Reborn For A Wish

'You've died thousands of times,

Each time-altering yourself to become someone you are not.

From the midst of destruction,

You became yourself the creator,

From the midst of darkness, you became your own light.'

- LOVE:less act 4 -.

…

Nion opened her eyes. The world had changed, yet it remained the same. The breeze that touched her skin was no longer from the abyss, but from the real world, carrying the coolness of evening over the landscape.

Her silver hair stirred in the wind as she took in her surroundings. She was no longer lost in the depths of that suffocating nothingness. She was back at the borders of Elpida. At the place where she had executed Pipola, the mother of Asta and Alexis.

The remnants of Elpida's borders stretched before her, unchanged yet hauntingly surreal. The trees stood like silent sentinels, their branches weighed down by the moisture in the air. The dirt road, lined with broken stones and trampled grass, bore the ghosts of footprints long since erased by time. The skeletal remains of old wooden markers, once standing tall to ward off intruders, were now nothing more than rotting husks, forgotten and abandoned.

And in the center of it all—where she had once stood, where Pipola had knelt—the earth felt heavier. The spot was empty now, but the echoes of that moment remained, burned into the very ground like a scar that would never fade.

She could still hear it.

The soft weeping of a mother pleading for her children's lives. The sharp whisper of steel slicing through the air. The way the world had stood still, for just a breath, before crumbling into silence.

Her fingers twitched at her sides.

"Why am I here…?" Her voice was barely a whisper, swallowed by the vast emptiness surrounding her. "Is this another nightmare?" Her throat tightened.

But no dream had ever felt like this. The weight in her chest, the damp air filling her lungs, the way her skin prickled under the cold touch of the evening wind—it was all too real. The silence was suffocating, pressing down on her like unseen hands. Yet, beneath the stillness, she felt something stir. A presence.

A faint tremor rippled through the air, not in sound, but in sensation—something unseen, something just beyond her reach. The weight of unseen eyes pressed against her back. She wasn't alone. Something was waiting for her here, and it had no intention of letting her leave.

"I am so sorry for what I did to you...All of you. I cannot find the words to express how guilty and ashamed I feel for destroying your lives..." Nion lamented.

Unable to move or to interact, an immersive wave of unknown emotions was filling Nion's heart. Immediately she realized that her heart and mind had been connected with Pipola's. Nion was trapped, a prisoner of her nightmare, forced to relive the horrors that she made Pipola go through as if she were in her skin.

The mother of two looked up through the haze of her tears, her vision wavering as she gazed upon the figure looming before her. The real Nion. The one who had sealed her fate.

Clad in black from head to toe, she looked more like a shadow given form rather than a person. The high-collared coat she wore was perfectly tailored, its long, sharp-cut hem fluttering in the wind like the tattered wings of a specter. Silver clasps lined the front, cold and rigid, catching the dull light of the overcast sky. Her gloves—pristine, untouched by the blood she had spilled—clenched into fists at her sides, betraying no hesitation, no regret.

Her silver hair, long and flowing, framed her pale face like a frozen waterfall, strands lifting ever so slightly in the evening breeze. There was something unnatural about how it contrasted against the void-black of her uniform, like a blade of moonlight cutting through the night. But it was her eyes that paralyzed Pipola more than anything else.

A pair of lifeless amethysts, their brilliance dulled by something far worse than cruelty—indifference. They held no hatred, no satisfaction, not even the cold precision of a soldier following orders. They were void of emotion, as if the girl before her had never truly been human at all.

Pipola shuddered, her body instinctively shrinking back as her breath came in shallow gasps. Was this what death looked like? Not a raging monster, not a merciless beast—but a silent phantom, standing still as the world crumbled at its feet.

The executioner watched her with an expression that wasn't unkind, nor was it cruel. It was simply… empty. And that, Pipola realized, was the cruelest thing of all.

"I will pray to the gods. I will pray to the devils themselves if it means I can protect you," Pipola wept, her voice trembling as the inevitable moment of separation closed in. "Because I… cannot protect you anymore."

