...
{Ember POV}
The sky was ablaze, painted entirely in a harsh, unforgiving scarlet hue.
Thick, choking fumes rose from the trees that had once towered proudly above the land, now consumed by fire with such ferocity that the heat radiating from them was enough to scorch exposed skin in an instant.
'Where am I?'
'Who am I?'
'What is happening?'
I had no answers, no certainty, no clarity.
All I could do was look around in disbelief, my eyes taking in the full scope of devastation.
The forest, the place I had always considered my home, was being utterly consumed by flames.
The familiar greens and browns had been replaced with charred black and molten orange, and the air was thick with smoke that burned my lungs as I inhaled.
Without stopping to question my own thoughts or to hesitate for even a single moment, I began running toward the castle, the grand structure carved directly into the trunk of a massive, ancient tree.
Its once majestic presence seemed small against the chaos engulfing the land, yet it was the only place that held even a faint trace of hope.
As I ran through the streets of the Royal Capital, dread clamped around my chest like a vise.
Every familiar landmark was twisted, broken, or entirely consumed by destruction.
Houses that had once been filled with laughter and life were now nothing more than crumbling walls and piles of smoldering debris.
The market square, which had once been alive with merchants calling out their wares and townsfolk bustling about, was now a grotesque scene of carnage.
Blood stained the cobblestones, flames licked what remained of stalls and goods, and shattered wares lay strewn across the ground, completely destroyed, leaving behind an eerie silence broken only by the crackling of fire and the distant cries of those unfortunate enough to remain.
My expression changed drastically as I took in the horrifying scene before me.
Corpses littered the area, strewn across the ground in grotesque disarray.
The blood splattered across my boots as I ran only added to my mounting panic.
The air was thick, suffocating, tainted with the acrid smell of smoke, burning flesh, and rotting corpses.
Each breath I took made me gag, threatening to expel every morsel I had eaten that day.
The stench was overwhelming, unbearable, yet my legs moved of their own accord.
I ran.
I ran as fast as my body would allow, ignoring the nausea clawing at my stomach, ignoring the heat and smoke, ignoring everything except the desperate need to reach somewhere familiar.
Finally, I arrived at a house I recognized from my frequent walks along the streets of the ruined city.
My eyes narrowed as I stopped abruptly, staring at the broken-down structure, its walls cracked, windows shattered, and roof partially caved in.
The frame of the gate still stood, though bent and scorched.
"Aina! Big sis! Uncle! Auntie! Where are you?" I shouted, my voice cracking as I pushed open the gate, forcing myself inside despite the devastation surrounding me.
The moment I stepped into the house, my blood ran cold.
The scene inside was far worse than anything I had imagined.
Three corpses lay on the floor.
The first was almost unrecognizable—completely charred, limbs missing, and in place of a head, only grotesque remnants of brain matter, flesh, and one horrifyingly intact eye stared blankly.
I staggered backward, a wave of nausea hitting me as my stomach churned violently.
My gaze fell to the second corpse, a female.
Her head, remarkably intact, offered no comfort.
The rest of her body had been burned almost beyond recognition, blackened and warped by fire.
The thick, choking smell of scorched flesh pressed against my nose, triggering an almost uncontrollable urge to vomit.
I had seen gore before—countless times in shows, films, and games—but it had never affected me.
I had been able to watch without flinching, detached and indifferent.
But this… this was different.
Seeing it in reality, seeing the lifeless bodies of people I had considered family in every sense but blood—their faces familiar, their presence once comforting—shattered something inside me.
My legs trembled, my chest heaved, and I finally broke down, my body shaking as tears streamed down my face.
The horror of the scene, the overwhelming grief, the unbearable stench of death—it all came crashing down on me at once.
Finally, my eyes fell on the last corpse, the third one, and my chest tightened as a wave of panic and desperation surged through me.
I gasped, stumbling forward, my legs moving of their own accord as if drawn by an invisible tether.
I darted toward her as though she were my last lifeline in a world gone completely mad.
"Aina! Big Sis!" I cried out, dropping to my knees as I reached her.
My hands grasped her fragile, broken body, only the upper half remaining.
A sick, hollow feeling churned in my stomach as despair gripped me.
My heart raced violently, pounding in my chest, while my mind blurred into a haze of terror and disbelief.
"Big Sis! It's me! Your Ember! Please, respond! Please! Please do something!" I begged, my voice breaking as tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision.
I shook her gently, trembling in desperation, my hands gripping her as if sheer will could pull her back from death.
