael would be his conduit, his trusted messenger.

"I don't know, Ethan," Michael said, his voice filled with doubt. "It's too risky. They'll see through it. They always do."

"Maybe," Ethan said, his gaze unwavering. "But we have no other choice. Either we fight back, or we let them erase us from existence. Which is it, Michael?"

Michael hesitated, his eyes darting nervously around the square. He looked at Ethan, his expression a mixture of fear and resolve.

"Okay," he said finally, his voice barely audible. "I'm in. But Ethan, if this goes wrong…"

"Then we'll face it together," Ethan said, placing a hand on Michael's shoulder. "Just like we always have."

As the first rays of dawn began to paint the sky, Ethan knew he had made his choice. He had chosen to trust Michael, to believe in the enduring power of their friendship. It was a gamble, a desperate roll of the dice. But in a game where the stakes were the very fabric of time, sometimes the only option was to take a leap of faith, even if it meant facing the ultimate betrayal.