The room buzzed with new energy—people moving, gathering weapons, exchanging whispered plans. But I stood still in the center of the flickering light, unmoving, while the weight inside me grew heavier with each breath.
The feather in my hand dimmed… not from magic, but from doubt.
I turned away from the others, slipping into a quiet alcove of the cave where the light didn't reach. The shadows there welcomed me like an old memory.
I leaned against the wall, heart racing, thoughts spiraling.
What was I doing?
Peace… war… they sounded like ideals on paper. But out here—in here—they were riddles with no right answers.
They want you to fight.They want you to stay calm.They want you to be hope.They want you to burn it all down.They want peace.They want victory.They want you.
But what did I want?
I closed my eyes and let the silence press in. And that's when the deeper war began—inside me.
Part of me still held the love I couldn't fully bury: for Kai… for the way he once looked at me like I was all that mattered in a broken world. For the person he could still become.
But just beneath that love, another feeling stirred—rage. Not just at the enemies hunting me. But at the systems, the legends, the choices I never asked for but now had to carry like a crown made of blades.
I slammed my fist against the stone. "I didn't ask to be a symbol."
I wanted to believe in peace. I wanted it more than anything. But how do you make peace with people who only see you as a weapon or a prize?
And worse…
How do you not become the monster they fear, when burning it all down is the only path they give you?
A quiet voice broke my storm of thought. The child had followed me again, stepping into the dark alcove without a sound.
"Are you afraid of becoming them?" they asked softly.
I looked at them, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm afraid that the more I fight… the more I lose the part of me that remembers why I ever wanted peace."
The child nodded, stepping closer.
"Then maybe your war… isn't against them first," they said. "Maybe it's the one inside you that has to end."
I stared at them, breath unsteady.
And deep down, I knew—they were right.
Before I could face the enemy, I had to face myself.
I looked down at the child standing before me, their face half-lit by the flickering torchlight.
Their eyes were too old for their age. Eyes that had seen things no child should. Eyes that carried stories of loss… and yet still managed to hold hope.
My heart twisted.
This war wasn't about prophecy. It wasn't about me.
It was about them.
The ones still alive. The ones still watching. The ones too young to carry blades, but old enough to carry fear.
I knelt in front of the child, my voice steady now. "What's your name?"
They blinked, surprised. "Lira."
I nodded. "Lira… how many other children are down here?"
Lira looked back toward the cavern. "Nine. Maybe ten. Some don't speak anymore."
My throat tightened.
I had lost so much. Mary. My time. My place in the world. And now, a war that threatened to take everything else.
But in this moment—looking into Lira's eyes—I knew what I had to do.
Not because I wanted revenge. Not even because I believed I could win.
But because they deserved a future.
Even if my plan failed. Even if peace broke and I burned with it. They could still live.
I rose slowly to my feet, the feather glowing once more in my hand—soft but brighter, responding to my resolve.
"I'll fight," I said aloud.
Lira tilted her head. "Against them?"
"No," I said, stepping into the light again, my voice echoing through the chamber. "For you. For all of you."
Heads turned. Conversations stopped.
"I'll fight," I said again, louder now, "not because I want war. But because I want something left after it. If I fall… let it be buying time for the ones who can build something better."
I looked around at the survivors—at the children clinging to parents, at the men and women who had lost everything but still stood.
"I can't promise we'll win. But I'll fight like I have nothing left to lose—because what we have left is worth everything."
Lira smiled faintly.
And I felt it: the storm inside me quieting… the first peace I had known in days.
The war was coming.
But I would meet it on my own terms.
Back to Kai:
The forest had gone still, but Kai's mind hadn't.
The vision still haunted him—Anna surrounded by fire and darkness, her blade rising against an oncoming tide of enemies… alone.
And now the Chief's message echoed louder:
They want her as a bride.They will strike without mercy.She is the last thread holding time together.
And she didn't even know.
Kai didn't waste another breath. He rose to his feet and turned from the clearing, retracing the steps that had brought him to the now-closed portal. There was no more time to hesitate. No more space to carry pride.
"I need to find someone who can open a way back," he muttered. "Or tear one open myself."
But there was only one person in his realm who had the knowledge—and power—to bend time willingly:
Elias, the Timebinder.
