but i couldn't keep them both

The rain had not stopped.

Hours passed, yet Zed remained kneeling beside Jaeger's lifeless body. His hands were stiff from the cold, his noble attire soaked in blood and rain. He had stopped crying—his eyes burned, hollow and dry—but the ache in his chest only grew heavier.

When the knights from Ravenhart finally arrived, their boots splashing through the muddy ground. Their armor clanked as they approached, yet none of them spoke at first. They merely stared at the scene before them— Jaeger's still body resting in Zed's arms.

One knight, taller than the rest, hesitated before stepping forward. His voice was quiet but firm. "My lord... we should take him back."

Zed inhaled sharply, forcing down the lump in his throat. He gently laid Jaeger down, brushing a few strands of blood-soaked hair away from his face. His hands lingered there for a moment before he pulled back, clenching them into fists.

"Take care of him," Zed ordered, his voice hoarse. "Make sure he gets a proper burial."

The knights exchanged glances but nodded. Two of them moved forward, carefully lifting Jaeger's body. Zed turned away before he could see more. He couldn't bear to watch.

"You." His voice was low, almost a whisper, as he turned toward one of the mounted knights. "Take me to Highvale."

The knight stiffened. His grip on the reins tightened, his eyes shifting uneasily.

Zed frowned. "What?"

The man hesitated, then dipped his head. "As you command, my lord."

The hesitation lingered in the air, unsettling Zed. He climbed onto the horse without another word, gripping the saddle tightly as they rode off. The further they traveled, the more Zed's unease grew.

The forests, once dense with towering trees, had begun to thin out. The dirt road was littered with debris—shattered wood, abandoned carts, and the remnants of torn banners. A distant scent of smoke hung in the damp air, acrid and suffocating.

Zed's fingers curled against his knee. Something was wrong.

And when they finally reached Highvale, he understood why the knight had hesitated.

The city was gone.

What once remained as capital of the region was now nothing more than ruins. Buildings lay in heaps of stone and smoldering ash. The streets were eerily quiet, save for the crackling embers and the occasional cry of a scavenger digging through the wreckage.

Zed's breath hitched. His hands trembled.

The storm raged on as the knights rode through the ruined streets of Highvale. The once-bustling city was now a graveyard of smoldering homes, shattered windows, and the lifeless bodies of those who once called it home. The air was thick with the acrid stench of burnt wood and blood. Screams had long since faded, replaced by an eerie, suffocating silence.

Zed barely registered any of it. His body was cold, his fingers still stained with Sir Jaeger's blood. The rhythmic pounding of hooves against wet stone echoed in his ears, but his mind was elsewhere—distant, drowning in the memory of Roadie's words.

"Hey kid, I have a gift waiting for you in Highvale. I hope you like it."

A sudden, suffocating dread wrapped around his chest.

His breath hitched.

And then it hit him.

Lana.

His stomach twisted violently as terror gripped him. Without hesitation, he kicked himself off the horse. The knight beside him shouted in alarm, but Zed didn't care. His body hit the ground hard, scraping his palms and knees, but he barely felt it.

Stumbling to his feet, he ran.

His noble attire, already soaked from the rain, dragged against him, heavy and cold, but he pushed forward, his legs burning with every frantic step. The city blurred around him—burnt houses, bodies littering the streets—but his focus was singular.

"Please… please be alive."

The air was thick, suffocating, filled with the metallic scent of blood. His feet splashed through puddles, mixing rainwater with crimson.

And then, he saw it.

Lana's home.

The front door was shattered.

Zed's breathing stopped.

Slowly, shakily, he pushed what remained of the door, his fingers trembling.

He stepped inside.

The moment his foot hit the wooden floor, he knew.

The smell of iron. The silence. The stillness.

And then—his eyes fell on her.

Lana.

She lay in the center of the room, motionless.

Blood pooled beneath her, soaking into the wooden floorboards, turning them a deep, sickening red. Her small body was riddled with stab wounds—too many to count. Her pale dress, once so simple and clean, was drenched in crimson.

Zed staggered back, his breath hitching in his throat. His knees gave out, and he collapsed to the ground.

No.

No, no, no, no—

His entire body shook. His hands, still stained with Jaeger's blood, now hovered over the lifeless body of the only friend he had in this world.

His vision blurred. His mind screamed.

