《The Vigil》


 Prologue

    Edgar. 62 years BA.


    Hope hung in the room, fragile and defiant, clinging to the stillness. Runes etched into the ceiling beams pulsed faintly: safety, control, confinement. Contraptions lined the walls, ready to contain any outburst of power, and anti-Chaos coalition mages in adjoining rooms stood by, waiting for what might come. Alaric was both precious and perilous ¨C a Savior, a hero, now reduced to fragments of himself but capable of immense destruction.


    Edgar leaned against the far wall, eyes fixed on Alaric. Months had passed since his return¡ªphysically recovered but mentally shattered, his mind scattered across the endless expanse of Chaos. His hair, once dark, had turned grey. His features remained as they were the day he left, though an unsettling timelessness haunted his eyes.


    A screen played cartoons¡ªbright colors, laughter, smiles. It was a part of the slow rehabilitation process, an effort to provide something pure and joyful, to spark anything within him. Alaric¡¯s gaze flickered now and then toward the screen, but his expression stayed blank, his attention always slipping away to a place far beyond the room.


    David sat beside his father, leaning forward, hands clasped, knuckles white. The man before him was a ghost of the father from the stories¡ªthe Savior who had ventured into Chaos, who had given everything. David had waited his whole life for this moment, sitting beside the husk that was left, murmuring quiet words, praying for a flicker of recognition. But Alaric¡¯s gaze moved past him, unfocused, adrift in the broken pieces of his mind.


    ¡°Martha?¡± Alaric suddenly whispered, the name barely a breath.


    A sharp sting jolted through Edgar''s chest. Alaric had said her name before, but never with this clarity, this urgency. Edgar had deflected the question each time, almost relieved when Alaric¡¯s mind slipped back into the fog. This time, something was different. Alaric was more present, more aware, and Edgar knew there would be no avoiding the truth this time.


    Alaric¡¯s head turned slowly, his eyes locking on Edgar¡¯s. For the first time in months, there was something¡ªrecognition, perhaps?¡ªthat sparked behind those eyes.


    "Martha," he repeated, louder now, his gaze sharpening, cutting through the fog that had held him. "Where is she?"


    Edgar knelt beside him, his hand hovering before resting on Alaric¡¯s arm. This moment had been coming for a long time, yet the words still stuck in Edgar¡¯s throat. He muted the cartoons, silence swallowing the room.


    ¡°She¡¯s not here, Alaric,¡± Edgar said, the weight of the words heavy on his tongue. ¡°Martha¡­ is gone.¡±


    For a heartbeat, nothing changed. Then, a shift¡ªAlaric¡¯s brow furrowed, lips pressing into a thin line, eyes clouding over as though something vital had slipped out of reach. Edgar could feel it¡ªthe fragile tether that had held Alaric here¡ªthe memories they had painstakingly preserved and returned to him ¡ªwas fraying, slipping through his grasp.


    "No," Edgar whispered, tightening his grip on Alaric¡¯s arm. He looked to David, desperation plain in his eyes. ¡°David... he¡¯s her son too. Alaric, look¡ªhe¡¯s Martha¡¯s son.¡±


    But Alaric¡¯s gaze drifted, unfocused, slipping from the room, from Edgar, from David. A low, ominous hum began to rise, and Edgar felt it deep in his bones¡ªa spell forming, simple but final. He scrambled for the failsafes they had set but knew it was futile. They were designed to block instinctual magic, not a deliberate act of self-annihilation. Nothing could stop that. Alaric had made his choice.


    Light began to gather around him, shimmering like fireflies in the dark. David lunged forward, hands reaching for his father, his voice cracking into a raw, guttural cry. ¡°No! Father, please¡­¡±


    But Alaric was already fading, his form dissolving into shimmering particles that drifted upward, vanishing like mist. For a fleeting second, Alaric¡¯s face softened, a final release¡ªthen, nothing. It happened just as it always happened before: no explosion, no grand display of power. Just quiet, unraveling light, and then¡ªnothing.


    David collapsed to his knees, grasping at where his father had been. He turned to Edgar, pain and anger tearing through him.¡°Why? Why did you survive,¡± his voice broke, ¡°but he didn¡¯t? Why didn¡¯t you save him?¡±


    David¡¯s words cut deep, a familiar pain in Edgar¡¯s chest. He had no real answer. He knew why Alaric chose it. He knew why they all did.


    And now, watching Alaric fade, Edgar felt that same lure of non-existence that haunted him, always there, just beneath the surface, for what felt like an eternity. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was kinder to let them go.


    But he couldn¡¯t. The next Savior would come; the cycle would never end. Chaos would never stop.


    And neither would Edgar.


    He would save them, no matter what it would take. For Alaric. For all who came before them. For himself. Because his survival wasn¡¯t just a fluke, he refused to believe it was.


    Edgar pulled David closer, the young man trembling in his arms, quietly sobbing. ¡°He¡¯s at peace now,¡± Edgar whispered. It was the only truth he had to offer.


    They stayed there, unmoving, while the last glimmers of Alaric¡¯s light faded, leaving the room steeped in shadows, illuminated only by the flickering cartoons.


    Sasha. 30 years BA.


    For a long time, I used ''There was a time when Chaos took my bicycle'' as a conversation starter. I knew it was edgy¡ªmaybe even a little too bold¡ªbut I couldn''t resist. And well, it worked.


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    This is what happened. Alex and I were 14. It was the summer after our 7th grade. Our usual group¡ªmy older brother Ilya and his best friend, Stanis, and Alex and me¡ªwere lounging by the river when the sirens blared, slicing through the calm. Our phones buzzed, flashing the emergency alert.


    A Chaos eruption right outside Rovalia. The first one nearby since we were little.


    I knew what that meant. We all did. Chaos himself, breaking in. Terribly dangerous, lethal even. We were supposed to go home, to follow Anti-Chaos Coalition instructions, but it was so close. Completely forbidden... and so close.


    "Come on," I said, jumping onto my bike. "It''s not far. We''ll get around, take a quick look, and leave right away. No one will notice."


    I knew it was a bad idea. Truly, I did. But it was magic. Right there, real magic¡ªsomething different from the dull, everyday spells for mundane stuff like cooking. And we always heard how well the ACC handled eruptions these days, right?


    Ilya hesitated, then nodded and pedalled off. Alex and Stanis followed, and we rode fast, the wind rushing past as we left the town.


    At first, everything seemed normal¡ªthe fields were calm and golden, the sky blue with rare clouds, and the smell of something sweet in the air¡ªjust your typical warm summer day.


    But slowly, the air itself seemed to change. It grew thicker and heavier, vibrating subtly like it had a pulse. The wind felt different, carrying an eerie sense of wrongness. The grass began to sway independently of the wind. A deep, unsettling tension seemed to warp the world, creeping in slowly, pressing on us like a weight we couldn¡¯t shake. We¡¯d learned about Chaos eruptions in school, sure, but this felt different.


    "This feels weird," Alex called, mirroring my thoughts.


    I nodded. My stomach knotted, but it was my idea, right? So I had to be brave. And they seemed more excited than scared anyway. Stanis grinned at me, and I forced myself to smile back, even as my heart pounded. I couldn''t let him see me scared. Not him, not ever.


    The closer we got, the more wrong everything felt. The sky above the eruption swirled with dark clouds, streaked with purples and blacks like the sky itself was being pulled into a swirling void.


    We stopped at the top of a hill, looking at the scene below. Soldiers from the Anti-Chaos Coalition were setting up, their vehicles spread across the site. Magic flashed as they deployed barriers, bright against the encroaching darkness.


    "Whoa," Alex said, her eyes wide.


    But ACC mages seemed so small and... human, compared to the slowly formed eruption. My mind tried to find words for it, to compare it maybe to a hole forming in the fabric of the world or something, but it wasn''t it. It was something other. Reality itself was giving up, letting something else in¡ªsomething evil. Someone evil. Chaos.


    "We should leave," Ilya said, his voice tense. He looked at me, then at the swirling mess below. "Sash, we have to go."


    He was right. I tried to move, but my legs felt glued to the ground, and my eyes locked onto the eruption. It wasn''t just fear¡ª something held me in place. I wanted to step back, to turn away, but I couldn''t. My body refused to move as if the wrongness in the air had seeped into me, filling me, rooting me where I stood.


    "Sasha, let''s go!" Ilya¡¯s voice snapped, his hand gripping my arm, trying to pull me.


    "I can''t," I whispered, barely audible. "I can''t move."


    Stanis and Alex rushed in, their faces pale, their eyes wide. They tugged at me, too, but it didn''t work. Panic rose in my chest ¨C what is happening? Did I put us in danger?


    "Holy Saviors! Why are you here?!" a voice yelled behind us. One of the ACC''s soldiers found us.


    He grabbed us and shoved us toward a Coalition vehicle at the base of the hill. "Get in. Now."


    When he realized I couldn''t move, he seemed to know exactly what was happening. He sighed, placed a hand on my shoulder, and a surge of magic rippled through me. And just like that, the pressure was relieved. I stumbled forward, and the guys caught me before I hit the ground.


    We scrambled into the vehicle, the soldier slamming the door behind us. He radioed in, "Found some stupid kids. Evacuating them," starting the engine.


    With each meter between us and the eruption site, it felt like the grip Chaos had on me was loosening. I didn''t even notice how suffocating it felt there. Thank the Saviors that the soldier found us. But also, now we were in trouble, weren''t we? Of course, the ACC would have the whole perimeter locked down. How could I have been so stupid?


    At the edge of the town, the soldier stopped the car and glared at us in the rearview mirror. He took off the helmet, and unexpectedly, I recognized him. Daniel, a guy from town a few years older. He¡¯d joined ACC training last year, and his parents wouldn¡¯t shut up about it. But he was alright. We¡¯d hung out a few times.


    But now, he was furious:


    "Are you insane? What were you thinking? You could¡¯ve died!"


    "We just wanted to see," Stanis muttered, glancing at me. I looked away, my face burning with shame. It was my idea. I got us caught. Worse, I could¡¯ve gotten us killed.


    Daniel sighed, shaking his head. "Idiots. Do you even know what Chaos does to people?" He paused, his eyes meeting mine. "You froze, didn''t you?".


    I swallowed and nodded. "Yeah."


    He let out a long breath, some of the anger fading. "You''re gifted in magic. That''s why. Chaos messes with people like us more. You shouldn¡¯t be near here without training."


    The others snickered¡ªAlex nudged me. "Hear that, Sasha? You''re special."


    "Yeah, real special," I mumbled.


    Daniel glanced back, his expression softening. "Seriously though, you need training. You¡¯re too vulnerable like this."


    I shrugged, looking out the window. As if I didn''t know I needed training. "That costs money."


    Daniel glanced back, his expression softening. "You know, the Coalition has grants. You could get combat training, the same I got".


    Combat training, me? Sure, it made so much sense.


    "Sasha here can''t even punch to save her life," Ilya laughed. "She can''t even play fighting games; she''s hopeless."


    I rolled my eyes, forcing a smile. Right, this again. "I''ll stick to farming simulators, thanks."


    Daniel chuckled but didn''t force the issue, and I was grateful for it.


    The conversation shifted. The boys asked Daniel about ACC training, and he tried to sound tough, but there was pride in his eyes. When they asked if he¡¯d met Edgar, he grinned.


    "Not yet. But maybe. They send the best recruits to Serenia. Edgar himself meets them."


    "Think you''ll get an autograph?" Alex teased.


    "Or a blessing?" Ilya added.


    Daniel laughed. "Maybe both."


    Slowly, the tension had eased. I couldn¡¯t join the banter, though. I stared out the window, replaying what happened over and over. I knew better. We learned about this in school, how people can get affected. But I was too excited, too eager to see real magic to consider danger. Instead, I almost got us killed. It was all my fault.


    Daniel stopped the car, glancing back at us, trying to be stern again. "Okay, first and last warning. I won''t report you, but don''t ever do anything so stupid again."


    Yeah, he was alright after all.


    "Sure," Stanis said, giving him a mock salute. "Thanks, man."


    I took a moment, too. "Thanks, Daniel¡­ for saving us. I¡¯m sorry, I-"


    He cut me off. "Just be careful, alright?"


    I nodded, eyes prickling. How could I be so stupid?


    We climbed out, watching as Daniel drove away. Then I turned to the others, and my heart sank.


    "The bikes."


    Ilya groaned. "We left them on the hill. They¡¯re probably swallowed by Chaos now."


    Stanis swore. Alex sighed. "Great. How do we explain that?"


    Before we could think of anything, a voice cut through the fading light. "Sasha! Ilya!"


    I turned, my stomach dropping. Mom.


    She stormed toward us, her face a mix of worry and fury. She must¡¯ve seen the ACC vehicle.


    We were so fucked.


    I glanced at Ilya, and he gave me a resigned look. Maybe facing the eruption would¡¯ve been easier than facing Mom.

 Chapter 1

    Sasha''s diary. Written in year 35 After Alaric''s Return.


    ---- First entry ----


    Well, hi me. Or I.


    Fuck, how do I even do it? It''s ridiculous. What''s the point anyway? It won''t help me. Nothing will help me.


    Edgar says it''s good, though. That it helped him. Well, whatever. So hello, me. Hello, Edgar, if you¡¯re reading. See? I am doing it.


    Should I start at the beginning?


    I know you forgot everything, but you were probably told the most important stuff already, weren¡¯t you? Stars, it feels stupid to address myself as "you." But saying "I" is even more stupid, so "you" it is, I guess.


    So, well, thank you for not dying. Please don¡¯t, okay? If they gave you these journals and the recording I¡¯m supposed to make¡ªfuck, that¡¯s another impossible task Edgar gave me, but well, not more impossible than, you know...¡ªif you got it, then you aren¡¯t going to die, right? I asked for that. To give it to you when it¡¯s clear you will have a future. Please, do live, for both of us.


    So you have a future, while the only thing I have is the past. And it''s yours too, even if you find it hard to believe. Edgar said he still could not. That is scary. But still, I will try. For you. For me. Because at the end of the day, I refuse to believe we aren''t the same person. If you survived, if you live, it means I did too.


    So, start at the beginning. I struggle to remember childhood now, and I don''t want to think about it¡ªnot of Rovalia, either. So, let me tell you about the university.


    I remember one day especially well, but probably, there were many days like this, collapsed together in my memory.


    There¡¯s nothing quite like starting the day with a fresh cup of coffee in your hands. Do you still like coffee? Please tell me that you at least like coffee.


    Alex¡ªyou should remember a little bit about her from these memories we will save¡ªglanced at me from the microwave door, using the reflection to fix her hair. ¡°You do realize you¡¯re basically made of coffee at this point, right?¡±


    I shrugged, cradling the mug in my hands. ¡°Better coffee than stress.¡± I thought I was constantly stressed back then. Now, it feels like my life was so simple and happy. It was, wasn¡¯t it? I almost want to laugh at how small my worries were.


    ¡°If that¡¯s your defense,¡± she said with a smirk, ¡°I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re not bathing in it.¡±


    As if I could afford to bathe in coffee, I thought. Wouldn¡¯t that be something, though?


    But no, no bathing in coffee for me. Not back then, when I just barely covered my half of the energy bill, and I had my eyes on this online course on simple healing spells for so long. Just one more scholarship, and maybe I could afford this course at least. Or maybe not. Studying medicine at a public university was one thing, but real magic? That was a whole different level of impossible. Not for a poor girl from Rovalia.


    I¡¯d always known I had talent. It¡¯s like knowing you have a knack for something¡ªit just feels natural. But having a knack for magic doesn¡¯t get you into Lovenia Magic Arts Academy¡ªor any magic academy, for that matter¡ªnot when rich kids half my age have already spent years with private tutors, shaping spells like it¡¯s their birthright. Well, actually, it sort of was.