A hermit. A former guardian of time magic. Exiled years ago for refusing to fight in the last war. People called him mad.
Kai called him his only chance.
He sprinted across the ridge, leaping fallen trees, crossing shallow rivers by moonlight. Hours blurred. The path narrowed. And just before dawn, he reached the valley's edge—where the world seemed to fold unnaturally, the sky flickering in strange hues.
The trees whispered backwards.
The ground pulsed like a heartbeat.
He was close.
There, between two leaning stone arches, a cottage bent sideways against reality stood half-hidden in fog. Vines twisted in slow motion up the beams, defying gravity. The air shimmered like water.
He stepped closer, heart pounding.
"I know you're in there," Kai called. "Elias."
The door creaked open without touch.
Inside, candles floated in midair. Scrolls hovered and unrolled themselves. Runes flickered across the ceiling like stars.
And in the center of it all, a gaunt figure in layered robes with silver threading turned toward him.
"Kai," Elias said calmly, his voice cracked with age and too much knowing. "So. You finally want to cross time for something other than vengeance."
Kai stiffened. "I need to get to Anna's timeline. She's in danger—more than she knows. I saw it. I felt it."
Elias stepped forward slowly, looking into Kai's eyes. "You seek her… but for what? Redemption? Love?"
"Both," Kai said, jaw clenched. "But more than that—she's not just in danger. The world is. She's going to face it alone unless I find her."
Elias studied him in silence. Then he nodded once.
"Then you'll need a shard of her light. A thread of her time, still tethered to yours."
Kai frowned. "What does that mean?"
Elias extended a long finger—pointing to the pendant around Kai's neck. The one Anna had once touched. The one that had glowed when she nearly died.
"That," Elias said, "is your way back."
"But be warned…" His voice lowered. "Once you enter her time, you won't return the same. You might not return at all."
Kai's hand gripped the pendant tightly, the heat of Anna's lingering magic still pulsing there.
"I don't care."
Elias smiled thinly. "Good. Then let us break time."
Kai stepped into the cottage, the pendant still hot against his chest, pulsing like a heartbeat out of rhythm.
Elias stood at the center of the rune-marked floor, arms raised. "You're sure you want this?"
"I need to see her," Kai said, breath ragged. "Where she is. What's coming. I need to understand."
Elias didn't blink. He nodded once, then turned and began to chant. His fingers moved with practiced grace, drawing ancient symbols in the air that shimmered and bled into each other like liquid light.
The pendant around Kai's neck began to glow brighter, responding not just to Elias's magic—but to the thread of Anna's spirit still tangled in its core.
The air tore open.
A portal—unsteady, chaotic—ripped through the room. But this wasn't like Anna's clean passage of light.
This one trembled.
Showed not a path, but a window.
And what Kai saw on the other side made his breath catch in his throat.
There was Anna.
But not the Anna he had known in firelight and battle. She stood in ceremonial robes—white and gold, her hair braided in a crown of thorns and silk, her eyes hollow as winter skies.
Beside her stood the enemy Chief, cloaked in war-blooded red, a cruel smile carved into his face like it was born there. His hand rested possessively at the small of her back.
Before them, a crowd bowed in fearful silence as the Chief raised a blade—not in violence, but in union.
A binding.
A ceremony.
A claim.
Kai staggered back from the vision, heart thundering.
"No," he breathed. "No, she would never…"
But then her eyes flicked up for a split second—as if she sensed him across time.
And in that brief, silent moment, Kai saw it.
She wasn't there willingly.
She was buying time.
Sacrificing herself.
Trying to stop the bloodshed by offering the only thing they wanted.
Herself.
The portal snapped closed, the room going silent.
Elias lowered his arms, his voice grave. "You didn't see her present, Kai. You saw a future. One that is already trying to anchor itself to fate."
Kai's breath shook. "How do I stop it?"
Elias's expression darkened. "By reaching her before she chooses to give herself away for a world that doesn't deserve to lose her."
Kai gritted his teeth, the vision of Anna in that cold ceremonial light burning behind his eyes like a curse.
"She's not going to be anyone's bride but her own. Not like that. Not to him."
His hand tightened around the pendant.
"Open the way. Now."
