#14
Seven years after Ghei.
Time flowed in its own way in Sylvain. The children who once learned to read in Aelia's classes were now teenagers, some even beginning to help in the Talking Room. Elara, now eighteen, had become a full counselor—the youngest in the city.
Aelia herself felt a subtle change within. It wasn't physical exhaustion—her second-life body was still relatively young—but existential fatigue. A hundred years trapped in crystal, followed by seven years of building a city and facing the consequences of free choice, were beginning to weigh on her.
One morning, while preparing tea in her kitchen, her hands trembled for no clear reason. The cup slipped, shattered on the floor. She stared at the ceramic shards, and for the first time in seven years, the thought surfaced:
"Maybe it's enough."
She didn't act on it immediately. That wasn't her way. As she taught in the Talking Room: don't make major decisions while emotional.
But the thought didn't leave. It lingered at the back of her awareness—emerging when she was alone, when she saw the portal from afar, when she reread Ghei's writings for the umpteenth time.
One afternoon, Elara came to visit, her face anxious.
"Teacher Aelia, something strange happened in the Talking Room today."
"What was it?"
"An old man from a distant city. He said… he dreamed of someone named Ghei. In the dream, Ghei said: 'The path is open for those who wish to follow.'"
Aelia fell silent. "Did he want to leave?"
"No. He just wanted to talk. But… the dream made him curious. And it made me curious too."
Aelia looked at Elara. "Have you ever thought about…?"
"About leaving? Sometimes. But not now." Elara sat, holding her teacup tightly. "I still want to see how this city grows. Still want to help people. But… I remember Ghei's words: 'My path is only one.' And I wonder… is my path also only one? Or are there many?"
"That's a good question," Aelia said. "And only you can answer it."
The dreams of Ghei weren't limited to the old man.
Over the next few weeks, similar reports came from across Sylvain and its surroundings: vague dreams of a figure surrounded by black dust, or a simple wooden door, or a voice saying, "The time is almost here."
Kael—who now spent more time as the city's historian than as an administrator—documented the reports.
"This is an Aetherian phenomenon," he told Aelia one night in the library. "The trace of Ghei's Null Echo may be interacting with the collective consciousness. Or… perhaps he really is sending a message from the other side."
"To what end?"
"To remind. Or… to call."
"To call whom?"
Kael looked at her for a long moment. "Those who are finished."
Aelia didn't reply. But inside, she knew: she belonged to that category.
Aelia's own dreams became clearer.
She no longer merely saw the wooden door. Now she stood before it. And from behind it came a voice—not Ghei's, but older, deeper:
"The final choice is always yours. But remember: the choice to stay is also a final choice—only one that is repeated every day."
The voice… sounded like Devaros? Or something else?
She woke with her heart racing, and a sudden certainty: she would leave.
Not now. But… soon.
She began to prepare.
First, she ensured the Talking Room was in good hands. Elara was nearly ready to replace her. Kael and Tessa could handle administration. Lyra… Lyra might leave too one day, returning to Aetheria.
Second, she wrote letters. To Elara. To Kael. To her other students. To the city as a whole. They weren't long—just words of thanks, and apologies for any mistakes she'd made.
Third, she cleaned her house. Discarded what she didn't need. Organized her books. Ghei's notebook would be left in the library—it belonged to everyone now. The novel Dust Among the Stars she would give to Elara.
And finally… she visited every important place in Sylvain one last time:
Her classroom—the former warehouse now filled with children's drawings, books, and light.
The library—where Ghei's notebook would be kept.
The community garden—where people gathered, talked, and laughed.
The Quiet Zone—where the portal stood, with the Talking Room beside it.
At each place, she stood for several minutes, remembering, giving thanks.
The day she chose was the anniversary of her liberation—not the day Devaros resurrected her, but the day Ghei freed her from the crystal.
That morning, she woke early. Bathed. Put on simple clothes she liked. Brewed tea one last time in her own home.
Elara arrived, as if sensing it.
"You're leaving today," she said—not a question.
Aelia nodded. "Yes."
"Are you… are you sure?"
"Sure? No. But I've decided. And that's enough."
Elara cried—not hysterically, just quiet tears. "I don't want you to go."
"I know. But this is my choice."
"Am I selfish for wanting you to stay?"
"No. That's natural. But I ask you to respect my choice, just as I respect your choice to stay."
Elara nodded, then hugged her tightly. "Thank you. For everything."
"Thank you too. For being a good successor."
Aelia went to city hall one last time. Kael was already there, along with several elders.
"We know," Kael said. "The dreams… they seem to have told us too."
"Are you angry?"
"Sad. But not angry." Kael smiled bitterly. "We learned from the best—to respect choices, even when they hurt."
They gave her a farewell gift: an album of drawings and photographs of Sylvain over the years, with notes from many citizens.
"Take this," Tessa said. "So you'll remember us, wherever you go."