    I¡¯d probably missed my chance. But then, maybe if I just worked a little harder, pushed myself a bit more¡­


    You know, I still feel a pang of something when I think about it. Now, learning from Edgar, seeing that I wasn''t exaggerating, that I am actually good¡ªit feels like something that was taken from me. Another thing that was taken from me. You probably can¡¯t understand it, can you? If you are anything like Edgar says you¡¯ll be¡ªthough I think he says it just to make me feel better¡ªmagic comes naturally to you now. Well, that wasn¡¯t the case before¡­ everything.


    But back then, it was one of the main things in my life. How much I wanted to learn magic, and how I couldn¡¯t.


    ¡°Sasha, I can hear your brain working,¡± Alex said, pulling on her jacket. ¡°You coming to class or what?¡±


    I blinked, shaking off the thought. ¡°Yeah, yeah, I¡¯m coming.¡±


    The walk across campus was brisk, the cold biting through my coat despite the deceptive sunlight overhead. Gorenza¡ªthe city where I went to study¡ªwas bigger than Rovalia, but the chill in the air felt just as sharp, slipping under scarves and settling in your bones.


    It was some time ago, right? How long were you there? Back then, arc-tech was already a thing, but still somewhat new. Arc-tech buses rumbled past, their runework glowing faintly as they pulled away from stops. Students crowded the sidewalks, a sea of backpacks and conversation, while the city hummed around us. Gorenza was a strange mix¡ªold brick buildings lined with arc-tech panels, enchanted streetlights glowing steadily above, and sleek storefronts with displays that shimmered like they were alive. It was all so normal here. Back home, we were only just getting our own arc-tech bus line. Progress. Slowly but surely.


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    We reached the university¡¯s main building, and stepping inside felt like walking into a warm hug. The scent of books and wood drifted through the air, and I glanced at the bulletin board, even though I¡¯d checked it online earlier. But still... No new scholarship offers, no magical programs suddenly within my grasp. Not that I¡¯d been expecting it. But¡­ I checked. I always checked.


    ¡°Still hoping for a miracle?¡± Alex nudged me, her smile knowing.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, grinning back. ¡°You think they¡¯ll ever put up a flyer that just says, ¡®Hey Sasha Irving, want a free pass to Lovenia Magic Arts Academy?¡¯¡±


    ¡°If that happens, buy me a lottery ticket,¡± she said.


    Now, it feels like a cruel joke, you know? Well, everything feels like a cruel something, but this is specifically painful. Because in some twisted sense, this did happen, right? You, now, can have a free pass to anything at all, can''t you? But I can¡¯t imagine if you even want anything like it. Or want anything at all. I cannot imagine you at all. But if by some miracle you would care about what I felt, know that it was my dream back then. Maybe you¡¯ll do it for both of us?


    Back in the dorm that evening, Alex was already there, watching something on her laptop. Just before I took off my coat, my phone buzzed. I smiled when I saw Ilya¡¯s name¡ªhe sent another picture of Kostya, wrapped in a blanket, looking more like a tiny bundle than a baby. I sent back a quick He¡¯s so cute! and stared at the picture for a moment longer.


    It¡¯s so absurd, you know? By all chances, Kostya is older than you now.


    Well, not counting the eternity of suffering.


    So Ilya, my big brother, was already a dad at 21, working hard, following the usual path in Rovalia. And here I was, the first from our family to make it to university. I could feel the weight of their hopes on me, even though they never said a word. They didn¡¯t push me, but I pushed myself¡ªstraight As because there was no room for failure. If I slipped, I¡¯d lose my scholarships, and then what? It felt like such a big thing back then. And now I cannot fathom what it was that I was so afraid of. Nothing really bad could¡¯ve happened in my normal life, nothing like, well¡ª


    Still, back then, looking at the picture, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a swell of pride. Life wasn¡¯t perfect, but it was good. At least I had some common sense to feel thankful. Thanks, Saviors, I thought, a small sense of peace settling over me. I used to thank them, as everyone did, you know? Now it feels so weird.


    We even had an altar¡ªwell, everyone did. At ours, we had sigils of Alaric, Edgar, and Alexander neatly in place, surrounded by the cacti. These little guys were weird, blooming like that for months already, even though they weren¡¯t supposed to. When we moved in here, I was sure previous tenants just forgot to throw away these plants; they looked so dead. And yet, now, they were thriving. I wondered, as I often did, if my magic was sneaking out in these tiny, useless ways¡ªblooming cacti, flickering lights, a bit louder buzzing of arc-tech.


    It probably sounds so stupid and pitiful to you now, right? You can, what, level cities with a thought?


    Anyway, I talked to the cacti: ¡°Is it me, or did you just need a bit of love?¡±


    As always, they didn''t answer. Rude plants.


    I put it back at the altar. I wasn¡¯t particularly devoted, but I did give quick thanks to the Saviors like I did every evening. And then, because it was part of the routine, I complained to them.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t one of you have helped me get into some magic training, please?¡± I muttered.


    They didn¡¯t answer either. I thought maybe I should start talking to real people instead. And clear my head. I knew just the thing. Good that I hadn¡¯t taken my coat off.


    ¡°Coffee run!¡± I called out to Alex.


    She glanced up. ¡°Again?¡±


    ¡°Always.¡± I winked. ¡°Wanna join?¡±


    Alex sighed, shaking her head. ¡°Back into that cold? I¡¯m not crazy like some,¡± she smiled. ¡°You¡¯re going to turn into a coffee bean one day, you know that?¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯ll be a very happy coffee bean,¡± I said, grinning as I closed the door behind me.


    The campus was quieter at night, but not by much. Groups of students lingered, chatting in clusters, while others hurried back to their dorms or out to meet friends. The arc-tech streetlights hummed softly, casting a warm glow over the pathways. A chill hung in the air, the kind that made your breath visible in faint clouds. I didn¡¯t mind it¡ªit would make the coffee taste even better on the way back. As I walked, I caught snippets of conversation¡ªtalk of classes, exams, relationships. Someone mentioned the ACC, something about more eruptions this year. But back then I just ignored it, stupidly. I thought it didn''t matter to me. Ha. Ha. Ha.


    The caf¨¦ door chimed softly as I stepped inside. It was warm and smelled heavenly. Probably, this is how that coffee bath would''ve smelled. And felt. I smiled at the barista¡ªa familiar face by now. ¡°The large latte, please,¡± I said, and he nodded, tapping my order into the register. As I reached for my wallet, my eyes landed on the board above the counter. A new price hastily scribbled in marker. A price hike. Just a little, but enough to make my stomach drop. I really wanted this latte, and I walked all the way down here to get it, but¡­


    ¡°Actually, just a small black coffee today, please,¡± I said, trying to keep my voice light. The barista didn¡¯t seem to mind. He probably saw this all the time. It was a campus caf¨¦ in a public university. I wasn¡¯t the only student struggling to make ends meet, was I? Probably not.


    I took a sip, the bitterness biting harder than I expected. It wasn¡¯t what I¡¯d wanted, but it would have to do. It was still coffee, after all. Yet, when I stepped back into the cold, the warmth from the cup didn''t seem to fend off the biting wind.


    I don''t know why I¡¯m telling you all this. These things are so normal, so not important, but maybe that¡¯s the point. It feels¡­ right to just remember, to try to get back into the moment, because they happened. Even when I¡¯m gone, they did happen. It doesn¡¯t feel like much, but it¡¯s all that I have. And it¡¯s all that I can give you.

 Chapter 2

    Sasha.


    ---Second entry---


    So I keep doing it, I guess. I did feel better last week after this session, after all, so I suppose the old man¡ªyou, Edgar, if you¡¯re reading¡ªknows what he¡¯s saying. Again. As always.


    So¡­ let me tell you about my first and only date. Do you even know what dates are? Did they have that talk with you? Stars, I cannot imagine what all this must be like for you. And I¡¯m not making it any easier, am I?


    So. I had this¡­ crush, I guess, for years. On Stanis, my brother¡¯s best friend. He¡¯s four years older now, and for you, he¡¯ll be definitely too old. Fuck, it¡¯s so weird to think I¡¯ll be just frozen in time, for, like, two decades. Reminds me of that guy in stasis¡ªactually, that¡¯s what the lecture was about, wasn¡¯t it? Or was that another day? I don¡¯t really remember.


    Doesn¡¯t matter. So, here¡¯s what happened.


    My phone lay on the table, and I''d been checking it more often than usual, waiting for a reply from Stanis. I sent him ¡°wanna meet for coffee?¡± a while ago¡ªor maybe just an hour, but it surely felt like forever to muster the courage to send it¡ªand now I felt glued to my phone. The professor was droning on about Chaos eruptions and their effects on health¡ªimportant stuff, I knew, but back then, I actually cared more about a boy. Can you imagine?


    My eyes flicked down again, and there it was. Stanis: Sure, Friday? Suddenly, everything else faded away.


    My heart skipped a beat. A smile spread across my face, a warmth and excitement that had nothing to do with, admittedly, the severe topic of the lecture. Yes, coffee with Stanis! Finally. A date. Well, kind of. Maybe. My mind jumped to what I should wear, how casual-but-not-too-casual I should look. I needed mascara. Could I afford a new one? Would Alex let me borrow it? Would he think I was overtrying? Or not trying enough?


    It¡¯s so strange how vividly I remember this inner monologue, even though it¡¯s been months. I can¡¯t really feel any of it anymore, and you won¡¯t at all, but it did happen. I really did feel like this. I did.


    Apparently, I wasn¡¯t very subtle about it because¡ª


    ¡°Miss Irving!¡± Professor Denar¡¯s voice snapped through my daydream. I jumped, almost dropping my phone.


    ¡°Uh, yes?¡± I stammered, blinking as my brain did an emergency reboot from romance mode to academia mode. My cheeks flushed as I realized everyone was staring at me. Including Alex, who gave me an amused look that said, Really, Sash?


    ¡°So?¡± Professor Denar asked, unimpressed. His eyebrows seemed to be elevated higher than should be possible.


    Oh no. What was the question? Beside me, Alex leaned over, her voice barely a whisper. ¡°Type C,¡± she hissed.


    Ah, that. I knew that. I was actually a good student; I cleared my throat, ¡°Yes, right. Type C causes cognitive deficiencies for any executive functions, up to a complete loss that can cause stasis-like symptoms. The longest recorded stasis lasted forty-two years. The person¡ªBrandon Stoff, I think?¡ªwoke up looking exactly the same, with no idea how much time had passed, and he even wrote a book about the experience.¡± My voice grew steadier as I spoke, recalling the details. I¡¯ve read his book, after all. It was heartbreaking, actually. Even more heartbreaking now, isn¡¯t it? Maybe you should read it too. Although he didn¡¯t forget everything, he just lost the time. For you, it was both, wasn¡¯t it? Or do you remember anything? I hope you don¡¯t really remember Chaos. But that¡¯s impossible, isn¡¯t it?


    Anyway, I did answer back then. Professor Denar¡¯s eyebrow seemed to lower just a fraction. He gave a curt nod. ¡°Correct. Although I would prefer if students paid attention.¡± The tension in the room eased slightly, and I let out a breath I hadn¡¯t realized I¡¯d been holding. He moved on, and I shot Alex a grateful look.


    She grinned, mouthing, You¡¯re welcome.


    I guess now I remember moments that retrospectively feel like hints at a future I never could¡¯ve even imagined. I try to focus on the normal, the mundane, but my mind keeps going back to subtle signs I ignored. Like that day¡ªor sometime around the same day, during lunch.


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    Lunch was loud and messy¡ªjust like it always was when our group grabbed a table. Thomas was in the middle of an animated rant about the recent lecture, waving his fork around like a conductor¡¯s baton.


    ¡°I¡¯m just saying,¡± Thomas started, ¡°there are way more eruptions happening now than last year. And the ACC can¡¯t even send mages to do the lectures anymore! They were supposed to send someone today, remember? But no, we¡¯re stuck with old boring Denar.¡± He paused, dramatically shaking his head. ¡°And they still haven¡¯t announced the new Savior. Thirty-five years since Alaric returned¡ªthat¡¯s way too long. Statistically, it¡¯s like the 99th percentile.¡±


    I had no idea what ¡°percentile¡± meant, but I also wasn¡¯t sure Thomas did either. I frowned, picking at my food. ¡°But if something was wrong, wouldn¡¯t the ACC say something? I mean, Edgar wouldn¡¯t hide it, right? He¡¯s¡­ Edgar. Probably the next Savior is already training or something.¡±


    It¡¯s funny, right? Thomas was completely right. I don¡¯t know if you can get the irony. But I do. And Edgar, if you¡¯re reading, you¡¯ll appreciate this part.


    Thomas shrugged, a skeptical look crossing his face. ¡°Maybe. But when was the last time anyone actually saw Edgar? Like, actually saw him? Not on some pre-recorded TV appearance? I¡¯m telling you, he could be¡ª¡±


    ¡°He could be what?¡± I interrupted, rolling my eyes. ¡°Dead? Please. For a strong mage, a hundred and thirty is nothing. The longest recorded mage lifespan was two hundred and forty-seven, and Edgar is easily ten times stronger than that guy ever was.¡±


    Well, at least I was right about that one, wasn¡¯t I?


    Thomas raised his hands in mock surrender. ¡°Alright, alright. But what if¡ªjust hear me out¡ªwhat if there¡¯s more to it? Like, what if there¡¯s some kind of secret Chaos cult, and they¡¯re sabotaging the Savior selection process? Maybe they¡¯re the reason we haven¡¯t heard anything. Maybe they¡¯re killing all suitable mages and trying to bring about the end of the world, and the ACC is just covering it up!¡± His eyes widened. Now it was getting really ridiculous.


    Sonya chimed in, ignoring Thomas¡¯s musings: ¡°Ah, Sasha, this is why you want to study magic so badly! You want to live forever, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Living forever sounds nice,¡± I smiled. I really thought so, didn¡¯t I? You probably laugh at this point, don¡¯t you? Can you even laugh, after¡­ everything? Please do. I can¡¯t imagine how hard and weird and painful it must be for you now, but please learn how to laugh again, if you¡¯ve forgotten how.


    Back then, I tried to explain what magic was to me: ¡°But actually, I don¡¯t know, you know¡­ it¡¯s just¡­ magic is¡­ everything,¡± I paused, gathering my thoughts. ¡°It¡¯s like unlocking what life is actually about. Or adding a dimension that was always supposed to be there. Does that make any sense?¡± But I saw that they didn¡¯t seem to share my sentiments much.


    Do you? What¡¯s magic to you?


    Alex grinned, bringing the topic back to Thomas¡¯s theories. ¡°Beware, Sasha. Next, we¡¯ll be hearing that all mages are secretly invited to Chaos cults.¡±


    ¡°Well, if it comes with free coffee and cool robes, count me in,¡± I retorted.


    We all laughed.


    Please don¡¯t be mad. We didn¡¯t really mean it back then, you know? When things are so far from you, and yet so scary, you do make fun of them. Sometimes I think now, maybe I deserve it because I was joking about Chaos? I knew I shouldn¡¯t. But no, that¡¯s ridiculous, Sasha, stop it. I don¡¯t deserve it. You didn¡¯t deserve it. None of us ever did.


    That night, back in our dorm, I was practically bouncing with excitement. Because of the date, remember? It was important.


    Alex was sitting cross-legged on her bed, listening with a patient smile as I rambled about Stanis, the coffee date, and what I could possibly wear.


    ¡°You know,¡± Alex said, her eyes twinkling, ¡°I think this will be great. Stanis is a good guy. And you deserve something nice, Sash.¡±


    I felt a warmth spread through me, and I smiled. ¡°You think so?¡±


    Alex nodded. ¡°Absolutely. And don¡¯t worry about mascara, you can use mine. We¡¯ll make those grey eyes pop.¡±


    Spoiler alert (do you even know what that means? Oh my). The date never happened.


    Later that day, as I got ready for bed, I found myself standing in front of the small altar we had set up in the corner of the room. Alaric, Edgar, and Alexander sigils were there, surrounded by the ever-blooming cacti. I touched the edge of Edgar¡¯s sigil, feeling the cool metal beneath my fingers.