The vision had scorched itself into Kai's mind: Anna in ceremonial white, standing beside the man who would raze everything she loved.
He could still see the deadness in her eyes.
Still feel the sickness in his gut.
He stepped into the center of the runes, heart racing, jaw clenched. "Send me there. Wherever she is—now."
Elias nodded grimly. "This path won't be clean. You're jumping into a living timeline, one already bent by prophecy and choice. If you go, you'll arrive as you are—and the current will not protect you."
"I don't need protection," Kai growled. "I need her."
Elias raised his hands again. The pendant flared—blazing like a star. The air around Kai cracked with light and wind and magic ripped from the bones of time itself.
The portal tore open.
Kai didn't hesitate.
He ran straight into the roar of the storm, through the burning light—
—and vanished.
Anna – The Bride and the Plan
The silken fabric felt wrong on her skin.
Too clean. Too quiet. Too unlike the warrior she had become.
But I stood still as the handmaidens draped the golden sash across my shoulders and pinned the veil behind my braided crown. my reflection in the cracked mirror showed a stranger: calm, poised, untouched.
Beneath it?
A storm.
The Chief of the Ashbound had made his demands clear: surrender myself as a symbol of "unity," and he would spare what remained of my kingdom.
It was a lie, of course.
But I knew tyrants. And I knew how to play gods in their own games.
If I walked down that aisle, I get close enough.
Close enough to end it all—permanently.
I looked to Lira, hidden in the shadows beyond the curtain, watching with wide eyes. The child's presence was a reminder of what was at stake.
"Is the plan set?" I whispered.
Lira nodded quickly. "The blade is hidden in the ceremonial basin. Just like you said. The signal fires are ready."
I exhaled slowly.
This wasn't a wedding. It was a countdown.
A bloodless war—until the last breath.
I looked at myself again, and beneath the silk and gold, I whispered,
"Let them think they've caged me."
"They'll never see the blade coming."
And with that, I turned toward the great doors that would open to the waiting crowd. To the Chief. To the lie I had wrapped myself in.
To the final game I intended to end with steel.
A knock—sharp, deliberate—echoed through the chamber.
I straightened as the heavy doors creaked open. Two guards stepped inside, their armor gleaming like polished threats. Their faces were blank. Unfeeling.
"The Chief awaits," one of them said.
My heart beat once, heavy in my chest. Not from fear. That had burned out long ago.
This was it.
I glanced toward Lira, hiding behind the curtain near the back wall. Our eyes met, and she gave me the smallest nod before slipping into the shadows. Everything was in motion now. Every piece placed.
I turned to the mirror, staring at the girl in white and gold who looked back at me. She didn't look like a warrior. Not a rebel. Not a threat.
Perfect.
I adjusted the veil over my head, letting it fall just low enough to shadow my face. I could feel the hidden imprint beneath the golden sash—the faint shape of the spirit-forged blade waiting in the ceremonial basin. It would be within reach when I needed it most.
I inhaled slowly. Deeply. Steady.
For the children. For the ones who survived. For the world that still might rise from the ashes.
Then I stepped forward.
The guards took their place at my sides, boots echoing down the corridor as they led me through the passage toward the great hall.
With each step, the sound of the crowd grew louder. Distant drums. Muted voices. The soft rumble of a kingdom gathered to witness what they thought would be submission.
But I was not walking toward surrender.
They didn't see the blade beneath the veil.
They didn't know this wasn't a wedding.
It was a countdown.
The corridor opened ahead into the ceremonial hall—wide, towering, drenched in gold and crimson silk. Candles floated like stars near the ceiling, and hundreds of eyes turned toward the grand archway where I now stood, shadowed by guards, cloaked in silence.
Then a voice rang out—deep, commanding.
The priest.
He stood on the raised dais beside the Chief, arms stretched to the sky, robes swaying in rhythm with the solemn drums.
"Let all be still!" he called, his voice echoing through the high stone walls."Let silence mark the binding of this sacred union. Let no voice rise above the will of fate!"
The crowd quieted. Whispers fell to breath. Even the fire in the braziers seemed to hush.
"Let the bride and the groom walk forth—under the witness of heaven, earth, and all spirits that watch beyond time."
The drums slowed.
My hands tightened at my sides.
