The storm ended not with thunder, but with a breath.
Aeris opened her eyes to a world made of quiet silver. A long corridor stretched before them, floating in the void. It had no ceiling, no floor—just endless walls of reflective glass that hovered midair, tilting and shifting like puzzle pieces seeking a forgotten answer.
Each pane reflected something different.
In one, Aeris stood alone, her eyes cold, her hands dripping with Kael's blood.In another, Kael sat upon a throne of broken stars, emotionless, while entire timelines bowed before his will.And then, between those fractured illusions, one mirror caught her attention—it didn't reflect her at all.
Instead, it showed him.
Null.
But he was… different.
Younger. Vulnerable. A child with a tear-streaked face and eyes like hers—burning with confusion and longing. His small hands reached out through the mirror, fingers trembling.
"Do you see it now?" a voice whispered behind her.
She turned sharply—only to find her own reflection walking toward her, separating itself from the glass.
It looked like her. Moved like her. But its smile was all wrong.
"You keep trying to fix everything," the reflection said. "But what if some versions of you wanted it broken?"
Kael stepped into the corridor behind her, eyes narrowed. "It's a construct. A manipulation."
"No," the Aeris-reflection replied, her hair slowly unraveling into tendrils of shadow, "I am the part of her that was born when her heart broke for the first time and no one stayed to help her stitch it back."
The walls flickered, showing Aeris's childhood—her foster homes, the quiet betrayals, the moments when she learned to smile while hiding bruises. The reflection stepped closer, nose almost touching hers.
"You forgave Kael. But you never forgave yourself."
Aeris didn't flinch. Not this time. "That's because I never had time to fall apart."
The reflection tilted its head. "Then maybe… it's time."
And just like that, the corridor exploded into a storm of mirrors. Hundreds of Aerises and Kaels spiraled through the void, caught in scenes both tender and terrifying. Each version collided, shattered, merged. Screams echoed like wind chimes made of soul.
Kael grabbed Aeris's arm, pulling her close, shielding her with his body as fragments of alternate selves sliced through space.
She looked up at him, breath shallow. "Do you trust me?"
"With every future I have."
She closed her eyes—and opened her soul.
Light burst from her chest, a golden ripple of pure, unfiltered memory. It expanded outward like a supernova of grief and love combined, touching every mirror, every version of herself. Each reflection paused, as if truly seeing her for the first time.
"I'm not afraid of who I was," Aeris whispered. "Because she made me who I am."
The corridor stilled.
The mirrors sank into the void like falling feathers.
Silence returned—this time not hollow, but warm.
Kael brushed a strand of hair from her face, his thumb trailing a gentle line across her cheek. "You keep saving yourself," he said softly. "It's… beautiful to watch."
She smirked, though her eyes shimmered. "I was trained by the best."
Then, from the distance, came a pulse.
Like a heartbeat—massive, ancient, and growing louder.
A circular gateway formed ahead, carved from black stone that bled stars. Upon it, three symbols glowed:
⟡ The Eye of the Rift⟡ The Hand of the Lost⟡ The Flame That Remembers
Dray's voice echoed faintly through the void, reaching them like a whisper across galaxies.
"You've crossed through time's heart. What comes next... is what was meant to be forgotten."
Kael reached for Aeris's hand.
"Ready?" he asked.
She nodded. "Let's remember what they wanted erased."
Together, they stepped through the gate.
And the universe wept in anticipation.