    ¡°Thanks, Saviors,¡± I whispered, a smile on my face. I was happy, excited, and hopeful. It was probably the last time I actually was happy, I realize now. This is why I want you to know it, even if I won¡¯t save the memory of my feelings for Stanis for you. Just know that I was truly happy, once.


    But then, almost without thinking, I added, looking at Edgar¡¯s portrait, ¡°You¡¯re alive, aren¡¯t you?¡± My eyes lingered on the image, a pang of worry gnawing at me. I shook my head, brushing the thought away. Stupid Thomas and his ideas. Of course, Edgar was alive. With him out there, nothing bad could happen. Nothing at all.


    Some part of me still believes it, you know? The biggest part. At least, nothing bad will happen to the world with him around. And I¡­ I, ultimately, don¡¯t matter. Not like he does.

 Chapter 3

    Sasha.


    --- Third entry ---


    So I said that the date never happened, right? So dramatically, even. I realize I¡¯m thinking about you, how you would read it, and how you¡¯ll experience it as I plan; in a way, I want you to feel things. How I would¡¯ve if I had read it.


    But I have no idea what you would feel, do I? You are me, but also¡­ not. And it¡¯s fine. You don¡¯t have to, you know? Just please, live. That¡¯s all I really want. Please, please, live.


    We went today over the failsafes Edgar and the others constructed to keep me¡ªyou¡ªfrom self-annihilating right away. The spellwork is still a bit too complex for me, but I should be able to do it in a couple of months. But he really wants me to understand the matrix and conduits; I¡¯m not fully convinced, but he keeps insisting I should learn as much as possible in the short time left. As if I¡¯ll need any of this there. Did you use any of it? Do you remember learning? Did I do enough? Did it help you, at least a bit?


    Anyway, failsafes. I dread to think of why and how they will be used. I cannot imagine it¡ªinstinctive self-annihilation. I want to live so much. Why won¡¯t you? What will Chaos do to you?


    I¡¯ll know soon enough, won¡¯t I?


    So, back to the date that never happened.


    Monday, the week when we agreed to meet on Friday¡ªI remember this week very well because this was the beginning of my end¡ªwas pretty ordinary at first. We were at lunch in the cafeteria, and everything was usual: students laughing, plates clattering, the hum of chatter creating a comforting buzz around me. I had just taken a sip of my second coffee of the day¡ªokay, maybe fourth, but who¡¯s counting?¡ªwhen I overheard it. A research study. And they were paying well. I was always broke, remember? Meaning I needed money. Desperately.


    ¡°Yeah, booths are all over campus,¡± someone at the next table said, waving a glossy flyer. ¡°They¡¯re offering decent cash for a quick test. No needles.¡±


    It did matter because I didn¡¯t like needles back then. Pain was¡­ different then, wasn¡¯t it? I knew nothing about real pain; I still don¡¯t, not really. Not yet. But you do, don¡¯t you?


    The study wasn¡¯t unusual; the campus was always buzzing with some kind of research. But this felt different¡ªbigger. The flyers were too well-designed, with a sheen that suggested serious money behind them. Nothing like the usual psychology department surveys or whatnot.


    ¡°Hey, wanna go see what it¡¯s about?¡± I nudged Alex, who was balancing her tray as she sat down.


    ¡°You and your extra gigs,¡± she sighed, rolling her eyes. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s do it. After class.¡±


    I almost forgot about it by the time the lecture started. Cell biology was harder to focus on than usual, maybe because I hadn¡¯t had enough coffee. Still, after class, we made our way to one of the booths just outside the faculty building.


    I often think now, what would¡¯ve happened if I didn¡¯t volunteer? Would they still have found me? Edgar says yes, that the next stage would¡¯ve been to scan everyone anyway. But it would¡¯ve been much later, and possibly with worse consequences. More eruptions, a much higher risk of full-scale invasion, less time to train, less chance that you survive. So, I guess it was for the better. Although I want nothing more than to pretend that somehow I could¡¯ve been left unfound.


    That somebody else someplace else would¡¯ve been found. Not me. Please, just not me.


    Am I a bad person to wish this fate on someone else? Do you despise me for it?


    Well, back to the study. Two researchers in white coats stood by a folding table. A line of students had already formed. They handed me a consent form¡ªsomething about energy mapping, soul frequencies, and population statistics. I skimmed through the text, catching a few key terms, but it looked standard. They were probably just gathering data to see how arcane patterns varied among students, I thought. They made an effort to look like that, at least.


    I signed it, handed it back without much thought, and stepped into a small, nondescript space inside the booth. The researcher didn¡¯t even look up as I entered. He seemed tired, shadows under his eyes.


    ¡°Long day?¡± I asked, trying to make small talk as I sat across from him.


    He chuckled without humor, adjusting some wires connected to a glowing, rune-covered machine. ¡°You could say that.¡±


    When he finally glanced up at me through the scope, though, everything changed. His weariness vanished, replaced by wide eyes and stiff posture. He quickly motioned for his colleague, a woman in her forties, who leaned over and peered through the same device. Her reaction mirrored his: surprise, confusion, and¡ªrecognition. They didn¡¯t expect to find it, did they? But there I was.


    Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°Uh, everything okay?¡± I asked, trying to keep my tone light, but my pulse quickened.


    They exchanged a look¡ªone that spoke of something more than just curiosity¡ªbefore the man straightened up. ¡°Yeah, everything¡¯s fine,¡± he said, though his voice was higher, tenser. ¡°Just some unusual readings.¡±


    ¡°Nothing to worry about,¡± the woman added with a forced smile. Liar. There was everything to worry about. But not for them, of course.


    They asked for my contact details once more, even though I¡¯d already filled them out on the form. I scribbled them down again, feeling a flicker of unease but brushing it aside. It was probably just an administrative thing.


    ¡°Thank you for participating,¡± the woman said, her smile polite but not entirely comforting. ¡°We might need to follow up soon. It¡¯s just standard procedure.¡±


    I nodded, stepping out of the booth and back into the cold, but something stayed with me. Guess what? You think I was considering what it could really mean? No. I had a spark of hope, maybe? Maybe they¡¯d found something special. Maybe all my dreams of studying magic weren¡¯t as far-fetched as they seemed. Maybe¡­


    Alex raised an eyebrow when I approached. ¡°Boring, right?¡±


    ¡°Not sure,¡± I admitted, slipping my hands into my coat pockets. ¡°They said they might need me again.¡±


    Her eyebrows shot up. ¡°They didn¡¯t say anything to me.¡±


    I shrugged, trying to sound casual, but inside, that flicker of hope refused to go out. Maybe this was my shot. I wanted to study magic so desperately that I latched onto this one thing. But at least it bought me some time before realizing the truth.


    The next morning, our dorm was a blur of the usual rush¡ªAlex frantically searching for her other shoe, and me downing my third cup of coffee. As soon as we stepped outside, the sharp, cold air hit me. The kind of chill that wakes you up no matter how much sleep you get, even if you might have spent most of the night overanalyzing the day before.


    And then, this feeling came. Like someone was watching me. My skin prickled, and I glanced over my shoulder. Nothing. Of course, nothing. I shook my head, willing myself to calm down. You¡¯re not important enough to be followed, Sasha, I told myself. How I wish that had been true.


    ¡°Everything good?¡± Alex asked, catching my glance.


    ¡°Yeah, just... thought I saw something.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been watching those crime shows again, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    I grinned. ¡°Maybe.¡± But I was right. I was being followed. At least I wasn¡¯t paranoid.


    She rolled her eyes, and we laughed, but the feeling didn¡¯t completely fade. I tried to shake it off. It had mostly faded into the background by the time we were halfway to the lecture hall.


    Until the course coordinator walked into the room, her eyes scanning the class.


    ¡°Alexandra Irving?¡± she called, her voice cutting through the usual classroom murmur.


    My heart skipped a beat. What did I do? My brain jumped from the harmless prank from last semester to something far worse¡ªsomething happening to my family. Ilya. Kostya. Mom.


    ¡°Come with me, please.¡±


    I glanced at Alex, who looked concerned but said nothing. My stomach twisted as I followed the coordinator down the hall. Deep breaths, Sasha. It¡¯s probably nothing.


    But when she led me to a room I didn¡¯t recognize, the unease settled back in, heavy. The space was filled with arcane devices and arc-tech, and people in white coats milled about, their expressions too serious for comfort. At the center of it all stood a man with a soft smile, his eyes far too sharp. He introduced himself as "Master Ivan." Master meant he was a certified mage; that¡¯s an honorific you get when you earn a diploma. They probably call you "mistress" now, right? The female version? They do me. "Mistress Irving." I actually like it, despite¡­ everything. Do you? Do you understand these nuances? They probably seem so strange to you, don¡¯t they?


    Back then it was still "miss." ¡°Ah, Miss Irving,¡± he greeted me with a small nod. ¡°Thank you for coming.¡± He gestured to a chair. ¡°We just need to run a few more tests. Shouldn¡¯t take long.¡±


    I glanced around, nerves tightening in my chest. No other students. Just me. ¡°What kind of tests?¡± I asked, my voice smaller than I¡¯d like.


    ¡°Just follow-ups from yesterday,¡± he said, waving it off like it was nothing. ¡°Routine.¡±


    I wanted to leave, but they insisted I¡¯d agreed to it¡ªshowing me the form I¡¯d signed yesterday, my signature clear at the bottom. I stared at it, trying to make sense of the legal jargon. How did I miss this?


    They handed me a cup of coffee. A good one, not the watery cafeteria kind. They were polite, treating me like an adult, like everything was perfectly normal.


    I sat down, gripping the warm cup in my hands, while the machines hummed softly. They strapped devices to my wrists and temples, all while making strained small talk. It was strange, but not uncomfortable; the machines pricked occasionally with static, like tiny sparks under my skin. A part of me still clung to hope. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was my shot.


    The tests dragged on longer than I expected, and the researchers murmured quietly to each other, their words just out of reach. I felt like a puzzle they were trying to solve, and each test was another piece they were trying to fit into place. All the while, I kept telling myself it was fine. This was the university. They wouldn¡¯t do anything bad, right? Right?


    Finally, they unhooked me, the machines letting out soft clicks as they powered down. Master Ivan handed me an envelope¡ªthicker than before.


    ¡°Thank you, Miss Irving. We appreciate your cooperation,¡± he said, but his smile felt off, like there was something he wasn¡¯t saying. I wonder what he was thinking at that moment. Did he hope they were right, or did he hope they were wrong?


    I stood on shaky legs. ¡°So¡­ is everything okay?¡±


    ¡°Everything¡¯s fine,¡± he assured me, but his eyes said otherwise. ¡°We¡¯ll be in touch if we need anything more.¡±


    I nodded, stepping outside into the cold. The chill bit into my skin, but it didn¡¯t feel refreshing. I clutched the cash envelope in my hands, but its weight didn¡¯t ease the tightness in my chest.


    Something wasn¡¯t right. Even then, I felt it.


    Whatever had happened in that room, it wasn¡¯t over.


    Not by a long shot.

 Chapter 4

    Sasha.


    ---- Forth entry ------


    I promised I¡¯d keep writing, didn¡¯t I? Edgar said it¡¯s important to get everything down, raw and unfiltered. I still don¡¯t know if this will help you, or if it will just remind you of everything that¡¯s lost. Do you even believe you ever had it? Maybe it doesn¡¯t matter. Edgar gave me some of his diaries to read. He said Alaric read them, but I doubt he¡¯s shown them to anyone else. Not to... normal people. Not to ones like us. Well, like you. I won¡¯t be here much longer.


    But I think I can see how it helped him. I hope it helps you. All of this¡ªthe training, the preparation¡ªis for you. Will it ever be enough? I pray to I don''t know what that it will be.


    But I can¡¯t deny that it helps me, at least a little, to pour all this out. So here we go.


    I suppose I should start where everything really began to change, the last day that felt anything close to normal. The day my life split into "before" and "after." It¡¯s a clich¨¦, I know, but I don¡¯t know how else to describe it.


    After the tests, everything felt like a haze. The strange looks from the researchers, the hurried whispers¡ªthey kept circling in my mind, pulling me under. I tried to focus on other things, to imagine what I could do with the extra cash. Maybe treat Alex and the others to dinner, or finally get that healing course I¡¯d been eyeing. I told myself, over and over, that it wasn¡¯t really about me. It was just a fluke, a strange reading. Maybe they didn¡¯t expect someone with magic potential at a public university, and it messed up their data. Or maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªthey¡¯d offer me a scholarship.


    But the feeling that something was wrong clung to me like a shadow, no matter how hard I tried to shake it. It stayed with me through lectures, the professor¡¯s voice a dull hum, the words slipping through my mind without sticking. The more I tried to push the fear away, the closer it seemed to creep.


    And then, barely an hour after my last class ended, the course coordinator appeared. Her face was pale, and there was something in her eyes I couldn¡¯t quite place¡ªfear, disbelief, as if she was looking at a stranger. She didn¡¯t explain anything, just asked me to follow her. Very politely. I tried to ask what it was about, but she only gave a quick, tight smile and said it was just a small matter.


    The hallway felt longer than usual, the fluorescent lights too harsh, casting cold shadows against the linoleum. She led me to a door I¡¯d never noticed before, pushed it open, and then she was gone.


    I stepped inside and froze.


    Master Ivan stood in the center of the room, his expression calm but too still. He was flanked by several men in military uniforms¡ªbattle mages, their eyes sharp and fixed on me. There was no mistaking the tension in the air. It felt like the walls were closing in.


    ¡°Miss Irving, please, come in,¡± Master Ivan said, his voice steady but soft.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± I asked, my voice small, swallowed by the room.


    ¡°Just a few more assessments,¡± he said gently. ¡°Standard follow-up.¡±


    My gaze darted around, looking for an escape. The windows were covered, thick curtains blocking any view of the outside. The only exit was the door behind me, now guarded by one of the uniformed men who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Panic crawled up my throat, my heartbeat echoing in my ears.


    ¡°I¡­ I should get back to my next class,¡± I stammered, taking a step back.


    Master Ivan¡¯s smile was kind, but it didn¡¯t reach his eyes. ¡°There¡¯s no need to worry, Sasha. It won¡¯t take long.¡±


    A soldier stepped forward, his hand extended toward my phone. ¡°We¡¯ll need to hold onto this for now, please.¡± His tone was polite, but the request felt like an order.


    I clutched my phone tighter. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Standard procedure,¡± the soldier replied calmly.


    I looked at Master Ivan, hoping for some kind of explanation, some reassurance. He nodded slowly. ¡°I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s necessary.¡±


    The phone slipped from my grasp. The soldier accepted it with a slight bow, as if to make this feel normal, but nothing about it was. I had never felt so isolated. The phone felt like a lifeline I was losing.


    My hands trembled as I tried to fight the rising panic. Run. Do something. But what could I do? I was surrounded by mages who could probably tear the building apart with a spell. I was helpless. I couldn¡¯t fight, couldn¡¯t even throw a punch back then. I barely can now, even after all that training with Edgar and the others.


    You won¡¯t ever feel helpless again, will you? Edgar says you¡¯ll be stronger than I can imagine, that you¡¯ll wield magic as naturally as breathing, powerful, battle magic. I still can¡¯t believe that one day, I could be someone people look to for strength. But right then, I was powerless. I was terrified. And somehow, the fact that they were being kind made it worse.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    They guided me out of the room, their voices gentle, like they didn¡¯t want to frighten me. Like I wasn¡¯t already scared out of my mind. Master Ivan stayed by my side, speaking in soothing tones about how it wouldn¡¯t take long, how everything would be explained soon.


