The victory did not feel complete.
Ethan sat by the river, staring at his reflection in the water. The silver light was gone, but his body still ached. Every breath felt heavier than before.
Lyria sat beside him. "You saved everyone."
Ethan shook his head. "At a cost."
One of the survivors approached carefully. "That creature will return," he said. "They always do."
Ethan looked up. "Then we'll be ready."
But the Fate Mark burned faintly, not with power—with warning.
That night, Ethan dreamed.
He stood in an endless dark space. Broken worlds floated around him like shattered mirrors. From each one, whispers reached him.
Choice creates pain.
Freedom demands sacrifice.
He woke with a sharp gasp.
Blood stained his palm.
The Fate Mark had cracked further.
Lyria rushed to his side. "Ethan, you're hurting yourself."
Ethan closed his fist. "Every choice I make… it hurts something else."
The Watcher's voice echoed faintly in the distance.
This is the price of freedom.
Ethan looked at the sky, fear and determination mixing in his eyes.
If choice had a cost—
He would pay it.