Then, faintly, there was a reaction.
Her body twitched, feebly moving, her head shifting slightly to face me.
Her eyes, though weakened and glazed with pain, still retained the spark of life.
"E-ber…" came a soft, broken whisper from her cracked lips, so faint I almost thought I imagined it.
"A-Aina! You're okay! You're alive!" I choked out, my voice ragged and uneven, caught somewhere between relief and utter despair.
"Just hold on! I'll take you to the castle! There must be Elixirs there—ones that can save you!" I said, urgency driving every word, my tone fraying at the edges.
I didn't know whether it was relief, hope, or sheer panic that pushed me forward, but I didn't stop to think.
All I remembered was that my legs moved, carrying me forward with the living, fragile upper half of Aina—my sister's friend who had always felt like a sister—clutched tightly in my arms.
The streets blurred around me as I ran, my focus narrowed entirely on the once-towering tree that housed the Royal Alf family's castle.
The building was ripped in two, one half completely consumed by fire, blackened and collapsing under the intensity of the blaze.
Yet I ignored it entirely.
My legs carried me onward, moving past the burning ruins, driven by desperation, guided by the flicker of life in her eyes.
I headed straight for the still-standing portion of the Royal Castle, my mind locked on the treasury where the precious Elixirs were kept, the only chance to save her from the devastation that had already claimed so many others.
I found the place in utter chaos, the floor littered with shattered glass and broken bottles, remnants of potions scattered haphazardly across the room.
Among the destruction, I was fortunate enough to find a few bottles of Elixir still intact, their liquid shimmering faintly in the bright light.
My heart raced as I quickly laid Aina's fragile, broken upper body on the floor, my hands trembling uncontrollably.
I grabbed one of the Elixir bottles with a shaking grip and removed the wooden cap, the scent of the liquid sharp and medicinal in my nostrils.
"Big sis… everything will be—" My lips froze mid-sentence as I looked at her face.
Her eyes were empty, blank, staring into nothing.
Her body was pale, completely devoid of emotion, and blood continued to seep from her lower half, soaking my once-pristine clothes.
In that moment, nothing else mattered.
She was dead.
I collapsed forward, desperation taking over every rational thought.
I splashed the Elixir over her body in a frantic attempt to revive her, my hands shaking so violently that some of it spilled onto the floor.
I grabbed another bottle immediately, this time trying to pour it directly into her mouth.
When she did not respond, I did the only thing I could think of—I took a sip myself and tried to force it from my own mouth into hers, willing my body to serve as a conduit for life.
But it was useless.
No matter how much I tried, no matter how fast my heart pounded or how desperately I moved, the result remained unchanged.
She was dead.
Elixirs could save someone teetering on the edge of death, pull them back from the brink, restore life from the cusp—but they could not bring someone back from the grip of true death.
Not from this.
I slumped down onto the cold, debris-strewn floor, my body trembling, my mind spinning.
I stared at her lifeless form, my thoughts spiraling as I struggled to comprehend the scene.
What was happening?
Why was I here?
The scenery around me shifted in the blink of an eye, and suddenly I found myself inside the royal hall.
I spun around, and my gaze fell on the still corpse of my father, the one who had always been a mentor to our family.
He remained slumped on the throne, motionless, his lifeless eyes staring into nothing.
The ceiling above me was shattered, and the walls were broken, exposing the charred remains of the city outside.
Flames licked the horizon, smoke pouring into the ruined hall, filling the air with an acrid, choking stench.
But it wasn't enough.
My eyes then caught the lifeless body of my mother's lying on the cold stone floor.
A hot wave of grief and horror surged through me, and tears welled up uncontrollably in my eyes.
Without thinking, I crawled toward her, every movement heavy with despair and disbelief.
All my strength, all the courage I had ever possessed, all the power I thought I could rely on—everything evaporated the moment I saw her.
Only her head remained intact; the rest of her body was flattened and crushed, as though some monstrous force had stomped her mercilessly.
"M…Mom…p-please…say…something," I whispered, my voice barely escaping my throat.
My entire body felt paralyzed, as if my muscles had abandoned me.
My lips trembled, struggling to form the words, my voice caught in a thick knot of fear and grief.
Then I saw the final horror that shattered the last pieces of my sanity.
The corpse of my older sister lay on the floor.
My brain trembled, my thoughts fracturing.
Her pale, lifeless body was sprawled before me.
I tried to reach for her, crawling toward her, but my legs betrayed me, giving out completely.