    Before we stepped outside, Master Ivan seemed to notice I didn¡¯t have a coat. They hadn¡¯t even allowed me to pick up my things. His brow furrowed, and without a word, he slipped off his own coat, draping it over my shoulders. It was heavy, long, and warm, smelling faintly of sandalwood and herbs. ¡°Keep it on,¡± he said softly. ¡°It¡¯ll help.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I whispered, mostly out of habit.


    Outside, the most surreal picture greeted us; but it was the sound that hit me first, a deafening roar¡ªloud, metallic, thundering. A helicopter. It was parked on the lawn, its sleek black blades slicing the air into a furious windstorm. More soldiers surrounded it, forming a protective circle. And beyond them, I saw a crowd. Students, staff, people who must have seen us emerge.


    In the midst of it all, I saw Alex. She was pushing her way to the front, her face pale with confusion, her eyes wide with fear. I tried to move toward her, but a soldier¡¯s hand closed around my arm, firm but not rough.


    ¡°Sasha!¡± Alex shouted, her voice barely audible over the roar. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± I shouted back. ¡°But I¡¯ll be fine! I promise.¡± The words felt like a lie even as they left my lips.


    The soldiers guided me toward the helicopter, the door already open. Alex¡¯s eyes met mine, and I saw the tears welling up. But there was nothing I could do. I was pulled inside, the door shut behind me, and then, suddenly, the noise vanished completely, replaced by an unnatural silence as the runework on the cabin walls glowed softly. The world outside had been sealed away.


    The ride was endless. The landscape below blurred as the hours dragged on¡ªsnow-covered mountains unfolding in the distance, forests blanketed in white, lakes gleaming under the winter sun. It should have been beautiful, but it didn¡¯t feel real. It felt like a backdrop, as if the world was moving while I was standing still.


    Master Ivan sat beside me, his voice drifting in and out. He talked about places in Lovenia, about the magical wonders I might see there, small talk meant to distract me. I kept asking, ¡°Where are we going?¡± ¡°Why is this happening?¡± But he never answered, not really. He deflected, evaded, his jaw tightening each time I pressed him. Whatever was happening, it weighed on him too.


    After a while, he stopped talking. Silence fell over the cabin, and the only sound was the faint hum of the runes in the walls. I tried to focus on the view, to pretend that this was just a strange adventure. But every time I looked at Master Ivan, I saw something in his eyes¡ªpity, maybe, or regret. It twisted my fear into something darker. What do you know that you¡¯re not telling me?


    Now I understand what he felt, I think. I wonder if he was afraid to tell me the truth, or if he thought this kindness would somehow soften whatever came next. But the weight in his eyes¡­ it means now, when I think about it, that he knew¡ªknew what this meant, what it might mean for me. He wasn¡¯t just keeping secrets to protect himself. He was trying to protect me from the truth, at least for a little while longer. Maybe it was a kind thing to do. At least, I had half a day more before learning the truth.


    When we landed, the city was aglow with lights, twinkling like stars scattered across the earth. Lovenia. The capital. I¡¯d always wanted to visit, but not like this. The helicopter touched down on a private helipad atop an elegant building, and as the door opened, a burst of cold air swept in, sharp against my skin.


    A woman stood there waiting, greeting me with a polite nod, and draping a fur coat over my shoulders. The fabric was impossibly soft, wrapping me in warmth like I¡¯d never felt before.


    They led me through the building, down grand corridors lined with artwork and chandeliers that glittered like constellations. The marble floors gleamed underfoot, and the walls were draped with rich tapestries. It was beautiful, overwhelming, something out of a fairy tale or a dream. It was completely surreal.


    At the end of the corridor, we reached a set of double doors. The woman who¡¯d met us at the helipad opened them and gestured for me to enter. ¡°This will be your room for the night,¡± she said.


    The suite was vast, impossibly large, with high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. A fireplace crackled softly in the corner, casting a warm glow over the plush carpets, the velvet chairs, the bed that looked like it could swallow me whole. A tray on the table held a silver coffee pot, steam curling from its spout. The air smelled faintly of lavender, one of my favorite scents.


    I wandered through the room, trailing my fingers over smooth surfaces¡ªmahogany, silk, marble, and other materials whose names I didn¡¯t know. The wardrobe was full of clothes in my size: fine sweaters, dresses, even undergarments. I couldn¡¯t believe it; how could they know? Now I understand they simply asked Alex and others, but back then it felt like a dream¡ªa nightmare¡ªthat made less and less sense with each moment.


    I poured a cup of coffee, letting the rich aroma fill the air, hoping it would steady my hands. The first sip was perfect, the kind of taste that could make you believe the world wasn¡¯t falling apart. Almost.


    But the truth was, the luxury felt oppressive, and I felt more out of place than ever in my life. I still do, even now that I understand how it works and why. Are you used to it? Edgar seems to just accept it as if it is how it should be. But then again, he is from the Miller family. He was born in riches. Even if he forgot about it, maybe something stayed? How about you? Can you enjoy these things? Please do, for both of us. You deserve everything they give you. And more.


    I sank onto the bed, my body sinking into the soft mattress. It was far too big for me, the sheets cool and smooth beneath my hands. It was the best bed I¡¯d ever lain in. I stared out at the city lights and thought about Rovalia, about my parents, about Ilya and little Kostya. They felt so far away, like they belonged to another life, a life that had slipped away without me noticing.


    Tears welled up, spilling over before I could stop them. They blurred everything¡ªthe room, the lights, the future. I curled up against the pillows, clutching one to my chest. ¡°I want to go home,¡± I whispered, and the words felt like a plea, a child¡¯s wish spoken into the darkness.


    I cried¡ªharder than I¡¯d cried in years. The kind of tears that come from deep inside, that make your whole body shake. I cried until I was exhausted, until my breaths came in ragged gasps. I needed my mother, my father, the warmth of our tiny house. I wanted to be a kid again. I was just a kid. I still am. I wanted someone to hold me and tell me everything would be okay.


    But even then, I knew. I knew that I would never go home again.

 Chapter 5

    Sasha.


    -----Fifth Entry-----


    Last time, I stopped right before the big revelation, didn¡¯t I? Not that it¡¯s much of a revelation to you, granted, but for me, the morning after I was taken¡ªkidnapped, really¡ªwas the moment when my life ended. I needed some time before I could even think of describing how it went. It¡¯s still hard.


    I thought about skipping this altogether, telling you about my¡ªyour¡ªchildhood instead. About the talent show where I took first place, or the pranks I played, or Gruffy, the dog who was practically my best friend growing up. I could tell you about our family barbecues and how I always ended up with the most ridiculous charades to act out. I could have done that.


    But no. You need to know how it really happened. How my life ended, and yours began. Why I made this decision for both of us.


    When I woke up, the first thing I felt was hope. That maybe all of it had been some terrible nightmare. That maybe, somehow, I could just go back to being normal again. But then I saw the room around me¡ªthe extravagant furnishings, the heavy velvet curtains, the faint floral scent in the air¡ªand the hope fractured, leaving a hollow ache in its place. It wasn¡¯t a dream. This was real.


    The room was beautiful¡ªtoo beautiful. The kind of beauty that demanded to be noticed, that seemed designed to impress. It made me feel small, out of place, like an intruder in someone else''s life. The plush carpet under my feet was thick and soft, but it felt like walking on quicksand, as though it might swallow me whole if I stopped moving. The soft glow filtering through the curtains, the way everything seemed so perfectly arranged¡ªit all felt wrong. I wasn¡¯t supposed to be here; I was supposed to be waking up in my cluttered dorm room, with Alex¡¯s music blaring from her side of the room and the smell of burnt coffee from the kitchenette.


    I took my time with the bath, fumbling with the strange knobs and enchanted fixtures until the water finally cascaded down. The water felt just right against my skin, not too hot and not too cold, the temperature I was never able to get in our old shower, but it felt too comfortable. Everything about this place was too fancy, too perfect. But I let the water wash over me, trying to rinse away the fear, even if just for a moment. If I was a prisoner, at least I could be clean.


    After, I put on my own clothes. The new underwear was too comfortable to resist, but I didn¡¯t want to give in completely to the luxury they surrounded me with. It felt like a small rebellion, a way of holding on to something that was mine.


    When I stepped out, steam still curling from my hair, I found a breakfast that simply appeared on the table, arch-tech runes glowing softly, keeping it fresh. It was an impossible spread: glistening fruit, steaming pastries, stuff I didn''t even know the names of. But it all felt hollow. It was like eating in a dream, where flavors don¡¯t quite reach you, and nothing feels real. I took a sip of the coffee, though, letting the heat burn my tongue, hoping the bitterness would pull me back to myself. For a fleeting moment, the taste brought me back to the world I knew. But only for a moment.


    I told myself that they wouldn¡¯t be treating me like this if I were in danger, right? If they planned to harm me, why all the luxury? Maybe I really did have some unique magical potential, and they were just preparing me for an offer to study at Lovenia. It felt ridiculous even as I thought it, but I needed to hold onto something. Anything.


    Then came the knock at the door.


    ¡°Miss Irving?¡± Master Ivan¡¯s voice was almost hesitant. ¡°May we come in?¡±


    "May"¡ªas if I had any real choice in the matter. ¡°Come in,¡± I replied, my voice steady but hollow.


    The door swung open, and Master Ivan entered, but he wasn¡¯t alone. Beside him was a man whose presence seemed to fill the room¡ªGrand Master Slavian Torrent. I recognized him immediately. The most powerful mage in the country, the head of the Arcane Council, the dean of the Lovenia Magic Arts Academy, my dream school, just standing right there, looking at me like I mattered.


    ¡°Mistress Irving,¡± he greeted. ¡°Mistress,¡± sure. Mistress of what? Certainly not my own fate.


    ¡°I apologize for the circumstances,¡± he continued, his steady gaze carrying an emotion I couldn¡¯t quite place. ¡°And for all the distress you¡¯ve experienced.¡± There was a flicker in his eyes¡ªsympathy, perhaps. Or pity. ¡°I know you have questions, and you deserve answers. But before we continue, I must perform a verification. May I?¡±


    ¡°Verification?¡±


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    ¡°Soul vision,¡± he explained simply. ¡°I need to be certain before we proceed.¡±


    I nodded, a tightness forming in my throat, and he stepped closer. His eyes began to glow faintly, the light somehow not spilling outward, but pulling inward, like a breath being drawn into my very being. The sensation that followed was subtle, like the brush of a cool breeze against the back of my mind; I wouldn''t have noticed if he hadn''t informed me.


    When the glow faded, Grand Master Torrent let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly, but the look in his eyes became even heavier. ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± he exchanged a glance with Master Ivan, who nodded back, his face taut with a mix of relief and dread.


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± I asked, my voice cracking. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    Grand Master Torrent turned to me, his eyes filled with something that made the room feel colder, the air thicker, pressing down on my chest. ¡°Please, Sasha,¡± he said quietly. ¡°Sit down. There is much you need to know.¡±


    I didn¡¯t want to sit. My legs twitched, and my pulse quickened, instinct screaming at me to run. But where? There was nowhere to go. I sat down anyway because I felt like if I didn¡¯t, the room would swallow me whole.


    He sat across from me, and for a moment, silence stretched out, tense and suffocating. When he spoke again, his voice was careful, the way you might speak to someone standing on a ledge. ¡°You are familiar with our stand against Chaos, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Who wasn¡¯t? The holy Saviors¡ªthe legendary mages, heroes who had given everything to close the Door and hold back Chaos. Every fifty years or so, a new Savior would rise, not to victory, but to endure two decades of unimaginable suffering, only to return and¡­ and self-annihilate immediately. It was the ultimate sacrifice, a fate far worse than death; it was unthinkable. And necessary.


    ¡°The Door is nearly open again,¡± he said, slowly. ¡°It is a matter of months now.¡±


    That couldn¡¯t be true. We would¡¯ve known if the situation was so dire, right? ACC would inform the public, wouldn''t they? My heart beat faster, thudding painfully against my ribs, each word striking like a hammer blow. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°There is no Savior,¡± he said, and the words seemed to echo in the space between us. ¡°We¡¯ve searched for years. We were prepared for the worst.¡±


    ¡°The worst?¡± My voice was barely a whisper. My hands felt like ice, numb and useless on my lap.


    ¡°A full-scale invasion,¡± he replied, his tone flat, devoid of hope. ¡°The end of everything.¡±


    The room seemed to close in around me, the air thickening with every breath. The walls, the plush carpets, the rich curtains¡ªit all felt like a cage. ¡°Why¡­ why are you telling me this?¡± It couldn¡¯t be. He couldn¡¯t mean¡ª


    He drew a breath that seemed to drain the light from the room. ¡°Because you, Sasha, are the one we¡¯ve been searching for.¡±


    My whole body went rigid, a chill running through my veins, making my skin prickle. ¡°No,¡± I whispered,  ¡°No, that¡¯s not possible.¡±


    I was nothing like the people who had taken the mantle of Saviors. They were grown-up, powerful mages, not... me. I was nothing. I couldn¡¯t be. That couldn¡¯t¡ª


    Grand Master Torrent didn¡¯t flinch, his gaze unwavering. ¡°I wish it wasn¡¯t,¡± he said, and there was a raw honesty in his voice, something that made me listen even when I wanted to shut my ears and scream. ¡°But the soul vision confirmed it. Your soul fits the task. Behind all legends, Sasha, it¡¯s not about power or magic. It¡¯s about soul energy frequency. The one you possess. And we don''t have any other candidates.¡±


    The words shattered the last bit of denial I¡¯d clung to, and a wave of panic surged up, tightening in my chest, making it hard to breathe. My vision blackened, and the room tilted around me. ¡°I¡¯m not a Savior,¡± I choked out, my hands flying to my hair, fingers curling tightly around the strands. ¡°I¡¯m just¡­ I¡¯m just me. I¡¯m not like them.¡± I thought of my family, of the home I¡¯d probably never see again. I thought of Alex¡¯s smile, Ilya¡¯s laugh, the feel of our small backyard grass under my feet. I couldn¡¯t be the one who had to give all that up. Please no. Please anything but this.


    ¡°I know,¡± he said, his voice softening as though he could somehow ease the blow. ¡°And I am so, so sorry.¡±


    I felt the weight of the chair pressing against my back, the wood digging into my spine like it was trying to push me deeper into the earth. ¡°You can¡¯t just¡­ ask for it,¡± I said, desperation making my voice rise, my fingers gripping the chair¡¯s arms as if I could break free from the fate they were forcing on me. ¡°You can¡¯t just decide that I¡¯m supposed to¡­¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t, the world will end,¡± he interrupted, his voice steady, but his eyes glimmering with pity. It only made it worse. ¡°Chaos will consume everything.¡±


    Everything. The word seemed to wrap around my throat, squeezing out the air, pressing down on my chest with the weight of all things in the world I loved. Of all the people I loved.


    The tears blurred my vision, spilling over before I could stop them. They tasted of salt and fear, each drop like a piece of me slipping away. ¡°I don¡¯t want to die,¡± I whispered, barely able to speak. ¡°I don¡¯t want this.¡±


    Grand Master Torrent¡¯s expression softened with something like grief. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought I saw the faintest tremor in his hand as he reached out to me. ¡°I understand,¡± he said quietly. How could he, though? ¡°But there is no other way.¡±


    The room seemed to spin, and the crushing reality of what this meant settled over me like a suffocating fog. I thought of my family, Alex, magic, and things I thought I had. ¡°Why me?¡± I managed to say, my voice breaking. ¡°Why does it have to be me?¡±


    ¡°Because there is no one else,¡± he said, the quiet finality in his tone striking like a blow. ¡°We were desperate, Sasha. And finding you¡­ it was our last hope.¡±


    I wanted to scream, to tear the room apart, to wake up from this nightmare. But all I could do was stand there, trembling, while the tears continued to fall.


    Grand Master Torrent¡¯s voice cut through the haze of despair. ¡°I¡¯ll take you to Edgar,¡± he said gently. ¡°It¡¯s all I can do for you now.¡±


    And just like that, my fate was sealed. My end began.