"Don't leave us! Please! Mama, don't leave us!" Alexis and Asta clung to her desperately, their tiny fingers grasping at her clothing, as if their grip alone could keep her from fading away. Their tears soaked into the fabric of her dress, their small hands trembling with fear. Pipola pulled them closer, pressing them against her chest as if she could shield them from the cruel fate that awaited her.

Her breath came in short, unsteady gasps as she stroked their damp hair, whispering words she knew would never be enough. "You must take care of each other. Stay together… always."

Asta whimpered, burying his face into her shoulder. Alexis held on tighter, his sobs muffled against her trembling frame.

Pipola swallowed the lump in her throat, closing her eyes for a brief moment. She didn't want them to see her fear. She wanted her last moments with them to be filled with warmth, not the cold finality that loomed over them.

But the moment had arrived. The wind crackled as Nion's shadow and the mother locked eyes, neither blinking, neither looking away. Unstoppable tears of resignation streamed down Nion's face, silent witnesses to a moment she wished had never existed. She strained against the nightmare, an agonizing struggle against an invisible force that held her captive. There was no gravity, no escape—only the weight of inevitability crushing her from all sides. She floated in the abyss of time, unable to turn away, unable to close her eyes, forced to watch as the scene unraveled once more toward its dreadful conclusion. Every fiber of her being screamed to reach out, to interfere, to stop it before it was too late. If she could just rewind—just a little further back—how much would she have to undo before this tragedy was erased? Before this never had to happen?

The silver-haired executioner raised her hand.

After years of running, of clinging to the fragile hope of a better life, Pipola's last reason to endure was slipping away. The sole force that had kept her waking up every morning, pushing forward despite the hunger, the fear, the exhaustion—was about to be torn from her. And in that moment, for the first time, Nion understood why she had fought so desperately to find Asta. She finally grasped the depth of the emotion that had driven her to the edge, the force that had burned inside Pipola even as she knelt in surrender. It was something far beyond duty or desperation.

It was a mother's love.

A love so fierce it would defy gods and demons alike. A love that did not yield to reason, did not bow to fear. It would fight, no matter the cost, against anything that dared to threaten its child. It was a love that whispered, "I will give my life for you, without hesitation, without regret."

No agony Nion had endured before compared to the raw suffering that tore through her now. Pipola's emotions, her despair, her unwavering devotion flooded through Nion's very being, scorching her from within. It was unbearable, overwhelming—a wound far deeper than flesh.

Shadows coiled around her, stretching, darkening, suffocating everything in their path. The world around them unraveled into an abyss of swirling black and grey, as if the very fabric of reality was being swallowed by the weight of what was about to happen. Only a single space remained untouched—where Pipola knelt, her arms still wrapped protectively around her sons.

"You've done nothing wrong," Pipola murmured, her voice steady despite the trembling in her limbs. She lifted her gaze, her eyes meeting the executioner's one last time. "The world we live in is...."

The darkness swallowed Nion's vision whole. Weightlessness.

Her feet touched solid ground, but the sensation was wrong—hollow, as if the earth beneath her was merely a fragile imitation of reality. Her body, untethered moments ago, now felt anchored in place.

For a fleeting moment, she thought it was over. That she had finally escaped, but the nightmare wasn't finished.

A flicker of light pulsed in the distance, cutting through the void. It was not warm. It did not offer comfort. It glowed unnaturally, a hollow brightness that felt as cold as the abyss she had just left.

Then, heat… Lots of it… It licked at Nion's arms, creeping up her body like the slow caress of something alive. Flames bloomed across her jacket, twisting and writhing over the fabric like hungry serpents. But there was no pain. No agony. The fire danced over her skin without consuming it, its embered glow tracing the shape of her limbs, defining her in the darkness. A paradox of destruction and preservation, and somewhere, beyond the fire, beyond the void, a voice whispered "Kill them all..."

The next time she blinked, Nion was walking out of the bonfire, in her arms, the crisped remains of the child lay limp, weightless, as if the soul had long since departed, leaving behind nothing but brittle, blackened flesh.

Her body moved on its own. She had no control, no will to resist. She was trapped inside herself, a spectator in her nightmare, forced to endure the suffocating grip of fate yet again.