They felt dead, unresponsive, as if they had never been part of my body at all.
I forced myself forward, crawling on my hands and knees, my body shaking uncontrollably in terror and despair.
When I finally reached her, my eyes fell on her motionless form, the expression on her face mirroring my own despair.
Tears poured down my cheeks, blurring my vision.
My hands, covered in ash and blood, shook violently as I stared at them in disbelief.
Then the laughter came.
"Haha…" it started quietly, almost a whisper.
"HAHAHAHAHA!" It exploded from me, uncontrolled, wild, and chaotic, echoing eerily through the ruined hall.
Madness gripped me fully, every nerve in my body thrumming with an unhinged energy.
My legs seemed to respond again, moving under me as I forced myself upright.
"I remember…" I whispered, my lips trembling violently.
"I remember everything… everything that has happened… This… this is just a dream, right?"
It must be!
"This has to be a dream!" I shouted desperately to myself, my voice cracking as it echoed in the ruined hall around me.
There was no way this could possibly be real.
No way.
"Yes! It has to be a dream!" I insisted, gripping my head with both hands, trying to convince myself that everything—the corpses, the destruction, the unbearable despair—was nothing more than a figment of my imagination.
I had to wake up.
I had to escape this nightmare.
Yesterday I was just with them? How can everyone die when I just went to sleep? It didn't make any sense.
"Wake up! Wake the hell up!" I screamed, pounding my fists against my own skull in a futile attempt to break the illusion.
My body was trembling uncontrollably as panic coursed through my veins, my heart hammering against my chest like a drum of doom.
I slapped myself hard across the face, desperate to feel reality shift, to shatter the illusion with pure force.
But instead of waking, I froze, stunned by the shocking truth.
My own hands shook violently as I brought them up to my face.
I touched my cheek cautiously, almost afraid of what I might feel.
I could feel it.
Pain.
Sharp, real, undeniable pain.
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it, harsh and involuntary.
"HAahahahaha!"
The sound echoed in the hall, bouncing off the broken walls, ringing in my ears, uncontrollable, insane.
It wasn't a dream.
"Hahahahaa!" The laughter ripped itself from my throat again, raw and chaotic, shaking me to my very core.
My mind rebelled against it, refusing to accept it, desperate to pretend otherwise.
How could it not be a dream?
How could it be real when it felt like the world itself had been torn apart?
Every thought collided violently in my head, confusion, despair, and rage blending into a maddening cocktail that left me trembling, laughing, and sobbing all at once.
Reality pressed down on me with unbearable weight, mocking my desperate need for escape.
And yet, no matter how much I willed it to be a dream, no matter how much I slapped myself, no matter how many times I screamed, the truth remained: it wasn't.
It could never be undone.
"IT IS YOUR FAULT."
The voice came from nowhere, cutting through the smoke and the ringing in my ears.
I spun around, heart slamming against my ribs, and found someone else standing there — alive, breathing, very much there.
My eyes widened so fast I stumbled backward, one foot catching on a broken shard of marble.
"Who—" I started, my voice cracking as I fell back onto my hands.
Even half-burned and scarred, the face was shockingly familiar.
Charred skin peeled in places, scars ran like dried rivers across what remained, but beneath the damage it was unmistakable.
It was my face.
"IT IS YOUR FAULT," he repeated, the words hitting me like blows.
His voice was rough, like gravel dragged across metal, and it carried an accusation that felt heavier than anything I had ever heard.
I bit my lower lip until it hurt, fighting for air. I glared at him, anger and panic rising together, a hot, ugly thing that made my hands clench.
"None of this is my fault!" I snapped, the denial snapping out of me before I could catch it.
My voice was louder now, raw.
"If anyone tries to pin what happened on me — if anyone dares to blame the person who did this on me — I will kill them."
The words left me like a promise and a threat at the same time, as if saying them could push the world back into some kind of order.
He stared at me without emotion, his eyes flat and unreadable for a long, cold breath.
Then, as if satisfied by what I had said, he tipped the barest smirk — slow, small, and empty — and the smile felt like salt on an open wound.
"Kill anyone? Kill the person who did this? Very well... the person who did this—the one responsible for all this destruction—for their death," he said, and then, with a deliberate, pointed motion, he indicated me.
"Is there…" he finished, letting the question hang in the smoke-choked air.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
He was saying it—he was saying I was to blame.
That I had caused all of this.
The thought struck like a physical blow, cold and impossible, and for a moment I could not breathe.