 Chapter 6

    Sasha


    ----Sixth Entry----


    So, here it was¡ªthe big revelation. But not much of a revelation for you, huh? You lived through it; somehow, impossibly, you did. And I¡­


    Well, back to it. Grand Master Torrent¡¯s words lingered like a bruise: ¡°We will insist you speak with him.¡± Edgar the Lived. The name echoed through every corner of society, synonymous with sacrifice, strength, and survival. Just the day before, I¡¯d sort of prayed to him, hoping for a decent first date. And now I was on my way to meet him.


    But the impossibility of it, the grandeur, didn¡¯t fully register. My mind was numb, empty, circling the same thoughts: This cannot be. How could this happen? Some of me expected hidden cameras and voices calling me out on the world''s cruelest reality show, with me as a star. That would make more sense.


    The trip to Serenia should¡¯ve been mesmerizing¡ªthe massive jet cutting through the sky, the world sprawling far below, vast and serene. I¡¯d never flown before, never traveled further than Gorenza, and now¡­ a helicopter to the capital, and a private jet across the Serene Sea. I¡¯d never even seen the sea, and here it was, endless, turquoise, calm. Its peace mocked the storm inside me. My mind circled Torrent¡¯s words, his heavy gaze, full of pity and relief. Relief. Because they¡¯d found their next Savior. Good for them.


    The cabin crew treated me like a guest, or maybe a delicate piece of glass, lavishing me with luxuries I couldn¡¯t appreciate. Grand Master Torrent even returned my phone, with a quiet, ¡°Be mindful.¡± But I hadn¡¯t turned it on. That tiny piece of my former life now felt miles away. Hi, Mom and Dad. Guess what? I¡¯m going to be sacrificed to save the world. And how was your day?


    Once we landed, they rushed me through the towering halls of the World Council¡ªgrand columns, palatial paintings, like something out of a history book or a palace tour on TV. I didn¡¯t care. The sunset in massive windows was a violent blaze of red and orange, casting the sky in flames.


    And then they led me into another opulent room, and I finally met him.


    Edgar rushed through the other door, his presence filling the space as if he¡¯d been born to stand there, effortlessly commanding. He didn¡¯t need magic for that, though even I, untrained, could feel the power that seemed to pulse from him, filling the air, pressing down on me. He looked older than on screen, but he was the opposite of frail. His gaze held the weight of lifetimes, his clothes marked by the remnants of magic, dust from a recent eruption still on his uniform. He just came back from the battle.


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    The weight of everything crashed over me then, and all the dread, disbelief, and terror I¡¯d been holding back broke. I cried, really cried, as I clung to him, the living legend, the only one who had survived what lay ahead of me. And he held me for what felt like hours, arms steady, silent, the first anchor I¡¯d felt in this churning sea of fear.


    When I finally stopped, he handed me a glass of water. I took it, grateful for the simple gesture, the kindness. It cooled my throat, easing the tightness there, helping me find a fragile thread of control. When I looked back up, his eyes were studying me with almost painful kindness.


    ¡°Hello, Sasha,¡± he said.


    I tried to greet him properly, to meet him as a legend deserved, but my throat was too tight, my mind still fogged. He didn¡¯t push me for words; he just watched, waiting with an understanding that felt both comforting and devastating.


    His gaze softened as he shook his head. ¡°You¡¯re just a kid,¡± he murmured, almost to himself. ¡°It shouldn¡¯t be.¡±


    It shouldn''t. I was just a kid. I am just a kid.


    ¡°Is it really so bad?¡±


    He met my eyes, steady, unyielding. ¡°It¡¯s worse,¡± he said quietly, with no hesitation. ¡°And then it¡¯s infinitely worse.¡± His words didn¡¯t soften the horror; they sharpened it. He held nothing back, no illusions, no comforting lies. ¡°A second of it can drive someone insane.¡±


    A part of me wanted to scream at him, to demand he lie, tell me something, anything that might make it bearable. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you tell me it¡¯s not that bad?¡± My voice trembled.


    He didn¡¯t flinch. He met my gaze, his eyes both soft and piercing. ¡°Not if I want you to survive,¡± he said. His voice was so certain that, for a heartbeat, I believed him.


    I couldn¡¯t look away. Something in his eyes¡ªa solemnity, a knowledge¡ªtold me he had seen everything, endured every horror, and somehow he was still here, standing in front of me, whole in a way I couldn¡¯t understand.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to say anything,¡± he added softly. ¡°Or decide now. I know how impossible it feels.¡± He paused, his voice almost breaking. ¡°But I also know what choice you¡¯ll make.¡±


    His words settled over me, heavy. I didn¡¯t respond; there was nothing to say, nothing that could change the inevitable. We both knew there wasn¡¯t a choice, not when I was the only one who could do it. Not when the alternative was to let the world burn.


    The silence between us grew thick, almost solid. And then he spoke again, his voice gentler, more cautious.


    ¡°Let¡¯s talk about how we can save at least some part of you, shall we?¡±

 Chapter 7

    Sasha


    ---- Seventh Entry -----


    The silence between Edgar and me felt fragile. He looked down, his eyes dark and heavy, and then he nodded. ¡°First, you need to understand what a Savior''s vigil really means.¡±


    I thought I knew it, being raised on the stories of Chaos, of Saviors'' sacrifices, unimaginable suffering beyond the Door, and their self-annihilation upon return. I knew most of them by name, by the worship humanity held for them. But something in Edgar¡¯s face told me that I might not know everything.


    I didn¡¯t want to know more.


    ¡°The Door,¡± he began, ¡°as you know, is a magical contraption covering the weak spot in the Wall, our world''s protective barrier that keeps Chaos at bay. Every few decades, the Door¡¯s magic depletes, and it needs time to recharge, to gather enough energy to hold him back.¡± His tone was detached, as though explaining the mechanics of a machine, but something in his face betrayed him. ¡°During that time, a human has to be bound to it. Your body remains safe and intact in stasis inside the Door, while your soul... your soul is on the other side, and Chaos can reach it.¡±


    I nodded. That much I knew, although in his explanations, it sounded clinical, and not sacred.


    ¡°So essentially,¡± he said, almost harshly, ¡°You are a placeholder. Worse.¡± He stopped, inhaled sharply, and went on. ¡°A scapegoat. That¡¯s what you¡¯ll be. A living sacrifice bound to a prison. Chaos will latch onto you, and he¡¯ll know exactly why you¡¯re there. He¡¯ll take every ounce of his hatred, every bit of his rage, and he¡¯ll focus it all on you. You¡¯ll be the only thing he can reach.¡±


    The dread and hatred in his voice echoed the terror building inside me. My hands felt numb, my whole body sinking under the weight of his words. He continued, unflinching, ¡°He¡¯ll use everything you are, everything you love, twist it against you. You¡¯ll try to resist¡ªyou¡¯ll have no choice but to fight. But every defense will be stripped away, and he¡¯ll find new ways to tear you apart. Again and again, until there is nothing left.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know what to say. What could I say? The air felt thick, suffocating.


    Edgar watched me, his eyes so full of an ancient pain it seemed to crackle in the room. ¡°And it¡¯s not all, Sasha. The vigil¡­ it¡¯s not two decades for us. Chaos... Chaos is almost all-powerful. He can control time. He stretches it for you, drawing it out to an infinity. I am talking millions of years, Sasha. Hundreds of millions of years. Eternity. You¡¯ll lose any sense of time, of reality. After a while, you won¡¯t even know if anything exists beyond the pain.¡±


    Eternity. The word shattered whatever numb shield I¡¯d been trying to build. ¡°But¡­ people think it¡¯s just¡­ two decades,¡± I stammered, the enormity of his words a physical blow.


    ¡°Because I never shared this information with the public,¡± he replied, voice raw yet unyielding. ¡°I... decided not to. What would it change? It would only make everything worse.¡± He sighed, and for a second, I thought about the weight this person¡ªthis hero¡ªbore. Not just the weight of eternity but the whole world resting on his shoulders in ways I had never imagined.


    But my mind was circling back to eternity. Eternal pain.


    My stomach twisted, nausea rising like bile. Every horror I¡¯d imagined paled in comparison. They¡¯d sent people¡ªsaints, heroes, holy figures¡ªto endure eternity under the gaze of pure hatred. And now, me.


    ¡°You¡¯ll try to end it, Sasha. You¡¯ll try to stop the pain, over and over.¡± His voice was low and steady, the words falling like hammer blows. ¡°That¡¯s why we all try to self-annihilate the moment we are back. We¡¯ve tried for an eternity, and this is just the moment when it finally works.¡±


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    He paused, his gaze darkening. ¡°That¡¯s why we lose them. Alaric¡­ all of them. It¡¯s not a choice, not really. It¡¯s an instinct, a pull, a final release¡ªthe only thing that you can truly want, after you forgot what ¡®wanting¡¯ even means.¡±


    I closed my eyes, unable to meet his gaze. My chest felt tight, my throat raw, the room spinning as I tried to grasp the horror of what he was telling me. They¡­ they didn¡¯t even understand they were finally free, did they?


    Edgar spoke again, his voice softer, almost hesitant. ¡°When you return¡­ if you return, you¡¯ll be shattered. But you will be alive, for a moment, at least. I¡¯ll do everything in my power to keep you here, to hold you. There are ways¡ªit did work for me; there is a chance. That¡¯s all I can offer.¡±


    ¡°And if¡­ if they all want to die, why don¡¯t you just¡­ let them?¡± I asked, barely able to form the words. ¡°Why do you try so hard to make them survive?¡±


    He closed his eyes, his face crumpling with an anguish that was almost unbearable to witness. ¡°Because it¡¯s the final cruelty¡ªto lose everything, to suffer eternities, only to die the moment you¡¯re free. If I can keep you alive, even just a part of you, it¡¯s a way to defy him. To show him he hasn¡¯t won. That he couldn''t destroy you, after all.¡± His voice cracked.


    The silence stretched between us. My mind felt numb, empty. But Edgar wasn''t finished.


    ¡°But¡­¡± Edgar went on. ¡°Maybe it is not worth it. Maybe it is better to finally end it.¡± A look of pure exhaustion crossed his face. ¡°I¡¯ve thought about it more times than I can count. Maybe it would be better to let him take us all, to stop the Cycle. To stop sending people¡ªsending you¡ªinto this nightmare.¡±


    The enormity of his confession settled over me, a moment of pure, raw honesty that left me breathless. Edgar, the legendary Savior, the head of the Anti-Chaos Coalition, the man who had dedicated his life to preserving humanity, was telling me that he doubted the very thing he was meant to protect. That he was willing to let it all end.


    ¡°But if Chaos wins, won¡¯t he just¡­ won¡¯t he torture everyone? Forever?¡± I whispered, the absurdity of my own question startling me. How could I even think these things, let alone say it out loud?


    Edgar sighed, his gaze distant. ¡°He would. For as long as he could. But there¡¯s a limit to what he can do to an ordinary person, to a human body. And physical pain is... limited. There¡¯s a finality to death that he can¡¯t overcome, at least not in the same way.¡± He looked at me, eyes dark with a pain I couldn¡¯t fully understand. ¡°With a Savior, there¡¯s no end. The Door keeps you alive beyond reason, beyond mercy.¡±


    A shiver ran down my spine, the words settling into a terrible understanding. Chaos wouldn¡¯t just torture me; he would imprison me in suffering, an eternity without death. And Edgar¡­ his words "physical pain is... limited" echoed in my mind. Edgar was immune to physical pain. It was a fact everyone knew, a detail that had always seemed terrifying but distant, but now¡­


    I looked at him, truly looked, and felt my stomach drop. What had Chaos done to him? What would it do to me?


    He watched me, his face shadowed with understanding and something close to pity. ¡°I won¡¯t tell you what to do, Sasha. This is your choice. Maybe¡­ maybe it is better to let it all end. Some part of me... was relieved that we couldn¡¯t find a candidate¡ªcouldn¡¯t find you¡ªfor so long. But now¡­ you are here.¡±


    He meant it. If I chose not to go, he would accept it. No judgment, no blame. He would understand more deeply than anyone could. He seemed¡­ almost hoping I would refuse the vigil. The realization chilled me to my core.


    But I couldn¡¯t choose that. Not when everyone I loved would be taken with me. I couldn¡¯t abandon them to that fate. If I had to choose between eternity and the destruction of everything¡­ I had to choose the vigil. And...


    ¡°It¡¯s my best chance to survive, isn¡¯t it?¡± My voice was barely a whisper. I¡¯ll die anyway, won¡¯t I?


    Edgar nodded, sadness settling over his face. ¡°It is. I¡¯ll do everything to help you.¡±


    And in that moment, I knew he meant it. I was terrified, shattered, but for the first time since I learned about my fate, I felt a flicker of something else¡ªa determination to survive if only to defy the horror that lay ahead.


    And if Edgar did it and became who he is today, maybe I also could.


    So now you know why I chose it. I don¡¯t know if you understand it, if you understand why I couldn¡¯t make the other choice. Maybe you would prefer to let the world burn¡ªespecially now when you don¡¯t remember anything about it. I won¡¯t blame you for it. It is me who you should blame, after all. Because I will disappear, gone into this nightmare, this eternity, while you, you are the one who we try so hard to keep alive.


    And if you are reading this, we succeeded.

 Chapter 8

    Sasha


    -----Eighth Entry-------


    So, we''re almost here; we''ve almost reached today.


    After that conversation with Edgar, when I agreed¡ªsort of¡ªto the vigil, the world around me accelerated again. Within hours, I was in the legendary Anti-Chaos Coalition¡¯s stronghold, the facility near the physical manifestation of the Door. Everyone knew about this place; this was where Saviors went to their vigil for millennia.


    Now, it stood modern¡ªa small city of stone and glass, buzzing with the energy of a thousand souls bound by duty. Researchers, soldiers, medics, and mages hurried by, faces marked with exhaustion but steadfast resolve. Thirty-five years since Alaric''s return, the ACC was stretched thin, and here, it was felt.


    My room was simple, nothing like the suite in Lovenia, but high-quality and equipped with everything I could possibly need¡ªuniforms, tech, books, journals, all that. They went further, though, and tried to make it feel like home. The small gestures¡ªthe neatly folded bedsheets, the pictures that appeared on the wall, the plush puppy someone left on my bed¡ªreminded me of what I was sacrificing myself for but also what I was leaving. I scoffed when I saw the plushie. How old did they think I was? I was (well, almost) eighteen!


    But between me and you, I might have held onto that plushie in the middle of the night with more force than it was made to endure.


    Edgar kept his promise: no guards, no locked doors. I had total freedom. Sometimes, I felt that he wanted me to leave. But I couldn¡¯t, even if I also wished I could.


    Training started the next morning. It was structured and relentless but not overwhelming. Edgar seemed surprised that I had no formal magical training, but he led me through the basics as if teaching a novice was normal for the most powerful mage in the world. ¡°Magic is a conversation,¡± he said, watching me with that weight of understanding. ¡°Not just a command. Feel it, then move it.¡±


    The first time I managed a fire orb, a small sphere flickered and pulsed between my fingers, its heat radiating down my fingertips; it was like my heartbeat turned for a second into flame. I held it, feeling its warmth crawl up my arm, thrilling. It felt like discovering a piece of myself that had been waiting, coiled and hidden, finally set free. I glanced at Edgar for approval, and he gave a small nod, a rare smile forming.


    ¡°Good, Sasha,¡± he said. ¡°Hold onto that feeling. Now, control it.¡±


    Even as the rush of magic surged through me, connecting me to something profound, the bitter knowledge of why I was learning it never left. I was talented¡ªjust as I¡¯d secretly hoped my whole life. But to only get the chance to learn now, with the most impossible teacher... it was a cruel irony. The world gave me what I wanted more than anything but asked for everything in return.