Beyond the flames, a thin silhouette lunged into the fire, a shadow cutting through the chaos. Hands reached for her, grasping at her arms, trying to pull her free from the burning wreckage. But Nion's vision was clouded, her mind entangled in the echoes of violence. In the fevered haze of delirium, she saw not a savior, but a foe—the masked man with the yellow crest, returning to take the child from her.

Instinct overpowered reason. In less than a second, her weapon was drawn, slicing through the heat with a devastating blow. The stranger had no time to react.

The force of the blow sent them hurtling backward, their body soaring through the fire like a ragdoll, before crashing into the watery mud with a sickening thud.

It was Seànn.

The realization did not register in Nion's fractured mind. She only saw a threat. A target. A force trying to take away the only thing left in her arms.

Flat on her back, Seànn groaned as the shock of the impact rattled through her body. The mud beneath her soaked into her uniform, cold water seeping into the fabric. Had it not been for the metal plates embedded in her Keeper's suit, the sheer force of the attack would have shattered her skull on impact. Even now, the protective layers pulsed from the strain of the impact, the energy dispersing through the reinforced armor.

"That is—" she coughed, forcing herself up onto her elbows, "not good..."

Her voice barely reached Nion.

The silver-haired girl carefully set the child's corpse down, as if placing something fragile onto an altar. Her hands lingered for a second before she straightened, her eyes dark with a maddening stillness. The flames reflected in her gaze, twin pools of seething amethyst. She looked at Seànn, but she did not see her. She only saw an enemy.

"It will be over soon," she whispered to the lifeless body.

Seànn observed her, expression unreadable. The weight of the situation was clear—there was no reasoning with her like this.

"This is a problem," she stated, barely above a murmur, her voice devoid of urgency, but not of recognition.

Nion had moved, stepping away from the body, she walked with sinister calm toward the wooden cross where the masked man had left his grotesque message, carved into human flesh. The movement was deliberate, methodical—each step a ritual leading her deeper into madness.

"Everything... Everything... Everything..." Nion mumbled, her voice a fragile thread unraveling into the night.

Seànn shifted her stance, calculating. She measured the distance, the likelihood of restraining her, the margin for failure. "Nion stop," she ordered.

"If only... you never existed...!" Nion's whisper carried no hesitation, only certainty. Her fingers curled around the wooden cross, and with terrifying ease, she ripped it from the ground. Dirt and blood-soaked roots clung to its base, but she paid them no mind.

"Ah... I got it now..." Her grip tightened. She turned, eyes locking onto Seànn, a slow, sickening grin stretching across her face.

"I just have to kill you all..."

"Tell me what happened here, I can certainly help," Seànn advised as her fingers flexed slightly at her sides, but her expression remained unmoved, ready for the unexpected.

In the past Seànn had witnessed countless breakdowns, seen men reduced to nothing but instinct and rage. This, however, was not mere hysteria. This was something else entirely.

"Put that down and let's have a conversation, I am here to help," she tried to reason with the unstoppable force of hatred.

Nion's breath hitched, her body trembling with uncontrolled energy.

Seànn adjusted her stance, bracing herself, knowing that words would no longer reach her. "Restraint would be necessary. One way or another."

"Hey… What did you feel when you were torturing those people?" Nion's voice carried an eerie lightness, as if she were discussing the weather rather than the horrors of the past. She hoisted the wooden cross over her shoulder, "You remember, don't you? You said you'd enjoy watching me suffer." Her lips curled into something twisted, a mockery of a smile.

Seànn stood motionless, her gaze steady, her expression indecipherable. Nion, you are making a mistake. I am not your enemy."

"I GOT NO ENEMIES!" Her voice cracked the silence like a thunderclap. In a single motion, Nion hurled the wooden cross with terrifying force, her raw strength turning it into a projectile.

Seànn's instincts screamed at her. She moved—just barely. The wooden beam sliced through the space where her head had been an instant before, its velocity sending a shock-wave through the air. A heartbeat later, it struck a smoldering house behind her, detonating on impact. The charred structure collapsed in a shower of embers and shattered timber, the flames devouring what little remained.