Then, from somewhere behind me, I heard a sound: a deep, shifting rumble, low and alive.
Something moved in the ruined hall. I spun around, and before I could think, a huge shadow fell over me and then over the entire chamber.
My eyes widened.
Color bled from my face; my skin went almost white as I looked up.
The thing standing before me was colossal—far larger than any man, far larger than anything that belonged in this world.
It towered above the shattered pillars and the burning wreckage, its bulk blotting out the flickering light of the fires beyond the broken walls.
It was more than a hundred meters tall.
Black scales—shimmering, like oil—covered its vast body and caught the flames, throwing back a hundred dying lights.
My throat tightened as I followed the line of its limbs up to those terrible claws, each one long as a tree trunk and curved like sickles.
My eyes traveled up its massive neck, feeling smaller with every inch, until I was looking directly into its face.
It had one eye.
The other was a ruined socket, the flesh and bone around it a scarred wreck.
That single, huge eye fixed on me, cold and endless.
Even if I had never seen the creature with my own eyes, even if I had only heard stories or distant descriptions, I knew what it was the instant I saw it.
The image fit all those whispered warnings, all those frightened tales.
It was the one-eyed black dragon.
I couldn't bring myself to believe it.
The sight lodged in my chest like a stone I could not swallow, and every part of me wanted to deny it—but denial didn't change the way the heat from its presence warped the air, or the way the ground trembled under its weight.
I stared at it, paralyzed by a mixture of terror and the sick, disbelieving hope that I might still be dreaming.
I didn't want this to be real.
"It is your fault," the voice sounded again, cutting through the heavy silence of the hall.
It came from the other me, the scarred version, standing there as if he had been waiting for this moment all along.
"You grew complacent after the incident where you almost died," he said, his words sharp, accusatory.
I instinctively turned to face him, my chest tightening, my hands trembling slightly.
"You never escaped the forest at the young age we had envisioned," he continued, his voice steady, unyielding.
There was no pause, no hesitation.
The blame dripped from every word.
"Finally, more than half a century later, we escaped the forest with Riveria… when Loki came… finally, I had Falna," he said, and a sad, hollow smile crossed his face.
It didn't reach his eyes.
"As expected… no sudden innate talent awakened, no divine blessing, no system appeared for you," he said, his gaze boring into mine.
"Contrary to you, my sister awakened a powerful magic. She was destined for greatness while you—" He paused, his voice tightening with strain.
"I did awaken a strong magic," he admitted, his lips twisting into a strained, bitter smile.
"But it wasn't enough."
"I took the elite path," he continued, his tone heavy with frustration and regret.
"While she became a level 7 mage in seventeen years, all I managed to reach was level 3—even though I had the power of level 5. I pushed, I struggled, I fought every day… but in the end, it still wasn't enough."
I swallowed hard, my throat tight, words caught in my chest.
"I—I don't get it," I said, my voice barely more than a trembling whisper.
My hands shook at my sides as I struggled to comprehend what he was saying, the weight of failure and the accusation pressing down on me like a living thing.
"Even if I had reached level 7… it wouldn't have changed anything," the future Ember said, his gaze locking onto mine with cold certainty.
His voice carried the weight of a lifetime of regret and failure.
"Freya Familia… lost."
"Loki Familia… my sister… lost."
The words hit me like a hammer, each one striking harder than the last.
"I… lost," he continued, his tone flat, resigned.
"My disciple… Bell Cranel… lost."
My eyes widened involuntarily at that.
The final hero?
The so-called last hope?
The person everyone expected to rise, the one who should have been the Main Character… lost?
My chest tightened, my stomach turned over, and for a moment I could hardly breathe.
"Tell me, Ember," he said, his voice suddenly sharper, cutting through the haze of panic and disbelief, "what is a Main Character?"
His lips twisted into a strained, bitter smile as he leaned forward slightly, the firelight casting shadows across his scarred face.
"Someone chosen by Fate? Someone chosen by the Divine? By the world itself? Someone who can overcome any adversity?"
I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off with a shake of his head.
"No," he answered his own question before I could speak.
"It is just the past of someone who has won. Nothing more. That's all it ever is."
I fell silent.
The words sank into me like stones, heavy and suffocating.
I felt my knees weaken slightly, my hands twitching at my sides.
The notion that the title of 'Main Character' was not a mark of destiny or strength—but merely a label attached to those who survived, those who won—hit me harder than any sword or spell ever could.
