The silver trees rustled with a sound like distant laughter—soft, wistful, and hollow.
Rin walked slowly, hand brushing against Kael's as they followed Reika deeper into the garden. Each step felt like wading through fragments of lives half-remembered, like dreams slipping between their fingers. The sky above shimmered like broken glass, refracting light through a thousand versions of sorrow.
Reika walked ahead without turning back. Her black hair flowed behind her like ink bleeding across memory, her soulsteel blade humming faintly at her side.
"She seems… different," Kael murmured. "Stronger."
"No," Rin replied. "She seems shattered. But sharp."
They came upon a clearing surrounded by weeping willows made of glass. At its center stood a low stone table, and around it were scattered remnants—mismatched cups, worn books, a faded shawl draped over the back of a chair.
It was a place of pause. Of once-gathered warmth.
And yet it pulsed with grief.
Reika stopped at the table and placed a hand on it gently, as though greeting an old friend.
"This," she said without turning, "was our home once. Not in the real world. Not in any memory that remains. But in a version of time that tried to keep us safe… and failed."
Rin stepped closer, her eyes scanning the remnants. One of the books had her name scrawled in messy, crooked ink—by Elias. Another held a pressed violet petal. Her chest ached.
Reika finally turned. "Do you want to see?"
Kael glanced at Rin, unsure. Rin gave a single nod.
"Yes," she said. "Show us."
---
Light spilled out from Reika's fingertips and curled around them like mist. The clearing shimmered—and then shifted.
Suddenly, the table was full.
Four figures sat around it, laughing. Whole. Untouched by war or curses or forgotten pasts.
Elias leaned back in his chair, hair tousled, his hand casually draped across Reika's. His eyes glowed with a quiet joy rarely seen in any version of him.
Reika sat beside him, leaning into his warmth, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips.
Kael sat to their right, one arm slung around Rin's shoulders. She had a bright, effortless smile that looked foreign to her present self. She was laughing, head thrown back, teasing Kael about something. He was blushing.
The four of them were happy.
No soul fractures. No war. No violet sigils or shattering mirrors.
Just a moment.
Just love.
The real Rin couldn't breathe.
She reached out, hand trembling, trying to touch the version of herself in the memory—but her fingers passed through.
"This…" she whispered. "When did this happen?"
Reika's voice was quiet. "In a version that never came to pass. A memory sealed in the fold between dreams and time. Elias created it—before he was taken. It was his final sanctuary. He made it for us."
The memory began to shift again.
Now Elias stood with Reika in the garden at night, lights flickering above them like fireflies. He was holding something small—an amulet shaped like a crescent moon—and slipping it around her neck.
"I don't care about destiny," he whispered in the echo. "I only care about this moment."
Reika's breath caught in the memory. She kissed him.
The real Reika looked away.
Kael reached for her shoulder. "He loved you."
"I know," she said. "That's the worst part."
---
The vision faded. The clearing was empty again. The cold of reality returned like a slap.
Rin stood frozen, Kael's hand still in hers. She hadn't let go once.
"That version of us," she whispered, "felt so real."
"It was," Reika said. "Just not ours. Not anymore."
Silence stretched between them, thick with grief and longing. Then Kael, ever steady, turned to Rin and cupped her cheek.
"I don't need the perfect version of you," he said softly. "I just want you. In every shattered, messy, brave way you exist."
Rin's throat tightened. She leaned into his touch.
"I've loved you before," she whispered. "In other lives. I remember pieces now. Little moments."
Kael's smile was small, but real. "Then let's make new ones."
---
Reika stepped away from the table. Her gaze hardened slightly, flickering toward the far end of the garden, where a dark archway waited.
"The past has shown you what was," she said. "But the path forward will show you what must be done."
Rin turned toward the arch. "Is Elias beyond that?"
Reika nodded. "And more. Truths you're not ready for. But he waits. You all have threads woven too tightly to sever."
As they moved toward the arch, Rin looked back one last time.
At the table. The cups. The ghost of a laugh still lingering in the air.
A love once lost.
And one still holding on.
--