But Seànn had no time to acknowledge it. Because in the space of that breath, Nion was already upon her. A flash of silver. A blur of movement. She barely registered Nion's presence before a devastating middle kick slammed into her chest. The impact was bone-shattering. She felt her ribs strain under the force as she was sent flying backward, crashing through the weakened walls of another burning house. The moment she hit the ground, the structure groaned and collapsed around her, raining debris and embered wood over her body.

Coughing through the thick smoke, Seànn pushed against the wreckage, her vision swimming. The moment she attempted to move, pain flared across her torso. Fractured ribs, maybe worse. She wasn't at full capacity—not even close—but retreat wasn't an option.

"My words can't reach her. I have to find a way to stop her."

Above the howling wind, Nion's voice echoed with raw hysteria. "ARE YOU AFRAID OF DEATH?!" Her scream was sharp, unstable. "Because you should be! I will make it long and painful!" She stalked forward, stepping over the charred remains of the ruined house.

Seànn wiped blood from her lips, shifting through the debris. A shattered chandelier lay inches from her hand, the once-grand fixture now reduced to twisted metal and glass. The scent of smoke and burning wood filled the air, mixing with the metallic tang of blood. She spotted Nion through the flickering flames—her silhouette cast in violent gold.

"Come on! You wanted to see me suffer, didn't you?!"

Before Seànn could fully regain her footing, Nion stormed forward, her presence a vortex of destruction.

Seànn planted her feet, but she was too slow. A heavy boot crashed into her ribs, the impact sending her flying backward into the shattered remains of a dining table. The brittle wood collapsed beneath her, jagged splinters digging into her back as pain exploded through her chest.

Nion didn't hesitate seizing a jagged table leg from the debris. Her fingers curled around the rough, splintered wood, her grip tightening as she raised it high. Without a second thought, she drove it downward.

The impact was immediate.

The crude weapon plunged into Seànn's side, tearing through muscle and tissue with sickening ease. A sharp gasp escaped her lips as a bolt of agony surged through her body. Blood seeped into the fabric of her uniform, the pain radiating outward in waves, but her mind didn't falter.

Wounded but still fighting, even with the table leg still buried in her side, Seànn locked Nion's wrist then executed a sharp, painful combo—calculated strikes meant to incapacitate, not kill. A blow to the diaphragm, a precise hit to the nerve clusters near her collarbone. A joint lock to keep her pinned.

"Enough," she ordered, but it didn't work. Seànn brought up her arm to block, but her opponent shoved it aside with sheer brute force.

Nion absorbed the pain like a void swallowing light, her expression twisting in something that was neither anger nor agony—it was elation. The pain only fueled her.

Seànn had always been the superior fighter, experienced and methodical, but her injuries had left her slower, weaker. She could already tell—this was not going to be a fight she could win through skill alone.

Nion moved like a beast unchained. Her attacks came relentlessly, her strikes wild yet precise. Seànn could barely keep up, barely anticipate the next strike before it was already upon her. She dodged left. Another kick. She blocked with her elbow. The impact stung like a sledgehammer against bone. Then, in a sudden burst of speed, Nion closed in, her fist burying itself deep into Seànn's stomach. Another brutal impact followed by a surge of pain. Seànn gasped, her body rebelling against the abuse, her muscles screaming for reprieve. Her vision blurred, the taste of iron flooding her mouth.

She tried to push Nion back, tried to break free from her grip—but Nion's strength was overwhelming. She drove her knee into Seànn's stomach again, and again, and again. Each strike sent a new wave of agony ripping through her body, each blow shattering what little defense she had left.

Nion's hands shot to her throat. "BECAUSE OF YOU, EVERYONE IS DEAD!" her scream was animalistic, filled with a grief so consuming it had turned into pure, unrestrained wrath. Seànn clawed at Nion's grip, but the silver-haired girl only tightened her hold, her fingers pressing into her windpipe like a vice. Black spots began to cloud Seànn's vision, the lack of oxygen turning her limbs sluggish.