    Battle training was a completely different story. I¡¯d never been a fighter. Even as a child, I would take a beating rather than fight back. Even in video games, combat repelled me. Really, why do you even need fighting in a peaceful farm simulator? And now, facing targets, my hands froze. It took several days to understand that I had a block in my mind. Then, they switched the standard human-shaped targets for abstract ones¡ªcircles and triangles. It made it easier, but not by much. My palms grew slick with sweat as I tried to summon the energy, the air around me crackling faintly. My aim wavered, and spells lacked force.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t a warrior,¡± Edgar said one day. ¡°And it''s fine. But you will have to fight, Sasha. Chaos will make you. Better to know how than to be utterly powerless.¡±


    The thought of fighting terrified and repulsed me, but the idea of being powerless, just a toy for Chaos, was far worse. So, I kept going, clumsy and hesitant. I must¡¯ve been the worst trainee this facility had ever seen. Yet Edgar never seemed disappointed; he was teaching me to hold onto even the shred of agency, however futile it might be: "You won''t ever win; it''s not about it. But even the smallest edge, a second more of pushing back, will feel like everything."


    Honestly, it didn''t work. I was terrible, and now, after five months of training, I am not much better. But I have drilled the basics. Did it help you, future me? I hope it did.


    But it wasn¡¯t just training, you know? I had therapy, medical checks, and all sorts of other things. Therapy felt strange at first¡ªlike, how could they possibly help me? But somehow, it did. Or at least, I could cry there, and crying in Dr. Noran¡¯s presence felt less weird than with anyone else.


    Edgar also insisted I spend time with the ACC trainees, future battle mages, knowing I needed peers. ¡°Maybe you shouldn¡¯t spend all your time with experts and a 150-year-old man,¡± he¡¯d say, with that phantom smile of his.


    At first, I felt out of place among these elite cadets, the best from around the globe, a few years older but worlds apart in experience. They were like real soldiers and mages, trained from childhood. Yet they treated me with a mix of teasing and respect that felt normal. They called me ¡°Twinkle,¡± a nickname born when my spell scattered into sparkles instead of actually hitting the aim. I pretended to hate it, but actually, I didn''t. They also never used the word "Savior," and oh, how I did get to hate the "S" word at this point.


    One night, we did something reckless. Mira, with a gleam in her eyes, suggested ¡°borrowing¡± a battle helicopter. "I am a licensed pilot, you know. Well, almost" - she smiled. The rotors thumped above us as we lifted off, the lights of the facility shrinking beneath. The cold night air rushed in, whipping through our hair and stinging our cheeks. We whooped and hollered, sheer exhilaration filling us as we soared over the grounds, the world a blur below. For those minutes, I wasn¡¯t Sasha, the Savior-to-be; I was just Sasha, alive and free.


    Of course, we were scolded. Well, they were. No one dared scold me. Edgar didn¡¯t say a word; he just gave me a knowing smirk, the creases around his eyes deepening as if he were glad I had this.


    These moments kept me afloat. They were stolen glimpses of a life that felt light and normal. But when night fell, so did the silence, pressing down until it was suffocating. Those were the nights Edgar would somehow find me, every time, sitting in the dark, holding my plush puppy¡ªthe one secret comfort that made the darkness seem a little less endless¡ªwith eyes that burned from unshed tears. He¡¯d bring me coffee and sit across from me in silence, a steady presence pushing back the despair.


    ¡°You won¡¯t remember any of this,¡± he said one night, breaking the quiet. ¡°But it matters, Sasha. Every moment matters, even when you think you¡¯re losing them.¡±


    I looked up at him, searching for something¡ªhope, maybe. The weight of tomorrow pressed heavily, a lingering dread that never truly faded. He offered a small, sad smile but didn¡¯t say more. It wasn''t enough. But it also was everything I had.


    The days blurred¡ªtraining, laughter, fear, and conversations that carved into parts of me I hadn¡¯t known existed. Edgar spoke of resilience, survival, what it meant to hold on and when to let go. He told me stories of his life, the fragments that remained and the life he rebuilt, and I told him about mine¡ªabout my family, my friends, and our dog Scruffy. It felt strange to tell the world¡¯s greatest hero about my ordinary, small moments, but he listened as if they were treasures.


    In those moments, he wasn¡¯t just my mentor. He was someone who had faced the impossible and come back whole, if scarred. And I wanted, desperately, to believe that I could do the same.


    Yet, as each day ended, the weight of what awaited me grew heavier, a shadow that clung to every thought.


    So, I trained, laughed, failed, feared. And now, as I write this, I cling to the fact that, for now, I am still here. Still Sasha. And if there¡¯s any part of me reading this someday, I want you to know: you were called ¡°Twinkle¡± once. You laughed. You lived. And you were loved.

 Chapter 9

    Sasha


    ---- Ninth entry -----


    You noticed all those hopeful words, didn¡¯t you? How I tried to end the previous entry with something that felt like strength, like love. Like maybe I was holding myself together.


    I¡¯m glad I¡¯m doing this digitally. My handwriting would be illegible by now, the pages soaked with tears. At least this way, no one can see how much I cried over the keyboard. And I can edit the text again and again, framing it just right, showing you what I want you to see.


    But you probably noticed¡ªoh stars, I hope you noticed¡ªalso what I didn''t say. I didn¡¯t say anything about Mom, Dad, Ilya, Alex, or anyone else. I kept writing about the helicopter ride, the training, the magic. I wrote about anything except the people I love most.


    Because I¡¯m a fucking coward.


    There¡¯s a voice inside me, whispering that if I survived, you¡¯ll read this. And when you do, I want you to like me. To think that the Sasha who wrote this was someone good, someone kind, someone brave. Someone you¡¯d want to be.


    But I am not brave or kind. I didn¡¯t contact them. Not even once.


    I wish I could blame the Coalition. But they didn¡¯t stop me. On the contrary, they gave me my phone back almost immediately. Edgar said they¡¯d bring anyone I wanted here, let me spend my last months with them. But I didn¡¯t ask.


    I couldn¡¯t face them. Not my mom, not my dad, not Ilya or Alex. I opened my phone a thousand times and stared at the messages piling up. I couldn''t even open them, fearing that people will see it, so they even brought in a tech guy who fiddled with my phone so I could read their messages without the dreaded two bold checkmarks appearing. The guy acted as if it was completely normal, to ask for this, but I knew it wasn''t.


    The messages were flooding:


    ¡°Hi, Sasha. Are you okay? We¡¯re worried about you. Please call us.¡±


    ¡°Where are you? Are you alright? Please answer.¡±


    ¡°I love you, Sasha. Just tell me you¡¯re safe.¡±


    Every word felt like a knife. I wanted to answer so many times. But doing it? Hearing their voices, feeling their hope? That would¡¯ve been unbearable.


    What could I say? Lie to them? ¡°Hi, Mom. Everything¡¯s fine. I¡¯m at a magic training facility. I¡¯ll be home by the Flower Festival!¡±


    And the truth?


    ¡°Mom, I¡¯m going to face an eternity of torment beyond anything you can imagine. The only person who went through it says it¡¯s worse than death. I¡¯ll forget you. I¡¯ll forget me. But it¡¯s okay because if I don¡¯t do this, everyone dies. So¡­ how¡¯s the garden?¡±


    No. I couldn¡¯t do it. I couldn¡¯t lie. And I couldn¡¯t tell the truth. So I said nothing. Fucking coward.


    No one blamed me, though. Dr. Noran told me it was okay. But it was his job to tell me these things, right? Edgar agreed with him. He said that everyone would understand. He sat with me the first time I tried to record my farewell messages. I stared at the blinking red light until my vision blurred, and then I broke down. He poured me coffee, sat across from me, and said, ¡°You¡¯re already giving them everything, Sasha. You don¡¯t owe them more than that. And you deserve every second of peace you can get.¡±Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    He meant it, I know; I could see it in his eyes. But I didn¡¯t believe him.


    Still, I recorded the messages.


    For Mom and Dad, I talked about Sunday mornings in Rovalia, how Mom¡¯s singing filled the house, how Dad¡¯s tinkering with his clocks made everything feel steady. I told them how much I loved them. I cried. I joked.


    For Ilya, I talked about our childhood and his dreams. I reminded him to tease Kostya for me, to tell him stories about his aunt Sasha.


    For Alex, I said she was the sister I chose, my joy and hope and meaning in the whole world.


    And for Stanis¡­ I told him he missed his chance. That he should go and get it¡ªbuild a life full of love. I tried to make it light. It hurt less than I expected. Maybe because I¡¯ve already decided you won¡¯t remember my feelings for him. And I made sure he would know it. Because if I didn''t, just the fact that I was in love with him would chain him to me, to a memory of a girl he didn¡¯t even choose, but who became a holy fucking Savior, forever. I can¡¯t do that to him. Or to you.


    The rest of the preparations weren¡¯t any easier. Edgar started explaining them in bits and pieces, trying to ease me into it. But now, with only months left, the full weight of it has settled.


    It¡¯s not about saving me. The Door won¡¯t let me die, no matter how much I¡¯ll want to. It¡¯s about saving you¡ªfuture Sasha. It¡¯s about giving you a chance to hold on.


    ¡°Memories are part of the soul,¡± Edgar said one night, his voice steady, though his exhaustion was palpable. He¡¯d just returned from Perrilion, quelling a catastrophic eruption, shadows on his face deeper than usual. He didn¡¯t seem to notice his own fatigue, though; he never did. ¡°You can¡¯t copy them. You can only transfer them. And that takes something from you.¡±


    I nodded, the words sinking in. ¡°And the Door needs a whole soul, right?¡±


    ¡°Exactly. That¡¯s why we can¡¯t preserve much. A dozen memories, maybe a few more. Any more than that, and the Door won¡¯t accept you.¡±


    A dozen memories. Out of everything I¡¯ve ever been.


    He didn¡¯t say it, but I knew he was thinking of Alaric. The world calls him the Patron Saint of Romantic Love, framing his story as the ultimate tragic romance. How he preserved only memories of his wife, Martha, and returned to find her gone. How he chose to end it as soon as he recovered enough to understand what happened. For Edgar, it¡¯s not a tale of devotion¡ªit¡¯s a failure.


    ¡°That won¡¯t happen to you,¡± Edgar said firmly. ¡°We¡¯ve learned. You¡¯ll choose several people. Several anchors. Two decades is a long time, Sasha.¡±


    I nodded again, my chest tightening. I understood.


    ¡°And the fail-safes?¡± I asked.


    He explained the spells I was learning to craft and how they would feed on my own power to create a loop that could delay my self-annihilation. A spell designed to buy time. Just moments.


    ¡°Seconds, a minute at best,¡± Edgar said. ¡°That¡¯s all we¡¯ll have. But it''s enough to reintroduce the memories. And those memories¡ªthey¡¯ll give you a reason to stay.¡±


    He paused, his gaze softening. ¡°Think of these memories as lightning during a storm. They won¡¯t light the whole sky, but they¡¯ll show you there¡¯s something beyond the darkness.¡±


    It sounded beautiful. Poetic, even. But it wasn¡¯t comforting.


    "And what if it''s not enough?" I asked. His face darkened, but his voice was calm: "It will be. It was for me. For Alaric. - he paused - at least for some time." Then he hesitated before adding quietly, ¡°And these diaries¡ªthey¡¯ll be a map. Not enough to bring who you were back, but something to hold on to.¡±


    Now, as I sit here writing this, I think about the memories I¡¯ll choose. A dozen moments to define a life. A dozen fragments of me to tether you to the world after an eternity of pain.


    I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll choose well. But I hope you¡¯re reading this. I hope you¡¯re here, alive. I pray - although I don''t know to whom anymore - that these words¡ªand the memories I will save for you¡ªare enough. They have to be, for both of us.

 Chapter 10

    Sasha


    --- Tenth Entry ---


    Well, Edgar told me these diaries would be like a map for you. So I figured a map should show places, right? And I have seen some, at least. Of the world, I am giving everything and more to protect. And I had a chance to see just a little bit of it. Carefully arranged, meticulously secured pieces, because stars preserve, they would''ve let anything happen to me before they let Chaos destroy me completely.


    But still.


    The World Council


    My first trip beyond the ACC facility, where I spent my last months, took me to Serenia''s capital, Luminara. I¡¯d been there briefly when I met Edgar for the first time, in the ACC wing of the World Council Palace. This time, I was invited¡ªor requested¡ªto step into the main chamber itself.


    Edgar didn¡¯t insist I come. ¡°It¡¯s up to you,¡± he said softly. ¡°They need to see you, but if you¡¯d rather not¡­¡±


    I said yes. I was curious. And some part of me wanted to feel important, I think.


    Spoiler: I didn''t. Not really. Mostly, I felt small. And angry.


    Serenia¡¯s Grand Hall is the kind of place that exists to remind you who holds power¡ªand that it¡¯s not you. Gold filigree climbed the marble columns, polished floors gleamed like mirrors, and banners from every nation hung heavy with pride.


    I stood at the center of it all, a girl from Lovenia¡¯s outskirts with frayed nerves and a suit more expensive than all the clothes I¡¯d ever owned before¡­ all of this. Edgar was beside me, calm and unshakable, in his ACC dress uniform, his presence more commanding than ever.


    The moment we entered, the murmurs stopped. They all stood. For me.


    A girl not even eighteen, who couldn¡¯t even vote yet. Their Savior.


    They bowed their heads, one after the other, murmuring about honor and sacrifice. ¡°We owe you everything,¡± one of them said, and the rest echoed the sentiment. Their words were perfect, rehearsed, dripping with respect and gratitude.


    But what they really felt was relief. That¡¯s what I saw in their eyes. Relief that the end of the world wasn¡¯t their problem anymore.


    The Lovenian representative, a tall man with too-perfect hair, smiled like my existence was his personal achievement. ¡°Mistress Irving,¡± he said, ¡°we are so proud to call you one of our own.¡±


    Proud. Of what? That I happened to be born in a freezing mining town on the edge of nowhere? That I was unlucky enough to have just the right energy in my soul? He talked as if my being Lovenian elevated our entire country. Like my sacrifice belonged to them. To him.


    He looked like he¡¯d never gone out in minus 30-degree frost to gather firewood because the gas line froze, again. Or chose the cheapest coffee when he wanted a latte. Or wondered how he¡¯d pay for anything.


    I wanted to scream.


    The others weren¡¯t much better. They offered gifts¡ªsmall, subtle things, expensive and tasteful, I guess. A book of poetry, an enchanted crystal, a scarf from their finest fabric. Tokens of appreciation, they called them. I wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or throw them all back in their faces. What would I do with books and scarves where I was going?This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Edgar stayed beside me the whole time. Silent, steady, a presence that filled the room more than the Council members ever could. When they pressed too hard or spoke too much, a glance from him was enough to quiet them.


    He exuded power as effortlessly as he breathed. And I don¡¯t just mean his magical powers¡ªalthough no one in the room could forget that Edgar could level Luminara with a thought¡ªbut something deeper. He told me he hated politics, but he seemed so natural, like a fish in water.


    I wondered, focusing on him instead of the speeches if it was because while he recovered from nothing, he was surrounded by fame and adoration? Or was it deeper? Was it because he was born into it, this life of power and privilege, one of the Millers, and maybe it was something so ingrained that even Chaos couldn¡¯t destroy it completely?


    Would I become like that? Or would I always feel awkward and out of place in these polished halls with intricately waved words flying around me, pretending they meant something?


    At least this trip was¡­ educational.


    The Petting Zoo


    My next trip was special. It happened on my 18th birthday.


    For some reason, I didn¡¯t think they¡¯d know. It felt so small, so unimportant compared to everything else. But they did.


    Edgar took me and the cadet squad to a petting zoo. Seriously, a petting zoo. I, the ¡°most important person in the world,¡± spent my 18th birthday at a petting zoo.


    It was perfect.


    Of course, it wasn¡¯t a normal trip. The entire place was closed off, crawling with security. The caretakers had been replaced by soldiers, and every corner was watched. It should¡¯ve felt suffocating. But somehow, it didn¡¯t.


