The Goddess of Love turned to me, her eyes shimmering with something between sorrow and strength. "Anna," she said gently, but there was a firmness in her voice that cut through the air like a blade, "you need to understand—Death will not back down. His obsession with you runs deeper than even he allows himself to admit. He's ancient, powerful, and used to getting what he wants. And now… he wants you."
I felt a chill crawl up my spine, and my hands unconsciously curled into fists.
She stepped closer, placing a warm hand over my heart. "When you meet him again—and you will—keep your heart guarded. He'll try to use your pain, your doubts, your love. He'll speak like he understands you, like you belong to him. But you must not let him in. You must hold on to who you are. You must remember love that is true… not love twisted by loneliness or power."
I clenched my jaw and took a shaky breath. "I will fight him off as much as I can," I said firmly, meeting her gaze. "I won't let him take me."
Her hand didn't move from my chest. "Then hold fast to that strength. You are not alone, Anna. You carry love within you that he can never touch—not if you guard it. Not if you choose it."
Her words settled in me like fire in my bones. I nodded, slower this time, not from fear—but from resolve. "I will."
She smiled faintly. "Good. Because the moment you hesitate… he will be waiting."
The Goddess of Love held my gaze for a moment longer, then slowly pulled her hand away from my chest. "This path ahead won't be easy, Anna. But neither was the one behind you—and yet, you've made it this far."
A warm wind stirred around her, petals spinning in the air like whispers. Her form began to glow, a soft radiance surrounding her. "Remember—guard your heart. Love, when pure, is your greatest weapon."
And just like that, she was gone—vanished into light and warmth, leaving me alone in the silence of the sacred grove.
For a moment, I stood still, letting the quiet settle in me. My thoughts raced, but underneath them all was a steady flame of resolve. I turned toward the path leading back to the village. Back to Kai and Alex. I needed to return—to warn them, to stand with them, and to remind myself of who I was. And who I still wanted to be.
The woods whispered around me as I walked, shadows shifting between the trees. The closer I got to the edge of the forest, the more the air felt… strange. Heavier. Like the world itself was holding its breath.
Then, I felt it—that familiar ripple of power, ancient and vast.
I stopped.
A figure emerged from the mist between the trees, cloaked in silver and midnight. Their presence didn't feel like Death's, but it was still divine… otherworldly. Their eyes glowed like distant stars, and when they spoke, it was as though the wind carried their voice into every corner of my soul.
"You are not the only one walking paths meant for gods," they said, tilting their head as they studied me. "Tell me, child of love and war… do you know what price will be demanded for the choices you've made?"
I took a step back, instinctively reaching for the blade at my side. My heart pounded—not from fear, but from the sudden awareness that my journey had just changed again.
"Who are you?" I asked, breath steady despite the storm within.
The god smiled faintly. "One who watches. One who judges. But tonight… I may yet choose to help."
The woods darkened—not with shadow, but with something heavier. A presence. Time itself felt like it was holding its breath.
From the mist stepped a tall figure draped in a flowing cloak of silver laced with constellations. The stars in the fabric shimmered and moved, like the night sky lived upon him. His skin was deep like polished obsidian, and his eyes—those swirling galaxies—felt like they saw every possible version of me at once.
"I am Myrion," he said, his voice calm and detached, echoing like a forgotten thought. "God of Fate and Paradox. I exist in the spaces between choices… the threads where destinies tangle and drift apart."
I didn't move. I didn't reach for my blade. I just stood there, tired.
"What do you want?" I asked, not even trying to hide the lack of energy in my voice.
"You," he said, "stand in a world not meant for you. This timeline—the one with Kai and Alex—it is not your origin. You were taken. Pulled from your time. Removed from your life."
I blinked slowly. "Yeah… I figured."
Myrion tilted his head slightly, studying me. "Kai brought you here. Not out of love, not for who you are—but because of what you might do. He needed someone to save his timeline. And to bind you to him… as his wife."
A dull ache passed through me, but I didn't flinch. I'd heard the truth before—just not like this. Right now, it didn't sting. It didn't even shock me. It just… was.
"He forced me here," I said quietly, shrugging one shoulder. "And now I'm just… here."
"You've been caught in a war not your own," Myrion continued. "And while you've drifted through this broken destiny, time has continued without you in the one you left behind."
