[Narrated by the entity who exists between stories and reality, who watches mortals play at divinity while gods play at mortality, who knows that some choices echo across timelines and some souls burn bright enough to rewrite their own endings.]
There is a space between stories. Between what is written and what is lived. I watch from there. I watch mortals play at divinity and gods play at mortality. I watch choices echo across timelines. I watch souls burn so bright they scorch the pages of their own fate.
...
Soren experienced such a moment as his horse pounded down the mountain path, each stride carrying him closer to catastrophe while his mind worked with the furious speed of someone who'd just realized he'd missed something crucial.
Just like Eris his mind traveled back to that night.
