When he reappeared, he was back at the start. The Key was dark, cracked, inert. The sun hadn’t moved. No time had passed.
Not Red or Chuck. Something older. Something that lived between the seconds. Spectral, angular birds made of compressed light and rigid geometry. The Keepers of the Speed Limit. -HIGHSPEED- bad piggies key
“Turn back,” they chirped in harmonies that shattered his mirrors. “The Key steals from the future. Every mile you take now, a second you lose later.” When he reappeared, he was back at the start
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