"Why did you do this?!" Nion's entire body trembled, but not from exertion—from rage, from devastation, from a torment so deep it had hollowed her out and left nothing but this violent, raging shell.

Seànn's hands flexed against Nion's wrists, trying to break free, but she could already feel herself fading.

This wasn't a battle anymore. This was a killing, and Nion wasn't stopping. Seànn had only seconds left. She had to act, now.

With the last breath Seànn adjusted, shifting to a more controlled hold, twisting Nion's arm behind her back in an attempt to subdue her. "Quarta Keeper, I order you to stop," she tightened her grip, ensuring maximum pressure on the joints. A normal fighter would have surrendered. A soldier would have at least hesitated, but Nion did neither.

With a sickening pop, she dislocated her own shoulder, tearing free from Seànn's grasp without so much as a wince. The sudden break in control sent Seànn off balance, and Nion capitalized instantly. Before Seànn could react, Nion's grip latched onto her leg. With terrifying strength, she swung Seànn's body like a ragdoll, hurling her through the remains of the collapsed house. The world spun as Seànn crashed through broken beams and shattered glass, her body hitting the ground outside with a devastating impact.

A sharp, sickening crack shot through her ribs as she landed. Mud and embers swirled in the air around. Her muscles screamed in protest, but she had no time for pain. She groaned, forcing herself up, tearing the remains of the broken table leg from her chest. Blood dripped freely down her sleeve, but the pain was irrelevant. The real threat loomed before her—Nion.

"Where was this power coming from?" The thought clawed at the edges of her mind, sharp and insistent. The girl she had trained, the one who had always been a step behind her, no longer existed. What stood before her now was something monstrous. She wasn't just matching Seànn—she was surpassing her. And if Seànn didn't do something fast, she wasn't going to make it out of this fight alive.

Seànn's mind raced through options, analyzing every angle, every possible outcome. A direct attack wouldn't work—Nion was faster now, unpredictable, reckless in a way that made her more dangerous than ever. Defensive maneuvers would only delay the inevitable. She needed a way to subdue her, to break her down piece by piece until she couldn't fight anymore. She exhaled sharply, tilting her head slightly as if speaking to the empty air. "Operator, I know you're listening."

A brief silence followed. Then, a faint crackle. "Yes." The distorted mechanical voice finally responded, crackling through an unseen channel.

Nion emerged from the collapsed house like a specter of vengeance, her silver hair drenched in sweat and ash, her bare arms smeared with blood that was not her own. She tossed her shredded jacket to the ground and unsheathed her weapon in a single, fluid motion. The air thrummed with tension as she lowered it to her side, her fingers tightening around the hilt. No hesitation. No restraint.

"This bonfire will be your grave!" she spat, the word laced with venom. "I will put an end to your miserable existence."

A gust of wind howled through the fractured beams, sending embers spiraling into the air like fireflies in the night. The flames licked hungrily at the remnants of the structure, the wooden supports collapsing inward with a tortured creak, sending a fresh wave of ash billowing around her. She didn't flinch.

Her eyes shifted toward the motionless figure in the rubble—Seànn, barely stirring, half-buried beneath broken stone and splintered wood. This was no longer a fight. This was an execution, and Nion was ready to deliver the final blow.

Seànn exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders as she straightened, her stance shifting. She had been holding back—partly to conserve what little strength she had left, partly because she had still hoped to reason with Nion. But that was no longer an option.

"I am a weapon, sworn to protect the endless horizons of his kingdom. Death shall fall upon those who scornfully ignore his orders, guided by the blade of my sword. In the name of the King, I shall take your life," Sean chanted the physical enhancement activation code.

A low, mechanical hum resonated from within her core. The implants embedded deep in her body surged to life, a pulse of bioelectric energy rippling through her muscles like an awakening beast. Her nerves sharpened, her perception expanded—every movement, every breath, every tremor in the ruined earth beneath them became painfully clear. Strength flooded her limbs, the weight of exhaustion pushed to the back of her mind. The pain, the wounds, the limitations—they no longer mattered.