Aelia accepted it with trembling hands. "I will."
She walked to the Quiet Zone. Word had spread. People gathered at the edge—not blocking her, only seeing her off. Some cried. Some smiled sadly. Some simply nodded.
Before the portal, Aelia turned and looked at them all one last time.
"Thank you," she said, her voice clear in the morning stillness. "For the most beautiful seven years of my two lives."
Then she looked at Elara. "Take care of this city. And take care of your choices."
Elara nodded, unable to speak.
Aelia turned to face the portal.
But before stepping forward, she remembered something. She opened her small bag and took out Kaelen's blue crystal and the glowing remnants of Sisa.
She placed the blue crystal on the ground to the left of the portal. The glowing motes to the right.
"For those who come after me," she whispered. "To remind them that freedom and memory are two sides of the same choice."
Then, with her last breath as a citizen of Sylvain, she stepped into the portal.
Inside the portal—there was no darkness.
There was a bridge of light, like the Bridge of Hesitation but more intimate. At its end stood a simple wooden door.
And before the door stood a figure.
Not Ghei. Not Devaros.
Davian—human before becoming a god. Around thirty years old, his face weary but peaceful, dressed like an ancient healer.
"Welcome, Aelia," he said warmly.
"Is this… the Liminal Veil?"
"A part of it. But more… personal. Everyone who comes through Sylvain's portal receives their own space. To decide their final step."
Aelia looked at the door. "What's beyond it?"
"Your own world. The final version. It could be nothingness. A new life in another realm. Or… whatever you believe in." Davian smiled. "Ghei chose nothingness. That's what he believed in. Devaros chose… to be human again, briefly, before fading away. That was his choice."
"And you?"
"I'm finished. Now I'm just a temporary guardian—until all who need to pass have passed." Davian gestured to the door. "Your choice."
Aelia approached the door. Her hand touched the wood—warm, alive.
She remembered everything: a hundred years trapped, freedom granted by Ghei, building Sylvain, the Talking Room, her students, Elara…
Did she truly want this to end?
A rapid montage:
Little Elara asking, "Do heroes always win?"
Kael saying, "We don't need heroes. We need honest people."
The first sob in the Talking Room turning into gratitude.
Morning sunlight flooding a classroom full of children.
Elara's final embrace.
And in that flash, Aelia understood.
She didn't want nothingness.
She didn't want a new life.
She wanted… rest.
Not eternal rest. But rest long enough to feel refreshed again. And then… to choose again.
Was that possible?
She turned to Davian. "Is there a third option?"
Davian nodded, as if he'd been waiting for the question. "There always is. The door is only a symbol. You can choose anything. Including… sleep. And wake again someday, if you wish."
"How long?"
"As long as you need. A hundred years. A thousand. A single day."
Aelia looked at the door. Then at Davian. "I choose to sleep. And maybe… wake again one day. To see what Sylvain becomes."
Davian smiled wider. "A good choice. Then… let us proceed."
The wooden door transformed—into a simple bed in a softly white room. A window showed a vague view, like a blend of every place Aelia had ever loved.
"Sleep," Davian said. "And when you're ready… choose again."
Aelia lay down. It felt… comfortable. Peaceful.
She closed her eyes.
And for the first time since being freed from the crystal, she truly slept.
In Sylvain, the portal grew calm again.
Elara stepped forward, picked up the blue crystal and the glowing motes Aelia had left behind, and placed them at the base of a small monument to Aelia, now bearing an additional stone:
Aelia. Who chose to rest for a while. And perhaps return.
Kael looked at the portal, then at the gathered people. "She left in peace. That's what matters."
People slowly dispersed. But Elara remained, sitting on the stone bench.
Lyra landed beside her. "Are you okay?"
"No. But I will be." Elara looked at the portal. "Someday, I might choose too. But not today. Today… I choose to stay. And that's a valid choice too."
"Yes," Lyra said. "Very valid."
They sat together in silence, honoring Aelia's choice—and their own.
In her sleep, Aelia dreamed.
She dreamed of a future Sylvain—a larger, greener city, with new children running through its streets, with the Talking Room still standing, with the portal still there.
And in that dream, she saw herself—younger, smiling, teaching again.
Maybe that would come later.
Or maybe not.
But for now… sleep was enough.
Rest was enough.
Knowing that the choice always existed—even after the end—was enough.
And that sometimes, the most beautiful choice is giving yourself time.
Time to rest.
Time to forget.
Time to, one day, choose again.
#14
Aelia's final letter to Sylvain:
*"Thank you for seven years.
I choose to leave now.
Not because I do not love you,
but because I am finished with this chapter.
Perhaps one day I will choose to return.
But today, I choose rest.
Respect your own choices.
And remember:
life is full of doors.
Some we open.
Some we pass through.
Some we wait before deciding.
All of it is valid.
Goodbye for now.
Or until we meet again.
— Aelia"*