It was the fastest death he had ever seen. One second, Emily had been behind him, radiant and full of life, her hand already half-lifted as if about to call out his name. The next…gunshots. Three, maybe four, tore through the air. The sound was dull in Sylvester’s ears, like muffled thunder behind a wall of water. And then she crumpled. Not a scream. Not a gasp. Just... silence. Her dress billowed as she dropped, collapsing like an elegant paper swan soaked in blood. Sylvester didn’t move. He didn’t attack. He didn’t rush forward to hold her in his arms. He just stood there, blinking like a man underwater. Maybe it was just the shock. He would have liked to lie to himself that it was. But it was something else. Something more than shock…because factually speaking, nothing would have kept him from Emily’s side in such a moment. It felt like something unforeseen, but no less strong, tugged at his sleeves…then at his skin. The world distorted. His vision twisted, the asp

Time always came for him. It didn’t matter how tightly he held onto the moment, how carefully he planned, or how much he dreaded it. Sylvester adjusted his tie in the mirror, watching himself with a flat, unreadable expression. Emily's laughter echoed from down the hallway, light and innocent. She was applying perfume and humming some pop song that had been playing earlier in the day. To her, the night was still new. Still perfect. But not for him. The weight of it crushed his chest. This was the third time he was going to do this. He just couldn’t keep track of how fast it was, that Emily stepped out of the car, and how fast the shooter was to unload his magazine. And of course, he couldn’t run faster than bullets. But he could manipulate time, right? It wasn’t so simple. See, time could only begin to slow down when he began to think about it slowing down. Also, what he had gained mastery of was his perception of time. That’s what he wanted Emily to learn. Not its actua

This time, Sylvester didn’t rush. He didn’t plot, or delay, or pick apart every shadow on the street. He simply went through the day as a man carrying something heavy in his heart. After leaving the jewelry store, he walked slowly, savoring the weight of the small velvet box in his pocket, the way it reminded him of her and all the reasons he kept trying. He picked up his tuxedo with little more than a nod, offering no smile or small talk. The world was quieter this time. Or maybe he just was. When he returned home, Emily was already dressed, standing in front of the mirror, admiring her earrings. Her gown sparkled like moonlight, hugging her body in all the ways that made Sylvester pause in the doorway and forget the thousand deaths he’d watched her suffer. She turned and caught him staring. “Finally,” she said, grinning. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten cold feet.” Sylvester smiled. “You look…unreal.” Emily blushed, turning away as if to hide her pleasure. “Say th

The knife pressed deeper into Emily’s neck. Sylvester saw a thin line of red form against her pale skin. That was all it took. His entire body froze, but not in fear. Rage bubbled up inside him like a dam about to break. His heart pounded like a war drum, echoing in his ears. The blockers barked orders he didn’t hear. The world around him seemed to stretch, warp, slow down. All he could focus on was Emily…her wide, brave eyes, the way her chest rose and fell steadily even in the face of death, the small tremble in her lower lip she was trying to hide. They were going to kill her. They were actually going to kill her. And that was when something inside him broke. His body jerked. His eyes widened, glowing faintly with golden energy. He gasped, clutching his chest as if something had just been torn out and sewn anew. The energy erupted. A blinding pulse exploded from his body, crackling like lightning. The air itself shimmered. The men holding Emily screamed as they wer