She was now operating at full capacity—the Seconda Keeper, the second strongest warrior in the Lands of Aleksithimia.

"If I can get the Kanjōga back on her… maybe this will end." Seànn bursted forward, the force of her movements creating shockwaves beneath her boots. She wasn't holding back anymore.

Both Keepers faced each other in the ruins of a forgotten world. Ash rained softly from the collapsing buildings, settling onto the blood-soaked dirt. The remnants of Elpida lay in stillness, as if the world itself had stopped to witness the coming battle.

Nion swung her blade in a vicious slash, and Seànn ducked under it, feeling the wind from the strike cut through the air. She twisted, aiming a precise counterstrike to Nion's ribs, but before she could land the hit, Nion spun inhumanly fast, catching Seànn's arm and wrenching it with monstrous strength.

Seànn gritted her teeth as pain flared through her elbow, but she retaliated instantly, slamming her forehead into Nion's face. The impact sent Nion staggering, blood dripping from her nose, but the silver-haired warrior only smiled, wiping it away with the back of her hand. Her eyes gleamed with manic ecstasy, lost in the chaos and destruction.

"You're finally fighting me seriously," Nion laughed, voice almost delirious. She dashed forward, her speed beyond human comprehension, her form becoming a blur as she reappeared behind Seànn, blade thrusting toward her spine.

Seànn reacted in time, twisting her body unnaturally to intercept the attack with her forearm. The force was staggering—her reinforced bones absorbed the impact, but the pain was still white-hot. She lashed out with a crushing back-kick, sending Nion flying into the remains of the extinguished bonfire. The ruined structure collapsed around her, sending a cloud of orange dust into the air.

Seànn exhaled sharply, her mind racing. This was unsustainable. Nion's strength, her raw aggression—it was surpassing even her own enhanced limits. If she continued like this, she might be forced to do something irreversible. She flexed her fingers. Nion's Kanjōga was her only hope. If she could get close enough, if she could just force it back around Nion's neck, perhaps there was a chance.

The dust barely had time to settle before Nion exploded from the debris, her body twisting mid-air, blade arcing down like a guillotine.

Seànn braced herself, crossing her arms to absorb the upcoming impact. But she miscalculated. The moment the blade made contact, the force behind it shattered her defenses. The reinforced plating beneath her skin cracked, her left arm taking the brunt of the strike. Followed by the searing pain. Her arm didn't just break—it was severed. Her body jerked as the dismembered limb spun through the air, landing in the bloodstained dirt with a sickening thud. But Seànn didn't scream. She reacted instantly, spinning through the pain, blood spraying as she rammed her knee into Nion's stomach with bone-crushing force. Nion coughed violently, the blood driven from her lungs, but she barely had time to react before Seànn followed up—grabbing her by the throat with her remaining hand, using her entire body's weight to slam her into the ground. The earth cracked beneath them.

Pinned beneath Seànn's weight, Nion thrashed violently, her limbs contorting in a desperate bid for freedom. With a sickening pop, she dislocated her shoulder once again, twisting her body unnaturally to slip free. But Seànn was faster this time.

Before Nion could break away, Seànn slammed the Kanjōga around her neck, locking it in place with an unrelenting grip. For a moment, there was silence. Then—Nion convulsed.

Nion's body jolted violently, the suppressor kicking in with full force draining her madness away.. Every muscle fought against itself, twitching, spasming, as if she were resisting something unseen. Her fingers clawed at the ground, struggling, but the fight wasn't external anymore. This time, the battle was happening inside her. A choked gasp left her lips as the device reactivated, sending neural signals directly into her brain. Her enhanced strength flickered, her body shook uncontrollably. The unrestrained madness in her gaze wavered—fear, confusion, pain—all crashing into her at once. Seànn stayed on top of her, blood still pouring from the stump where her arm had once been. She didn't move. Didn't speak. She only watched, waiting—hoping—that this battle was finally over.

Nion's erratic movements slowed. Her fingers, which had been clawing at Seànn's grip moments ago, trembled before finally falling limp. The fire in her gaze dimmed, the raw, uncontrollable violence fading into something else entirely—confusion, pain… sorrow. Then, her first tear fell. It landed softly against the muddy ground, then another. Until the girl beneath her was quietly weeping.