I swallowed hard, my mind reeling, trying to take it all in, trying to understand a truth I had never wanted to face.
"Luck, no matter how good it is, is worthless unless it is backed by strength," he told me, his voice flat and cold.
His face was a mask of contempt, and each word landed like a verdict.
"Because you gave up that strength," he went on, relentless.
"You chose happiness over it. You chose complacency over it."
I stumbled backward at the accusation; his words struck me hard, as if someone had shoved a blade into my chest.
"Ember Ljos Alf," he said, the name like an accusation itself.
He pointed at me with a trembling finger, hatred carved into every line of his face.
"I hate you."
"You got another chance in your life", he paused for a moment, "And you wasted it."
Those three words hit me like a physical blow.
For a beat I couldn't breathe.
My lips trembled.
"I—I—" I started, my voice failing me for a moment.
I forced myself to meet his dull blue eyes and found something like steel in my own voice.
"I will fix this. I will save everyone," I said, and this time I said it with conviction, trying to make the promise concrete with sound.
"Even if it's the last thing I do," I added, because I needed the words to be weighty, to know they meant something.
I turned to face the black dragon, the enormous shadow dominating the ruined hall, and felt my fists clench until my knuckles ached.
"I will defeat it. I will defeat the black dragon," I declared, each syllable a struggle against the panic that wanted to overtake me.
For a moment the words hung in the smoke-thick air, and I could hear my own pulse thudding in my ears.
Then, as if someone had pulled a curtain across my thoughts, everything went silent inside my head.
Suddenly my mind became blank...
... {3rd Pov}
Ember was shivering on his bed, cold and restless, as he slowly woke up, startled by a lingering sense of unease.
When he opened his eyes, he found them moist, glistening with tears he hadn't realized were forming, and his hands trembled uncontrollably.
He was confused, trying to understand the sudden flood of emotion coursing through him.
His mind felt heavy, weighed down by something he couldn't name, some residue of fear and despair that had seeped into him during the night.
'Why… why am I crying?' he thought, his mind searching desperately for an answer, yet failing to remember any event that could have provoked such a response.
He felt lost, disoriented, as if some part of him had been shaken awake without warning.
Finally, after a few moments of staring blankly at the ceiling, his thoughts began to form a conclusion.
'Did I have a bad dream?' he wondered, the idea settling uneasily in his mind.
Unfortunately, he couldn't remember the dream itself.
The details had vanished as if swallowed by the darkness of sleep, leaving only its lingering impact—an echo of fear, of loss, of something vast and incomprehensible that pressed down on his chest.
He considered that it might be related to his recent accident, the one where he had nearly died.
Logically, he thought he should rest, slow down his training, take a break.
But strangely, despite the exhaustion and the residual fear, a new desire had begun to grow inside him.
A desire to be strong.
He didn't know why this need had taken root in his mind, why it burned so fiercely, but he understood instinctively that he had to act.
He had to become stronger, no matter what it took.
The butterfly had flapped its wings, he realized, setting events in motion.
Now all that remained was the outcome, uncertain and terrifying, waiting to be revealed.
...
In an ancient temple, suspended in the void of space, a familiar figure was seated calmly on a stone dais.
The emptiness around him seemed almost alive, a silent witness to the weight of what had just been done.
It was none other than Ember Ljos Alf.
Yet even at a glance, one could see the lines of maturity and the shadows of grief etched into his features.
His eyes, deep and tired, carried the burden of countless experiences, and when he spoke, his voice was low but resolute.
"It is done," he said, his words carrying both finality and sorrow.
"He won't remember anything… only a feeling will linger."
From somewhere in the stillness, a voice spoke, cutting through the silence like a delicate bell.
"Is this the butterfly effect you spoke of? Are you sure it will actually change the timeline?"
Ember turned his gaze toward the speaker.
Standing before him was a woman he recognized clearly, yet there was an aura of authority and otherworldliness about her.
Her hair was light green, shimmering faintly as if catching starlight, and her pointed elven ears added to her ethereal presence.
Her eyes were striking—heterochromatic, one golden and the other a deep, brilliant blue.
Both irises bore the intricate design of a clock, ticking endlessly in a way that seemed almost alive.
She studied Ember with careful intensity, a mixture of curiosity and doubt in her expression.
(A/N: She is not that waifu from Date A Live.)
"It will… a single flap of wings, a single feeling. I believe it will be enough," Ember said, his voice firm, edged with determination.
