CHAPTER SEVENTY THREE

The air was dense, thick with silence. It curled in the corners of the room like fog that refused to lift. Alva stood before him—before the man she had loved, feared, and longed for. Cody sat on the edge of the bed, his hands resting on his knees, unmoving.

The strange mark on his chest pulsed faintly beneath his skin, flickering like an ember refusing to die.

Alva reached forward.

Her hand trembled, hovering just above it.

He didn't stop her.

Her fingers brushed the edges of the faded tattoo—and the world split.

Her breath caught.

The room collapsed.

Light exploded around her like a storm. She stumbled, her feet landing not on wooden floors but snow. Black snow. The sky overhead churned like molten ash. The air tasted of fire and salt.

And she was no longer in their home.

She was in his memory.

But not as a ghost—as herself.

And Cody was there, too. Not the Cody she knew now, but younger. Gentler. His eyes soft, unbroken. His hair untamed by sorrow. His hand was tangled with a girl's—a girl who radiated warmth like a hearth in winter. Her name didn't need to be spoken. Alva felt it.

Lyselle.

She laughed, head tilted, gold leaves caught in her braids.

"You're not a monster," she told him. "You just need someone to remind you of who you are."

Alva's chest squeezed. The Cody beside Lyselle… he was happy. Truly happy. And for a moment, Alva almost couldn't breathe.

But peace in cursed worlds never lasts.

Screams pierced the memory like swords. Fire danced in the distance. Torches. Shouts. Steel. The people had come. They weren't afraid of monsters—they were afraid of difference.

Alva was dragged along with him as Cody ran.

He found her. They were too late.

Lyselle stood tied to a stake, her white dress soaked in wine, flames licking her ankles.

"Run!" Cody roared, but she shook her head.

"I'm not leaving you," Lyselle whispered, her eyes on him.

And then the fire rose.

Alva screamed—but no sound left her mouth. She could feel the searing of Cody's soul. His pain. His rage. His helplessness. It coursed through her blood like venom.

And then… the transformation began.

His scream tore through the world. Wings ripped from his back — dark, scaled, enormous. His skin turned obsidian at the edges, his eyes bled red and blue, glowing like twin moons in eclipse. His fangs lengthened, but not for hunger—for grief.

The ground split. The sky howled.

The Tree bloomed behind him, bathed in crimson light. Its petals opened like mouths, feeding on his pain. Magic ancient and divine twisted the air, rooting into his very bones.

The mark on his chest blazed.

He slaughtered them all. Not blindly—but one by one. They begged. They cried. They burned like she did.

And still it wasn't enough.

Alva tried to run to him, to scream his name—but she couldn't. She was trapped in the memory, shackled to his agony.

Then Serena arrived.

Her face young, but already weary. Her long black robes shimmered with tree dust and enchantments. She dropped to her knees beside him, whispering incantations, binding spells.

He fought her off. Rage-drunk. Lost.

Then came Tim.

Broken. Howling. The Beast already in him. He roared into the wind, tearing at his own flesh.

And then… Vicky.

Sweet Vicky.

Dressed in white, carrying herbs. A healer's pouch at her side.

"I can fix him," she said.

"No!" Serena shouted. "Don't touch the roots!"

But Vicky reached anyway. Her fingers grazed the glowing root of the tree.

It pulsed.

It claimed her.

Her eyes rolled back. Her lips split into a cruel smile. The light inside her flickered… then vanished.

Vicarra was born.

Alva sobbed. "She was trying to save him…"

The world shifted again—faster now. Flash after flash.

A throne made of twisted branches. Cody kneeling. The gods screaming above. Shadows crawling from beneath the bark.

The Tree had chosen its heir.

Cody didn't speak—but Alva heard his voice in her mind.

"I didn't ask for this."

"I didn't want to become him."

"But when you lose the only person who believed you were good… you stop trying to be good."

The vision dimmed.

And suddenly—they were back.

The mark on Cody's chest faded beneath her fingers. Her cheeks were soaked. Her breathing ragged.

Cody sat across from her. The shadows beneath his eyes were endless.

"I didn't want you to see that," he murmured.

"I needed to," Alva replied, her voice raw.

He looked down.

"I don't know if there's anything left of me to save."

She touched his face. "There is. I saw it… before everything broke."

He shook his head. "That was a different life. A different Cody."

She leaned in, resting her forehead against his. "Then let's grow something new from the ashes."

His hands trembled.

"But what if I hurt you?"

"Then I'll hurt with you," she said.