    The alpaca was the first to catch my attention. Huge, like three of me stacked together. Its fur was impossibly soft, like I imagined clouds would feel if they weren¡¯t just frozen water. When it leaned into my hand, I froze, overwhelmed by the warmth of it. It looked at me with these big, soulful eyes. I swear, we had a moment.


    The cadets were as ridiculous as I was. Mira made a big show of pretending to ride one of the miniature ponies, while Ron, awkward and endearing as always, tried to coax a stubborn goat into following him.


    The geese, though... they were another story. What''s wrong with these birds?


    One honked, flapping its wings too close, and I yelped. Before I could even react, the cadets rushed forward like knights, shielding me from the supposed threat.


    It was ridiculous.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I muttered, watching them scramble, ¡°protect me from geese today so you can throw me at Chaos tomorrow. Makes total sense.¡±


    That awkward silence that followed? Edgar broke it with a quiet chuckle.


    The Sea


    After the zoo, Edgar handed me a coat and a thermos of coffee and beckoned me to follow him.


    He took me to the sea.


    His family¡¯s estate¡ªbecause, of course, he had a family estate¡ªstretched along the cliffs, private and untouched. He timed it perfectly; we arrived at sunset. The horizon blazed with gold and crimson, and the air smelled of salt and something untamed.


    I¡¯d only seen the sea once before, from the air. Seeing it like this was¡­ breathtaking.


    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± I whispered.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Edgar said. ¡°It is.¡±


    We sat on the rocks, bundled against the cold, the waves roaring below us, stretching endlessly into the horizon. I felt small again, but not in a bad way. Small, like a part of something infinite and beautiful.


    ¡°I grew up here,¡± Edgar said. ¡°Summers, mostly. I don¡¯t remember it, but I really wish I could. Sometimes, I even feel I almost do.¡±


    I studied his face, the lines of exhaustion, the weight he carried so effortlessly. He¡¯d been shattered once, and yet here he was. Whole, or close enough.


    ¡°Do you think I¡¯ll be like you?¡± I asked suddenly.


    He didn¡¯t answer right away. When he did, his voice was steady. ¡°You¡¯ll be you, Sasha. That¡¯s all you need to be.¡±


    I wanted to believe him.


    For a long time, we just sat there. And that¡¯s when I knew.


    I knew I wanted to keep Edgar as one of my anchors. Not just as a mentor but as something more.  Someone who understands and, as... hope.


    His expression changed when I told him. For a moment, he looked¡­ fragile, more human than I¡¯d ever seen him. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said softly, his voice almost trembling. ¡°That means more than you know.¡±


    We stayed until the last light faded, the stars glittering above and reflecting in the velvet-black sea.


    For the first time since I learned my fate, I felt something close to peace.

 Chapter 11

    --- Last Entry ---


    Sasha


    It¡¯s almost time.


    I know I¡¯ve started so many entries with that phrase, but now it¡¯s real. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I will¡­ well, you know what I will.


    I¡¯ve been rereading these pages, deciding what else to add. How do I preserve everything when I only have hours left? Should I explain even further why I picked that talent show memory, why I¡¯m a dog person even though cats are adorable, or tell you all Alex¡¯s secrets I swore I¡¯d never share? She¡¯ll be there when you return, and you¡¯ll remember her, so maybe I should.


    I explained as much as I could. But you won''t remember anything beyond these few moments; would any of it make sense? You don''t really understand the world, do you? How can I know what of my words would confuse you and what would feel like a revelation? What matters to you?


    It¡¯s pointless, isn¡¯t it? I can¡¯t preserve myself in words. These diaries are meant to be a map, a bit of the context, and maybe a bit of how *being me* felt. I cannot do much more than that.


    Still¡­ I tried. I hope it''ll be enough to preserve something.


    But... fuck it.


    I am done. I cannot spend any second more preparing for my end. I just cannot. I don¡¯t want to go. I don¡¯t want to disappear. I don¡¯t want to forget myself. And it won''t be gentle. I¡¯m so scared of the pain, the suffering, of eternity I cannot even start to fathom.


    I can¡¯t imagine letting the world end, but maybe, just maybe, if I refuse, someone else will be found? Surely there¡¯s another unlucky soul with the right energy, hidden somewhere even more remote than my hometown? Maybe the world will still have enough time for them to be sacrificed instead of me?


    But it is already almost too late. They gave me all the time that was possible and then some. It has to be now. And it has to be me.


    I asked Edgar. I hit my lowest point, and I asked him. Not about walking away. I asked him if I could have... an easy way out. Because I couldn¡¯t live with that choice, either. How do you live, even if only months before the end, knowing you¡¯ve doomed everyone and everything?


    He didn¡¯t need any explanations. He just said, ¡°I¡¯ll help you. If that¡¯s what you choose, I¡¯ll make it quick.¡±


    And then he added, ¡°It might be the best choice. The most merciful one.¡±


    He meant it. And for the first time since we met, I wanted to run away from him: his understanding was unbearable. And I hurt him by asking; I know I did. I saw it in his eyes, the only type of pain he still can feel. But I know he would have done it. He would''ve really done it, even if it would''ve doomed the world. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    I don''t think I deserve him. But I am so grateful he is here. I wouldn''t have survived until now without him.  And he will be there for you, too. Let him help.


    And¡­ this talk, it helped me. But I couldn''t have an easy way out, could I?


    So I¡¯m going. Of course, I am. Into Chaos, the vigil, eternity. I have no choice. I know how heroic the Saviors'' narrative seems, how we are pictured like saints, all this bullshit. It¡¯s not heroism or bravery. It¡¯s not even a sacrifice, really. Sacrifices imply choice. And I don¡¯t think I ever had one. Not really.


    I¡¯m so afraid.


    There will be so much pain.


    I don''t want to go. I don''t want to end.


    But you know what? I won''t end. I won''t die. I cannot. So it cannot be the end.


    I¡¯ve been saying ¡°you¡± this whole time, trying to distance myself. To dissociate. To accept that I¡¯m ending and you¡¯ll be someone else. Partly because it''s easier. Party because it''s true. And partly because I am so fucking jealous of you. You are on the other side of this; you have a future. I don''t.


    But... Fuck it; I refuse to accept it. It is my future. I don''t want to disappear, and I will not. You are not somebody else; you are me, and I don''t care if you believe it. I don''t care if I believe it.


    I will return. I already did, didn''t I? You, the one who reads it. You are here. You¡¯re me. I fucking survived.


    I survived. And now, I will live.


    I want anonymity. They¡¯ve crafted this ridiculous cover story, complete with doppelgangers and spy-novel nonsense, to keep me hidden if I want to be. I want. Let them; Edgar explained how the world''s attention made his recovery... challenging. So, star bless him, he made an option for all future Saviors to avoid it. Saving me, again.


    I actually used to want fame and adoration, to be important. Maybe even a celebrity, a pop star, or something. But not anymore. I guess after being *the* most important in *the* worst sense, it all just... faded away, somehow. I am not a saint holy figure, and all this Savior stuff feels like a cruel joke, exhausting and overwhelming. Screw it.


    But I do want everything else. *Everything*. I want to learn magic¡ªreal magic, healing magic. In a real posh magical academy, the type I was so obsessed about. I should be powerful now, right? And I cannot imagine them not admitting me.


    I want to travel the whole world; I want to get a dog¡ªthis golden retriever puppy I¡¯ve always dreamt about. I want to have friends, old and new. I want to keep singing and maybe learn piano; I want to finish the Rotanna Chronicles, learn to ride a motorcycle, sail across the equator, and taste every coffee in the world. The coffee is an important part.


    I want joy, laughter, new things, real adventures¡ªthe good kind, the happy kind.


    And I will. You will. We will.


    I don¡¯t care how broken or changed I am when I return. I know I don¡¯t feel like we¡¯re the same person right now¡ªyou and me¡ªbut we are. I have to believe that. Who else could you be, after all?


    I¡¯ve done everything I can. I chose my anchors, picked my memories, and explained them as best as possible. I trained until my body ached and could weave archs in my sleep. I recorded messages, even one for you¡ªfor me. Sorry for all the swearing. I couldn¡¯t bear to record it a third time. The first one was worse. I sealed it in the soul-lock, so no one else would see *that*. Only you. Only me.


    It''s time. Tomorrow, I step into Chaos. Tomorrow, I become the scapegoat, the placeholder. The one thing standing between everything I love and destruction.


    Let him take me.


    I¡¯m ready. I¡¯ve done all I can. I don''t care if it''s enough.


    It¡¯s your turn now.


    Farewell, Sasha.


    And welcome back.


    -------- End of Part 1 --------

 Interlude 1

    Interlude 1.


    Edgar. 27 years BA.


    Edgar stood before the physical manifestation of the Door, its intricate lattice of magic glowing softly, casting shifting shadows against the cold stone walls. The ritual was complete. No one else lingered here. The presence of Chaos so close was heavy and suffocating, but it wasn¡¯t just that¡ªit was the screams.


    The screams had started shortly after the ritual was complete. At first, they were faint, more felt than heard, like whispers threading through the fabric of reality. Then they grew louder, rawer, filled with a terror that clawed at the mind and frayed the soul. The screams were Sasha¡¯s. And Edgar couldn¡¯t leave.


    He knew screams would come. They always did. With all Saviors before, with him, with Alaric. It was something conveniently omitted from holy books and sermons about Saviors, but it was always there. For the first years of the vigil, at least. After that, the screams would stop¡ªand that was so much worse because it meant there was nothing left of her to even scream.


    The sound tore through him like a blade, a jagged reminder of what he had done. Sasha would endure unimaginable pain, every part of her being twisted and shattered until nothing remained of the girl who had walked through the Door. Chaos would start with the physical¡ªan approximation of a body created solely to be destroyed in every conceivable way. But that would be the easiest part, the briefest - just thousands of years - torment.


    The real pain would come when Chaos took her memories, her loves, her very sense of self, and twisted them into weapons. He would force her to destroy the light within her, piece by agonizing piece. And when there was nothing left to destroy, Chaos would begin again. Over and over, for an eternity that defied comprehension. And yet, Edgar knew it too well. He had lived it.


    His hands were clasped tightly behind his back, his nails digging into his palms. Chaos''s proximity was suffocating, familiar, even comforting in its familiarity. Edgar could hear his voice¡ªChaos, soft and intimate, weaving through his mind.


    Did you think you were free?


    Edgar¡¯s jaw tightened, his face carved in stone. He knew he should leave. He couldn¡¯t help Sasha. But walking away felt like abandoning her all over again. He didn¡¯t deserve to leave, not after what he had done.


    His mind replayed the moment she stepped into Chaos. The ritual had been stark in its simplicity. No crowds, no speeches¡ªjust the two of them and the mages who performed the final rites. Sasha had stood before the Door, impossibly small against its towering form, her trembling hands betraying the fear she had tried so hard to conceal. Memory preservation had been the final step, a delicate, painstaking process to ensure she would have something to hold onto when she returned. A dozen carefully chosen moments were stored in the enchanted device, each memory barely nothing and yet a lifeline. Edgar had watched her closely throughout the process, searching for signs of hesitation, of regret. But she held firm. He wanted to say something¡ªanything¡ªto ease the weight she carried, at least for a moment, but it was impossible. All he could offer her was the truth. ¡°Goodbye, daughter,¡± he whispered, the words slipping from his lips before he could process them.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Her eyes widened slightly, and then, she smiled. It was faint and fragile, but it held a strange kind of peace. Her hand brushed the memory device subtly, capturing the words, the look in his eyes, the weight of his love. Edgar hadn¡¯t noticed then, too consumed by the enormity of what was happening, but now his mind replayed it, fixating on each small detail. Did she manage to save it? He wasn¡¯t sure if he wanted her to.


    And then she was gone.


    The screams grew louder, raw and jagged, before subsiding again into an eerie quiet. Edgar closed his eyes, the sound clawing at the edges of his mind. His nails had left bloodied crescent-shaped imprints on his palms. He didn''t feel the pain.


    He had been through this before. But not like this.


    Alaric had been different¡ªstoic and pragmatic, a man of forty-nine who had faced the impossible with resolve forged from a lifetime of experience. Their bond had been one of mutual respect, built on camaraderie and duty. Losing Alaric had been devastating, but it had been a professional grief, the loss of a comrade in arms.


    Sasha was not Alaric. She was young, so young. Too young. Bright and kind and achingly alive. She faced her fate with a quiet determination that humbled and shattered him. She had trusted him, relied on him¡ªnot the legend, not the leader, but him. And by this, she gave him something he didn¡¯t know he could feel again, something beyond duty and the burning need to preserve what Chaos hadn¡¯t destroyed. She gave him a reason to care. To love.


    He thought of her final months¡ªthe way her face lit up when she saw the sea for the first time, the way she laughed when she petted that enormous alpaca, her awe at the simplest magic, her pleasure at good coffee. She had found joy in the smallest things, even in the shadow of her destiny. She had made him laugh, truly laugh, more in those months than he had in decades.


    He had survived the unimaginable. He had endured centuries, millennia, eons of suffering on the other side of that Door. And yet, this moment, now, was the hardest thing he had ever faced.


    Because he loved her, loved her as the daughter he never had. And he had sent her to an eternity of suffering.


    The thought of self-annihilation whispered to him, as it always did. It was a constant presence, a quiet hum at the edge of his thoughts, the scar left by his own vigil. It would be so easy to let go, to finally let go, to follow her into the void, to end the unbearable weight of grief and guilt.


    Didn¡¯t you have enough? Chaos whispered in his mind.


    But he couldn¡¯t. Not yet. Because Sasha would return. And when she did, she would need him.


    Edgar opened his eyes, his gaze fixed on the Door. He couldn¡¯t save her now. He couldn¡¯t shield her from Chaos. But he could ensure that when she returned¡ªbroken, scarred, and remade¡ªshe wouldn¡¯t be alone.


    The screams faded into silence, for now. Hours had passed since the ritual. Several millennia for her. At this point, she probably already forgot that he ever existed. That the world she gave everything to protect ever existed.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be here,¡± he whispered into the empty chamber. ¡°When you come back, I¡¯ll be here.¡±


    He turned, his steps heavy, and walked away from the Door. For her, he would endure. For her, he would fight. For her, he would live.

 Interlude 2

    Interlude 2.


    Edgar. 27 years BA.


    The snow clung to Rovalia¡¯s narrow streets, muting the world into a silence that felt both reverent and suffocating. Edgar Millers adjusted his coat, its heavy fabric gleaming faintly under the blue-white glow of Vigil Dawn candles flickering in every window. The world celebrated the beginning of the new Savior''s vigil - Sasha''s vigil - the festival of gratitude, reverence, condolence - and relief.


    Relief was the last thing Edgar felt these days.


    The cold bit sharply with each breath, but Edgar welcomed it. Rovalia smelled of wood smoke, frost, and the faint tang of iron from the nearby mines¡ªa scent that settled deep in his lungs, grounding him.


    He stopped in front of the Irvings¡¯ modest house, a weathered but resilient structure whose faded yellow paint testified to years of enduring northern winters.


    He hesitated.


    Not from fear; Chaos had stripped the last remnants of that from him eons ago. But this was different. Edgar had delivered speeches to billions, faced the world''s collective reverence, and borne the weight of its gratitude. Yet standing before this door, knowing what he would bring to the family inside, felt heavy. He had seen their faces in the ACC dossiers¡ªEkaterina, Robert, Ilya, Maria, little Kostya. But dossiers couldn¡¯t prepare him for the weight of breaking their lives.


    Edgar knocked.


    Inside, muffled voices fell silent. There was the scrape of a chair and footsteps. The door opened to reveal Ilya, taller and sturdier than Edgar had imagined. His features bore the unmistakable echo of Sasha''s, but his expression lacked her warmth.