He didn't turn to face her as he spoke, his eyes fixed somewhere beyond the emptiness of the temple.
"Don't you hate me?" he asked after a pause, his tone softening slightly, though still heavy with guilt.
"I've made you do something like this… something that could shatter the laws of reality itself. We don't know if the timeline will change for the better—only that it might. And if it doesn't… you will be chained and punished for eternity for breaking the law."
His words hung in the air, laden with the weight of what they had done.
"I could have just moved on," Ember continued, his voice low and regretful.
"Even if we are gone from Genkai, they have moved on. They've spent their lives happily in Heaven before their next reincarnation. The gods themselves are planning to create a new world. We could have started from zero… all over again. But instead, I pulled you into this, forcing you to break the taboo. You will be marked as a criminal alongside me."
She stepped closer, her expression gentle and unwavering.
Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him from the front, holding him tightly.
She planted a soft, deliberate kiss on his neck and whispered, "How can I hate you, darling?"
Her warmth pressed against him, and for a moment, Ember's shoulders slackened, though the weight of their actions remained.
"Even if I were to be chained for eternity," she continued, her smile unwavering, "I would want to spend it with you."
Ember let out a long sigh, his lips twitching as a half-smile formed despite the tension in his chest.
"You're a crazy woman, you know that?"
"Only for you, Anata," she replied, her smile widening, her tone soft but filled with conviction, as if no punishment or law in the universe could make her falter.
Unfortunately for them, the moment of peace was short-lived.
The temple trembled violently, dust and debris falling from its high ceilings.
Ember and the woman didn't flinch, fully aware of what was happening and who was trying to enter.
Soon, the massive gates of the temple were flung open with a deafening crash.
One by one, several gods appeared, their presence overwhelming, filling the space with an aura of divine authority and unyielding judgment.
The first was a god marked by a peacock feather upon his forehead.
His entire body shimmered with the vastness of the cosmos itself, stars and galaxies swirling across his form.
His eyes, infinite and unblinking, looked upon them with a deep, almost sorrowful pity.
Next appeared a goddess whose hair and eyes were as black as the void of the night sky.
Then came a god with matted, unkempt hair, exuding a sense of raw chaos.
Finally, a god in golden armor stepped forward, his gaze sharp and unwavering, radiating authority and anger.
"Chronos!" the golden-armored god's voice thundered across the temple, shaking the walls.
"How dare you break the taboo?"
"Yap, Yap, Yap, Yappity yap…" she said, her tone casual, almost mocking.
"Spare me the lecture, Ouranos. Do what you are here to do."
She remained seated in Ember's lap, arms wrapped around him, unafraid, her presence a calm defiance.
Ember's eyes followed the gods, completely emotionless, devoid of fear, despair, or any hint of reaction.
His gaze was cold, unreadable, detached.
"We need to quickly chain her and undo whatever she has done… right?" the goddess of the night sky began, her voice faltering as she looked down at her hands, which were beginning to fade, losing substance like smoke slipping through fingers.
"It seems we are late," the God of Cosmos said, a thin, almost amused smile curling across his lips.
"You did it deliberately, didn't you? Making us arrive late?" the God of Destruction said, his eyes narrowing as he regarded Vishnu, suspicion and accusation clear in his expression.
The God of Preservation just shrugged in response.
Ouranos, the God of Order, sighed deeply, his voice heavy with exasperation.
"Do you even realize what you have done?"
"I have just fulfilled my duty as my darling's wife," she said, her lips curling into a small, serene smile, as if the weight of gods and consequences mattered little to her.
"At the cost of destroying everything," Shiva reminded her gravely.
"By changing the past, you have altered the present. It was always morally questionable—will the new version of this timeline even be the same people as us?"
"Does it matter?" she said, her expression hardening, twisting with an intensity that bordered on obsession.
"Everything I do… is for my darling."
"You fucking crazy woman!" Nix shouted, her voice filled with disbelief and rage, as she began to vanish.
The gods moved to attack them, but even as their forms flickered and faded, the God of Time held them back, restraining them with incomprehensible power.
One by one, the rest of the timeline began to unravel, erasing everything, every life, every moment, until only Ember and the woman remained.
The world around them dissolved into nothingness, leaving silence and emptiness.
"Let's meet again… darling," she whispered, her tone soft yet filled with conviction.
Ember said nothing, his expression hidden, his mind silent, as he held her presence in the void.
[Illustration of the scene]
Together, they vanished into the nothingness, the remnants of reality collapsing around them.
To be continued…
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