"I…" Nion choked, her voice hoarse. Her chest heaved with silent sobs, unable to form the words that had been buried under layers of rage and grief. "I am sorry… so, so sorry…"

Seànn didn't move, didn't react immediately. She only observed—the girl who had nearly killed her, the girl she had barely managed to stop.

The silence between them stretched, fragile, unbroken—hanging like the moment before a glass shatters.

"I am sorry," Nion whispered again, her tears soaking into the dirt. "I… I couldn't stop myself..." Her breath hitched, body shaking harder beneath Seànn's weight. "All I do is hurt people… I am no better than these men…"

Seànn let out a slow breath, exhaustion pulling at her limbs. After a moment, she shifted, gripping Nion's wrist and helping her to sit up. Her touch was precise, neither comforting nor cold—simply necessary.

"You're wrong," she stated flatly. "You are one of the bravest people I have ever met."

Nion sobbed harder, her body breaking under the weight of emotions she could no longer suppress.

"I am a murderer," she whispered, voice barely above a breath. "I killed so many… So many innocent people…"

Seànn remained still, allowing Nion to speak, to grieve—to let it out.

"You were trying to do what you thought was right," she said after a long silence. "You carried everything alone. The weight of your choices, the consequences." She paused, considering her words. "At your age, I wasn't nearly as strong as you. I didn't care about anything beyond myself, driven only by revenge for someone I lost." A brief hesitation. "So, I understand."

Nion's fingers curled into fists. "Look around," she whispered, voice raw. "This is what I've done. This is the result of my choices… What was it all worth, if I couldn't protect anyone? All I did was make things worse."

Seànn watched her carefully, her expression giving nothing away. "Making mistakes is part of existence," she said at last. "No matter who we are, what we are—our past and our failures remain. I have regrets, too. There are things I wish I could erase, but I can't." Her grip on Nion's wrist loosened slightly. "For a long time, I tried to reject my past. But in the end, I realized that if I don't learn to live with it—if I don't acknowledge it—nobody else will."

Nion turned her head away, closing her eyes, but the tears kept falling.

Seànn let the silence stretch before she spoke again. "No one can change what's already happened," she said. "But if you regret something, then ensure you never repeat the same mistake."

Nion swallowed, her body still trembling beneath her.

"I didn't know what happened here," Seànn admitted. "I don't know everything that led up to this moment, but you shouldn't carry this alone." A brief pause. "Let's work together. I will assist you however I can." She squeezed Nion's wrist lightly—not as reassurance, not as comfort. Just as a fact. As something real.

The flashback ended abruptly, lingering on the warmth of Seànn's final words.

Nion was back in the void—cold, empty, yet somehow different. For the first time since she had arrived in this desolate abyss, she felt a new type of warmth. All around her, thousands of figures began to emerge like candles being lit one by one. People of all ages, from children to the elderly, stood scattered across the darkness, their gazes fixed upon her. It was as if they had been waiting—waiting for something, for someone.

She could feel it, the way they regarded her, as though she were a distant light they had once known, lost in the depths of this endless void. The warmth wrapped around her like an embrace, dissolving the chaotic whispers and intrusive thoughts that had tormented her for so long. The oppressive weight in her chest lightened, and she could move freely for the first time in what felt like eternity.

The darkness shattered like fragile glass, fragments peeling away piece by piece, making way for a golden radiance that flooded the space. The void dissolved into pure, blinding light. Exhaustion settled deep into her bones, heavier than anything she had ever known. She felt herself drifting, her body surrendering to the overwhelming fatigue of the journey she had endured.

She sank onto the warm ground beneath her, breathing slow and steady. As she prepared to close her eyes, returning—finally—to reality, she heard footsteps approaching.

Then, a child's voice.

"We are part of you. All of us," the child whispered.

Soft voices followed, rising in a gentle, rhythmic chant.

"Creator, watch us... Creator, embrace us..."

Their voices echoed around her, fading into the distance as sleep took her once more.