That night, Aira didn't dream.
She remembered.
And what she remembered stole the air from her lungs.
The scent of burnt roses. The heavy touch of silk robes soaked in blood. Fire crackling beneath a marble balcony. A scream that didn't sound like her voice—but was.
A thousand lifetimes surged through her as her body lay trembling in the moss-wrapped bed of the forest hut.
She remembered Kael first.
His hands around her waist, pulling her from a river of souls. His kiss in the ruins of a city made of mirrors. The way he whispered her name—not like a prayer, but like a plea.
She remembered the feel of his skin against hers, slick with sweat and stardust, bodies tangled under a violet moon. There was love. Fierce and possessive. Enough to blind her to what came after.
Then came Sareth.
His voice echoing through a battlefield of broken gods. His teeth grazing her collarbone. Her back arching beneath golden sheets, both of them drunk on power and passion. The feel of his hands—cold, firm, knowing exactly where she broke and how to rebuild her.
In that timeline, she wasn't afraid. She was alive. Reckless. Hungry. Divine.
And then came the war.
Kael stood in one timeline with his blade.
Sareth in another with his fire.
And she—she was the reason both worlds burned.
Aira gasped awake, her body damp with sweat, hair clinging to her temples. Her heart pounded so loud, it nearly drowned the silence of the woods outside.
Someone was watching.
She sat up quickly—and found Kael beside her.
He didn't speak. Just offered her a bowl of cool water. The gesture was soft. Familiar.
"I saw it again," she whispered.
He said nothing, but his shoulders tensed. He knew what it meant.
"I saw both of you," she continued. "What we were. What we did. What we destroyed."
He finally looked at her, his jaw tight. "And do you hate me for it?"
"I don't know what to feel," she said, voice cracking. "You both lied. You both loved me. And in different ways… you both killed me."
Kael lowered his gaze. "I tried to save you."
"You also tried to shape me into someone I wasn't," she snapped. "You erased parts of me. Parts I'm only now remembering."
His hand reached out, hesitant. She didn't flinch. Their fingers touched, and for the first time in days, there was no echo. No memory. Just warmth.
Aira blinked.
"Why don't I see anything?" she whispered.
Kael smiled faintly. "Because right now, you're not reaching for the past. You're choosing the present."
His lips brushed the back of her hand.
Slow. Reverent.
Aira's heart ached with confusion.
"I want to believe you," she said.
"I'll give you every reason to."
But before she could answer, she felt it again—that sense of being watched.
She turned her head—and saw him.
Sareth.
Half-hidden in the shadows beyond the doorway. Tall. Still. Like the ghost of a dream too painful to relive.
Kael followed her gaze, tensing.
"I let him come," Aira said softly before Kael could speak. "I need to see both of you. I need you both to see me. The real me."
Kael rose slowly, his eyes never leaving Sareth.
"If he steps out of line—"
"He won't," she said. "Not tonight."
Kael glanced at her, pain flickering across his features, then left the hut silently.
Sareth stepped into the room, his presence filling the space like smoke.
"Rough night?" he asked, voice low.
"You were in my memories," she said.
He raised an eyebrow. "I hope I behaved."
"You set a kingdom on fire for me."
He grinned. "That sounds like me."
"Then you died trying to save me from it."
The grin faded. "That sounds like me too."
Aira stood, stepping closer. "You keep saying Kael stole me. But I remember the things you did too. You made me a queen of ruin."
"You loved that ruin," he whispered. "You weren't a caged bird in my world. You were a storm."
"And what if I don't want to be a storm anymore?" she asked, voice trembling.
He stepped closer. "Then I'll become your shelter instead."
Aira's breath hitched.
Their foreheads nearly touched. The air between them buzzed.
"You can't both love me like this," she said, eyes glossy. "Not when I'm about to choose who I live with… and who I might die for."
Sareth's voice dropped to a whisper. "Then don't choose yet. Let the ritual choose for you."
Aira stepped back, breath ragged. "If it fails, all three of us are lost."
"I'd rather be lost with you," he said, "than win without you."
Tears pricked at her eyes. "You say the right things. But how do I know it's real?"
"Let me show you," he said, reaching for her hand.
This time, she didn't pull away.
And when their fingers met—the memory returned in a rush.
Their bodies entwined under starlight. Her voice a breathless moan. His lips trailing fire down her spine. The promise of forever inked into her skin like a vow only they could read.
When she pulled back, her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes dark with longing.
Sareth's expression mirrored hers.
But before she could say anything, Kael's voice called from outside the hut.
"The eclipse begins tomorrow."
Sareth turned toward the sound, his posture tensing—but Aira stepped between them.
"Enough."
Her voice was steady now.
"I'm done being a prize between two timelines. If I'm to carry this curse, I'll do it my way."
She turned to Sareth.
"I need you at the ritual."
Then to Kael.
"I need you too."
"And afterward?" Kael asked.
Her lips parted. "I don't know. But after the truth comes… I'll finally be free to choose."
Both men nodded—hesitantly. Warily.
She looked up through the open roof of the hut.
The moon had gone red again.
And time was almost up.