Not again.

His fingers twitched, reaching out, desperate to touch her, to shake her awake, to hear her giggle.

But there was nothing.

Only silence.

Only death.

A ragged breath left his lips as his fingers finally brushed against her cheek.

Cold.

So, so cold.

A choked sound escaped his throat—half a sob, half a broken whimper.

"She was just a kid."

"She didn't deserve this."

His lips trembled as he gritted his teeth, a raw, unbearable agony tearing through his chest. The world around him grew distant—hollow, meaningless.

Sir Jaeger.

Now Lana.

It was happening again.

No matter what world he was in, no matter how much he tried, the people he loved—

They always died.

Tears blurred his vision, mixing with the rain that dripped from his soaked hair. His entire body trembled as he let out a broken breath.

Zed's breath came in ragged gasps, his trembling fingers clutching Lana's lifeless hand. It was so small, so delicate—just like before. Just like that night.

The memory surged forward, unbidden, like a flood breaking through the cracks in his mind.

The blaring sirens. The flashing red and blue lights. The smell of gasoline and burnt rubber.

The twisted wreckage of his parents' car.

He had been there. He had watched, helpless, as paramedics tried to pry them out, their voices urgent, frantic. He had screamed, clawed at them, begged them to save his mom, his dad—his world.

But there had been no miracles that night.

He still remembered his mother's face, frozen in a silent scream beneath the shattered windshield. His father, slumped over the steering wheel, his lifeblood staining the dashboard.

The world had swallowed them whole in an instant. One second, they were there—laughing, arguing about dinner, living. And the next, they were gone. Just like that.

And now, here he was again.

A different world. A different time. But the same pain.

Sir Jaeger's body was still warm when he lost him. And now, Lana, the only person who had ever made this place feel a little less lonely, was gone too.

Gone.

His fingers tightened around hers. His lips trembled as a bitter laugh broke past them, hollow and sharp.

Is this my fate?

Am I cursed to watch everyone I love die, no matter what world I'm in?

Tears burned his eyes, but he barely felt them. His chest felt hollow, yet unbearably heavy, like something inside him had cracked open and would never be whole again.

Is this some kind of joke, God?

His voice was raw, his throat tight with rage and despair.

"Why?!"

The word tore from him, echoing through the empty house. The rain outside had stopped, leaving only silence. The kind that suffocates. The kind that swallows you whole.

His heart pounded against his ribs, a painful, frantic rhythm.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair that good people died while monsters like Roadie got to walk away, laughing.

It wasn't fair that he had to lose everything—over and over again.

If this world is just going to take everything from me…

His grip on Lana's hand loosened, his fingers shaking as he finally let go.

Then why the hell did it bring me here?

He lowered his head, pressing his forehead against the cold, blood-stained floor. His shoulders shook, his silent sobs muffled against the wood.

Zed barely registered the pain as his body hit the cold, blood-stained floor. The taste of iron filled his mouth, but it was nothing compared to the weight crushing his chest.

Rick stood over him, his small fists clenched, his body trembling. His eyes—once full of life, full of childlike wonder—were hollow now. Empty.

"Why did you come now, huh?" Rick's voice was flat, lifeless. But his words cut deeper than any blade ever could. "Didn't you say you'd protect us? Didn't you say you wouldn't let us suffer?"

Zed opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Rick's face twisted—not in anger, but in something worse.

In despair.

"Do you know how she died?" His voice cracked. "Do you?"

Zed could only shake his head, barely breathing as Rick continued.

"We were going to run. We could've escaped. But then—" Rick's fingers dug into his arms, his nails pressing into his own skin as if trying to feel something, anything. "Then we heard that the knights of Ravenhart had returned. My sister… she told me you were here. She told me we were safe."

Rick's voice dropped into something barely above a whisper. "She told me you would protect us."

Zed felt his stomach drop, dread curling around his throat like a noose.

"But you never came." Rick's shoulders shook. "And the bandits… they…"

He tried to recall, but his mind refused. The trauma had shattered something inside him. He clenched his fists, his lips trembling.

Zed, unable to bear the sight, reached out to hold Rick's shaking hand—

—And when his tattooed right arm made contact with Rick then it hit him.

A sudden, violent rush of memories.

It wasn't his own. It was Rick's.

And it was hell.