At the far end of the room, the Chief stood waiting—towering, armored in black trimmed with red silk, a cruel smile barely hidden beneath his ceremonial mask. He looked at me like I was already his.
But he didn't know.
Not yet.
I stepped forward.
Each movement deliberate. The veil shifted with the rhythm of my breath. I counted the steps between me and the altar. Counted the guards. Counted the seconds I would need to reach the blade.
Let them believe this is fate, I told myself.Let them believe they've already won.
The air was thick with expectation.
But behind the silence, behind the stillness, my soul was a flame.
I took another step down the aisle, each footfall echoing in the heavy silence. The crowd watched me with glassy reverence, not a whisper dared between them.
The Chief held out his hand, waiting for me at the altar.
My fingers curled, steady.
I was almost there.
Then—
A thundercrack.
Not from the sky—but from the air itself.
A sudden rupture split through the back of the ceremonial hall, near the great entrance—tearing open space like a wound. A shockwave rippled across the chamber, and a burst of wind sent silk and smoke flying.
Gasps erupted. People stumbled back. The guards turned sharply, weapons half-drawn.
And from the swirling portal of light and flame—
Kai emerged.
His cloak torn from the journey, eyes blazing like someone who had just stared into hell and sprinted through it. He stumbled forward at first—then caught himself. The pendant around his neck glowed violently, reacting to the magic that still lingered in the chamber.
My heart stopped.
"Kai," I whispered, lips barely moving under the veil.
The Chief turned, jaw tightening. "What is this? Who dares—"
But Kai didn't wait.
He looked straight at me.
Straight through the veil.
And shouted loud enough to break the spell of the room:
"Anna, don't do this!"
Everyone turned toward him now—priests, guards, even the Chief's own inner circle.
Kai took another step forward, fists clenched.
"This isn't salvation—it's submission! He'll kill them anyway, Anna! You think you're saving them by giving yourself up, but this ends with everything burning!"
The Chief raised a hand and barked, "Seize him!"
Several guards moved—but slowly. Hesitantly. Kai's energy crackled like lightning, still warped from tearing through time.
I stood frozen in place, heart slamming against my ribs. His words struck harder than the drums ever could. I'd known the risks. I'd calculated the sacrifice.
But his voice… his presence…
It cracked something inside me.
"Kai," I said again, louder now. The veil shook as I exhaled. My fingers twitched toward my sash, where the blade waited, just out of sight.
And in that moment, all eyes were on me.
Bride or rebel. Pawn or threat.
The air itself waited.
Gasps echoed as Kai stood his ground, surrounded by the Chief's guards but untouched—his eyes locked on me, wild with confusion and defiance.
I kept walking. Slowly. Gracefully. My steps never faltered, even as my heart surged with adrenaline.
Then I stopped—just a few feet from the Chief, who still held his hand out, annoyed but composed, as if nothing could break the order of this spectacle.
I turned, facing the entire crowd, but my eyes never left Kai.
My voice, calm and measured, rang out like a chime over still water.
"You came all this way," I said, loud enough for all to hear, "to stop me?"
Kai took a half-step forward. "Yes. I saw the future. I saw you… bound to him. I couldn't let that happen."
I allowed a sad smile—soft, deliberate. My veil shifted with a breath of wind as I tilted my head toward him.
"And you thought I would choose this freely?"
His jaw tensed. "I thought maybe… maybe you'd given up."
I let the crowd murmur again. Let the tension crackle. Then I spoke, and the weight behind my voice silenced everything.
"I haven't given up, Kai. I've grown smarter."
I took one step closer to the altar, placing myself directly between the Chief and the gathered crowd.
My next words were sharp. Intentional.
"What better way to end a war… than to walk straight into the enemy's heart and make him believe he's already won?"
The priest faltered, exchanging a glance with the Chief.
Kai's eyes widened. Slowly, realization dawned.
He looked at the veil. The sash. My hands.
"Wait…" he whispered. "You planned this."
I nodded once.
"They brought me into their home. Their hall. Their trust. And they placed their blade within my reach."
The Chief turned toward me fully now, suspicion breaking through his polished façade.
"You tricked me," he said, voice low, venomous.
"No," I said, raising my chin. "You underestimated me."
And with that—I reached toward the ceremonial basin.