He waved a hand. The air rippled. A vision shimmered into view—my mother, lying in bed. Pale. Weak. Still breathing… barely.
"She's sick," he said, voice soft but flat. "And she doesn't have much longer."
I stared at the image. My throat tightened a little, but I didn't cry. I couldn't even bring myself to feel anything clear or sharp. Just a kind of numb guilt, sitting heavy in my chest.
"She looks… worse," I mumbled. "I thought maybe time would stop there, or slow down. Guess not."
"You are at a crossroads, Anna," Myrion said. "Stay here, in a life that was forced on you… or return to the one where you still matter to someone. But not both."
I nodded slowly. "Right. Classic impossible choice."
He studied me for a long moment, maybe waiting for emotion I didn't have the energy to give.
"You don't have to decide now," he said at last. "But soon, the path will vanish. And you'll be stuck wherever you stand."
I didn't say anything. I just kept watching the image of my mother. My body was here, but my mind drifted like a leaf in a river—quiet, tired, and not sure where it was going anymore.
Myrion didn't speak again. He didn't need to.
The vision of my mother faded slowly, like fog burning away in morning light. The air grew still again. He stood there, waiting—for what, I didn't know. An answer, maybe. A reaction. But I had nothing to give him.
I turned away without a word.
My boots pressed gently into the damp forest floor as I walked. No destination. No plan. I just… moved. The trees didn't seem to notice me, and I was fine with that. For once, I didn't want to be noticed.
I wasn't angry. Not sad either. Just… meh. Like a piece of paper someone had written on, crumpled up, and forgotten to throw away. A part of me knew I should be panicking, or crying, or even furious. But instead, I just felt like I was floating through someone else's story.
A timeline I never chose. A future that never asked what I wanted.
Birdsong echoed distantly, too cheerful for how heavy everything felt. Somewhere beyond the trees, I could probably find my way back to Kai and Alex. They'd ask questions. Maybe even pretend to care. But not right now.
Right now, I needed to be away from all of it—gods, timelines, destiny… even them.
I found a quiet clearing with moss-soft ground and low, dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. I sat down slowly, pulled my knees to my chest, and rested my head against them.
The silence wrapped around me like a thin blanket—not warm, but not cold either.
I didn't know what to do. Or what I even wanted anymore.
So I sat there.
And let the world keep spinning.
Kai – POV
The wind shifted.
I was standing just outside the village barrier, speaking with the elders about reinforcing the defenses, when a strange tug pulled at the back of my mind. It was faint, but familiar—like the air itself carried her presence again.
"She's back," I murmured, eyes lifting toward the treeline.
A scout came rushing down the path moments later, chest heaving. "Kai! Anna's returned. She was seen near the forest path. Alone."
I straightened, heartbeat ticking faster. "Is she injured?"
"No sign of it," the scout said, catching his breath. "But she didn't come to the gates. She just… kept walking. Into the woods."
That wasn't like her.
I dismissed the others with a wave and started walking toward the edge of the trees. I didn't run. I wasn't even sure why—but something about this felt delicate. Like if I moved too fast, I might break something already cracked.
She had gone to find the third shard. I had expected her to return triumphant, maybe defiant. Maybe she'd throw it in my face and demand answers again. That, I could've handled.
But this?
Quiet? Wandering?
That wasn't the Anna I'd dragged into this timeline. The one who pushed back. The one who never let me forget that she hadn't chosen this life—or me.
Still, she came back.
Maybe she found what she was looking for. Maybe she didn't.
Maybe… she didn't care anymore.
That last thought sat uncomfortably in my chest as I reached the edge of the forest, scanning the path beyond.
I had no idea what she'd seen out there, what she'd endured, or how close she'd come to just… not returning.
But I knew one thing.
She wasn't the same girl I'd forced into this world.
And maybe—just maybe—that was my fault.
I followed the path beyond the gate, letting instinct guide me more than memory. The forest was quiet this far in—too quiet. No birdsong. No breeze. Just that stillness that comes when the world is holding something fragile in its hands.
I stepped through a curtain of low-hanging branches… and there she was.
Anna sat alone in a small clearing, her knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them. The light filtering through the trees cast soft shadows on her face, but I could see it—something had dimmed in her.
She didn't look hurt. No blood, no wounds. But there was something missing behind her eyes, like she was somewhere far away. Her gaze drifted across the forest floor, unfocused.
I stepped forward slowly, careful not to startle her.
"Anna," I said quietly.
She didn't react—not at first. Then her eyes blinked once, slowly, and she turned her head toward me.
"Oh," she said simply. "It's you."
Not angry. Not relieved. Just… neutral.
I stopped a few feet away. "They said you were back. I wanted to make sure you were alright."
She looked away again, resting her chin on her knees. "I'm fine."
It didn't sound like a lie. It didn't sound like anything.
I crouched nearby, not too close, just enough to sit within reach if she needed it. "Did you find the third shard?"
She was quiet for a long time. Then, with a small shrug, she said, "Yeah."
No excitement. No weight to it. Just confirmation.
I studied her. The girl I'd pulled from her world—against her will—was still here physically. But something inside her had gone quiet. Like she was no longer fighting to escape… but wasn't planning to stay either.
I wanted to say something. Apologize. Explain. Offer anything. But nothing felt right. Nothing would fix this moment.
So instead, I said the only thing that felt true.
"You don't have to talk about it. But… I'm here. If you do."
She didn't answer. Didn't look at me. Just let the silence stretch.
But she didn't tell me to leave.
So I stayed.
Back to Anna:
He sat beside me in silence. Not close enough to crowd me, but close enough to feel. I didn't move. I didn't look at him. The forest felt still again, like it was waiting to see if I would say something—anything.
Part of me wanted to stay quiet. Let the silence speak for me. But another part, the tired part, the one that had been dragging itself through godlike speeches and impossible choices, finally opened its mouth.
"Kai," I said, my voice low. "Why did you bring me here?"
He shifted slightly beside me. I didn't look, but I felt it—the way his breath caught just a little.
I stared at the moss-covered ground in front of me, tracing small lines in it with my finger. "I was fine in my timeline. I knew what I was doing. I was looking for the blade there too. I had people I needed to protect. A mother who needed me. A mission that was mine."
My voice didn't rise. It didn't crack. I wasn't angry. Just tired. And curious in that dull, aching way where you already suspect the answer won't satisfy you.
"But you yanked me out of all of that," I continued, finally turning to look at him. "You took me. You didn't ask. You just… brought me here. Like I was a missing piece in your puzzle."
He looked back at me, his face unreadable, lips parted like he was ready to speak but couldn't quite find the words.
I shook my head, not accusingly—just slowly. "Was I just convenient? Or did you really think I'd thank you for it someday?"
The silence stretched again. The clearing felt heavier than before, but at least now it had shape. Words made the weight real.
I didn't know what I wanted him to say.
But I knew I needed to hear something.
Kai – POV
Her voice wasn't sharp, but it cut through me all the same.
She looked at me, and I could barely hold her gaze. There wasn't fury in her eyes. Just… disappointment. That was worse.
I opened my mouth to speak—but nothing came. Because what could I say that wouldn't sound selfish? What excuse would make it right?
I looked down at my hands. They were calloused from war, from ritual, from wielding the blade—but none of that prepared me for this kind of reckoning.
"I…" I started, then stopped. The truth weighed too much all at once.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," I said finally, my voice low. "I didn't even know who you were. Not really. All I knew was the vision. The prophecy. It said a girl from another timeline—your timeline—would carry the balance we needed. That without her, our world would fall."
I risked a glance at her. She wasn't looking at me anymore. Her eyes were fixed on the ground, still and unreadable.
"I didn't do it because I hated your world, or wanted to take everything from you. I did it because… we were desperate. And you were our only chance. I thought maybe, once you understood, it would all make sense. That you'd stay. That maybe you'd even—"I caught myself. That maybe you'd even love me someday. But the words dried out before they could cross my lips.
I let the silence stretch between us. I didn't fill it. I didn't beg.
Because I could feel it—the part of her that was already gone.
She stood.
No rush. No fury. Just slow and quiet like a person too tired to fight anymore.
"I don't hate you," she said softly, still not looking at me. "But I don't know how to forgive you, either."
She turned and started walking toward the trees.
I didn't follow.
Because maybe for once, I needed to let her go on her terms.