    ¡°Holy Sav..., stars,¡± Ilya whispered, his voice hollow. ¡°...Edgar.¡±


    Behind him, Ekaterina appeared, clutching a towel in her hands. Her grey eyes¡ªSasha¡¯s eyes¡ªwidened as recognition dawned. Her breath hitched audibly, and she swayed, gripping the doorframe for support. ¡°No,¡± she murmured, her voice cracking. ¡°No, no, no.¡±


    ¡°May I come in?¡± Edgar asked, his voice steady but quiet. He wasn¡¯t really asking.


    Robert stepped into view, his broad frame filling the hallway. His face darkened, lines of confusion and dread carving deeper into his features. ¡°Who¡¯s¡ª¡± His words faltered as his gaze locked on Edgar. The disbelief in his eyes quickly gave way to something far heavier.


    For a moment, no one moved. Ekaterina¡¯s knuckles whitened around the towel.


    ¡°Please,¡± Edgar said gently. ¡°We need to talk.¡±


    The living room was warm, almost stifling, the air thick with the scent of roasted potatoes and wood smoke. Edgar realized with surprise that the Irvings still used firewood for heating. Framed photos lined the walls¡ªSasha¡¯s face was in nearly all of them, radiant and unguarded in ways Edgar had never seen. The sight hit him harder than he anticipated.


    Maria entered, carrying Kostya on her hip. The boy clutched a plush toy, his wide eyes darting to Edgar with curiosity. Maria held him closer, her expression shifting from confusion to alarm as she registered who stood in the living room.


    Robert gestured stiffly toward a chair. ¡°Sit,¡± he said, his voice tight. "Please."


    Edgar lowered himself into the seat, his hands resting lightly on his knees. He let the silence stretch, giving them time to process his presence. Their gazes flickered between him and each other, the weight of unspoken understanding thick in the room.


    Finally, Ekaterina spoke, her voice trembling. ¡°It¡¯s Sasha, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Edgar nodded. ¡°Yes.¡±


    Her knees buckled, and she sank into a chair, her hand clutching her chest. ¡°She¡¯s just a child,¡± she whispered. ¡°She¡¯s only eighteen.¡± Eighteen. You sent a child to¡ª¡± Her voice broke, and she pressed her hands to her face.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°She was,¡± Edgar said softly. The past tense felt like a betrayal, but it was the truth.


    -------


    He explained carefully and deliberately how Sasha had been identified as the only suitable candidate. Her soul¡¯s rare energy was the world¡¯s last chance to keep the Door sealed.


    ¡°We searched for years,¡± he said. ¡°Every possible candidate across every corner of the globe. Sasha was the only one. She understood it. She was... extraordinary¡± - his voice trembled.


    Ekaterina was crying now, her tears falling freely. Robert¡¯s fists clenched. ¡°She¡¯s suffering,¡± he said, his voice low and furious. ¡°Because the world couldn¡¯t find anyone else? Because you failed?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not just suffering,¡± Ilya spat, his voice raw with anger. ¡°She¡¯s dying. Over and over, isn¡¯t she? That¡¯s what Chaos does.¡±


    Edgar didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°Yes.¡± And worse, he thought.


    He let their anger in. He deserved it, every bit of it. Yet, he would''ve made the same choice again.


    Maria¡¯s soft sob broke the silence. Kostya wriggled in her arms, sensing her distress but unable to understand.


    Ilya turned on Edgar, his voice cracking. ¡°And you let it happen? You¡¯re supposed to be the hero! Why didn¡¯t you¡ª¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t,¡± Edgar said firmly, cutting him off. ¡°If there had been another way, I would have taken it.¡± He paused, his voice tightening. ¡°If I could trade places with her, I would.¡±


    Would he? The old, familiar doubt echoed in his mind. He wanted to believe he would, but he was grateful he would never know¡ªand hated himself for it.


    Ilya froze, his fists trembling at his sides, his shoulders heaving with barely contained grief.


    Maria¡¯s grip on Kostya tightened, her face pale. ¡°Why didn¡¯t she tell us?


    You people didn¡¯t allow her, did you?¡± Ilya snapped.


    Robert¡¯s voice was bitter as he added, slower, ¡°We¡¯re her family. We should¡¯ve been there for her.¡±


    ¡°She chose not to,¡± Edgar said gently. ¡°She wanted to protect you. Saying goodbye¡ªexplaining what was coming¡ªwould have been unbearable. For her and for you.¡± He reached into his coat, pulling out a small arch-tech device. ¡°She recorded messages for each of you.¡±


    Ekaterina reached for it, her hands trembling so much that Robert had to steady her. She clutched it to her chest, her sobs muffled against the fabric of her sweater.


    -------


    Dinner was served in heavy silence. Edgar wanted to refuse, but something in Ekaterina''s eyes told him she needed this moment of normalcy. The stew was simple but warm, paired with thick slices of rye bread. Edgar ate quietly, his movements careful and measured, conscious of every glance cast his way. The spoon was too shallow, not really fitting the soup so hearty. Still, the food''s warmth grounded him more than he expected. Robert watched him closely, apprehension and sorrow warring in his eyes.


    ¡°This probably isn¡¯t what you¡¯re used to,¡± Robert said gruffly.


    ¡°No,¡± Edgar admitted, setting his spoon down. ¡°It¡¯s better.¡±


    The sincerity of his answer seemed to disarm Robert, who glanced away, his expression conflicted.


    Kostya smiled at Edgar, wide and innocent, between his mother''s attempt to feed him. Edgar was reminded of his grand-nephews who had all grown up now. He smiled back. The boy inherited the family''s magical talent; he could feel it. He made a mental note to ensure he would receive an education. Sasha would''ve wanted it.


    As the meal wore on, Edgar shared glimpses of Sasha¡¯s final months¡ªher awe and talent at finally learning magic, her struggles with anything combat-related, the petting zoo on her birthday, her first time seeing the sea, her laughter with the cadets. He passed around his favorite photo of her, with that enormous alpaca, her smile wide and almost carefree. Ekaterina squeezed the photo tightly and let out a broken laugh, tears streaming down her face.


    ¡°She found joy where she could,¡± Edgar said softly. ¡°She wanted you to know that.¡±


    -------


    Before leaving, Edgar addressed the crucial matter. ¡°Her identity as the Savior must remain a secret. At least until she decides otherwise.¡±


    Ekaterina¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°She¡¯ll decide? After?¡±


    Edgar nodded. ¡°When she¡¯s ready.¡± If she ever is, he didn¡¯t add.


    ¡°When she returns,¡± Edgar continued, ¡°she''ll be... shattered. She won¡¯t remember you, or herself, or anything but Chaos. He will strip everything away. But we¡¯ve preserved some memories, fragments that might help her hold on¡ªmemories of you, of her love so that you would anchor her back to life.¡±


    He explained how they would protect the family, ensuring their safety and support. Although the promises felt hollow, insulting even, Edgar pressed on. He didn''t really care how they felt about it; he wouldn¡¯t let Martha¡¯s tragedy repeat.


    ¡°Your suffering won¡¯t help her,¡± he said bluntly. ¡°But you living¡ªand thriving¡ªbeing here for her when she returns¡ªwill.¡±


    As Edgar stood to leave, the family gathered by the door, their grief a palpable weight.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Ekaterina said, her voice trembling but sincere, her eyes¡ªSasha¡¯s eyes¡ªlocking with his. ¡°For being there. For her.¡±


    ¡°It was my honor,¡± Edgar replied softly.


    He looked back at Sasha''s family, committing each face to memory. He knew that the Irvings didn''t forgive him¡ªmaybe they never would¡ªbut they understood. That fragile understanding would be enough to carry them through the years to come. It was the only thing that mattered.


    As he stepped out into the cold, the flicker of Vigil Dawn candles followed him, their light steady against the darkness until his frame disappeared into the night.

 Interlude 3

    Interlude 3.


    Edgar. 27 years BA.


    The waves crashing against the cliffs below Edgar¡¯s seaside mansion filled the room''s silence, a steady reminder of the world¡¯s persistence. Standing by the tall window, he let his gaze drift over the horizon. The water stretched endlessly, its vastness somehow comforting. The sea was the only thing that seemed unaffected by what he had done.


    Sasha was gone. And Edgar had just returned from facing the shattered lives she had left behind¡ªher family, her friends. Ekaterina¡¯s trembling hands clutched the memory device as if it were all that was left of her daughter - and in a way, it was. Alex, holding herself together with steel determination, ready to wait decades for her best friend¡¯s return. And Stanis, confused, hollow-eyed, unsure what to make of a connection that Sasha herself had erased to spare him.


    He had tried to offer them hope, to tell them she¡¯d return and that she could survive. But deep down, Edgar knew that even if Sasha survived, she was also gone. He had faced Chaos and knew his truth: Chaos didn¡¯t just destroy¡ªhe devoured, leaving behind nothing but himself.


    A knock on the door drew him back to the present.


    ¡°Come in,¡± Edgar called.


    The door opened, and Yonas Evergreen entered. Edgar felt his chest tighten¡ªbut this time, not with grief: he was simply glad to see an old friend.


    ¡°Yonas,¡± Edgar said, crossing the room to embrace the visitor. ¡°It¡¯s been too long.¡±


    Yonas offered a faint smile, but his eyes were shadowed. He looked smaller somehow, his military uniform hanging a little looser, the silver insignia dulled. This was not the man Edgar remembered¡ªthe sharp, steadfast leader who had stood beside him through countless crises.


    ¡°It has,¡± Yonas agreed, though his tone lacked conviction.


    ¡°Sit,¡± Edgar said, motioning to the armchairs by the fire. He poured two glasses of whiskey and handed one to his guest before sitting opposite. ¡°You look like you need it.¡±


    ¡°I think we both do,¡± Yonas replied as he lowered himself into a chair, taking the glass.


    Yonas Evergreen had been Edgar¡¯s closest friend for decades. He had joined the ACC as a fresh recruit nearly 60 years ago, around the time Edgar had finally recovered enough to resume his mission of safeguarding future Saviors and resisting Chaos in every way possible. Over time, Yonas proved himself a gifted leader, and together, he and Edgar rebuilt the Anti-Chaos Coalition from the ground up. They reshaped its strategies, redefined its priorities, overhauled its training regimens, and established its political stance and international autonomy. While Yonas, as head of the ACC¡¯s military branch, took charge of action on the ground, Edgar served as the Coalition¡¯s figurehead¡ªa living legend, a Savior, a political force to be reckoned with, and, at times, a direct, undeniable threat to those in power. Together, they had averted countless disasters, turned the tide against Chaos, and brought the world closer to safety than it had been in centuries.


    But Yonas¡¯s greatest pride had always been his family. After decades of trying, he and his wife had been blessed with Victor, their miracle child. Edgar had watched the boy grow into a gentle, brilliant young man, more interested in studying the past than shaping the future. He had chosen the quiet life of a magical historian, far removed from the battles that had defined his father¡¯s career. Edgar hadn¡¯t seen Victor in years, not since he had drifted away into his research.


    ¡°How¡¯s Victor?¡± Edgar asked, his voice casual. ¡°Still chasing ruins and artifacts?¡±


    Yonas tensed, his grip tightening around his glass. ¡°Yes,¡± he said quietly. ¡°He¡¯s¡­ doing well.¡±


    Something in Yonas¡¯s tone made Edgar pause. He tilted his head, studying his friend. ¡°Yonas, what¡¯s wrong?¡±


    Yonas swirled the whiskey in his glass, his gaze fixed on the fire. ¡°This past year,¡± he began slowly, ¡°it¡¯s been unlike anything we¡¯ve faced. The eruptions, the search for a Savior, Alexandra¡­¡± His voice trailed off, and he took a deep breath. ¡°It¡¯s made me think about the choices we¡¯ve had to make.¡±


    Edgar frowned, his instincts stirring. ¡°We did what we had to,¡± he said carefully. ¡°There was no other way.¡±


    Yonas set his glass down, his hands trembling. ¡°Victor¡¯s soul was suitable.¡±This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Edgar blinked, his mind struggling to process the words. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°When the tests were conducted,¡± Yonas continued, his voice barely above a whisper, ¡°Victor¡¯s soul matched. He could have been the Savior. - he paused - He should have been the Savior."


    ¡°He didn¡¯t know,¡± Yonas added quickly, his voice breaking. ¡°Victor had no idea. I couldn¡¯t¡ªhe couldn¡¯t have lived with that knowledge.¡±


    The glass in Edgar¡¯s hand shattered with a sharp crack, shards flying across the room. Whiskey dripped from his fingers, mingling with blood from the deep gash across his palm. Yonas flinched¡ªbut Edgar, of course, didn¡¯t so much as glance at the wound. It couldn''t truly hurt.


    ¡°You hid it,¡± Edgar said, his voice cold, trembling with restrained fury. "You hid him".


    Victor had been absent for years, always someplace far away, always mentioned in passing. Now, the pieces fit. Yonas had kept him hidden¡ª from Edgar, specifically, from his best friend and his soul vision.


    From the person who would''ve sent him to Chaos.


    Yonas nodded, his face pale. ¡°I falsified the results. I used my position to bury the truth. I couldn¡¯t¡ªI couldn¡¯t let it happen, Edgar. Not to him.¡±


    Edgar rose to his feet, his hands trembling. ¡°Do you understand what you¡¯ve done?¡± he asked, his voice rising. ¡°You let a child take his place. Sasha just turned eighteen, Yonas. Eighteen. She barely had time to live, let alone train for what was coming. Victor is thirty-five. He is trained. Experienced. Prepared.¡±


    ¡°She was a stranger to me,¡± Yonas said, his voice breaking. ¡°Victor is my son.¡±


    ¡°She was my daughter,¡± Edgar shot back, his voice cracking. ¡°She was my daughter in every way that mattered.¡±


    ¡°You knew her eight months!¡± Yonas¡¯s whisper came out raw, almost pleading.


    Edgar froze. Eight months. He thought of her sharp, unrestrained laughter as she argued with cadets over whether ¡°hitting the sky¡± should count as a score. How she sang for them on long evenings when Ron brought out his guitar, everyone huddled around the enchanted fire¡ª¡°are we mages or what?¡±¡ªand the officers pretended not to notice. How the cadets would sneak her desserts, thinking no one saw. Her determination in combat training, cursing him under her breath with mock-seriousness when he pushed her too hard, only to freeze at first, realizing she¡¯d just told off the Edgar, Himself¡ªand later cursing anyway. The way her hands had trembled the first time she managed a shielding spell, steadying only when she caught his approving nod. Eight months. It wasn¡¯t long¡ªnot in the way it should have been.


    ¡°And it was enough,¡± Edgar said coldly.


    The words seemed to pierce Yonas. He hunched over slightly, gripping his knees as if steadying himself.


    Edgar¡¯s voice hardened. ¡°It wasn¡¯t just Sasha. You know better than anyone what finding her cost us, the resources we poured into the search. These millions could have gone to people who still live¡ªwho are hungry, who need medical care, who don¡¯t have schools to send their children to. Do you even care?¡±


    Yonas flinched as if struck, his face a mask of anguish.


    ¡°And what about Carin Novak? Marcus Iseki? Nisha Verma? Harun Abbas? Tati Voronova? Edgar¡¯s voice trembled as he listed the names, his fury mounting with each one. "Five of our people¡ªyour soldiers¡ªare dead because of your decision, dead because they believed they were holding the line for a Savior you¡¯d already hidden!¡± Edgar¡¯s voice shook with fury. With each name, Yonas flinched. His hand tightened around the glass until it trembled, but he didn¡¯t interrupt. By the time Edgar finished, Yonas¡¯s gaze had dropped to the floor, his shoulders curling inward.


    Edgar added, softer: ¡°They didn¡¯t have to die, Yonas. They didn''t..."


    Yonas swallowed hard, his face crumpling. ¡°I prayed someone else would be found,¡± he whispered. ¡°I prayed it wouldn¡¯t come to this.¡±


    ¡°Who else? You knew they would be young! You knew we would search in universities and colleges,¡± Edgar almost hissed, his bloodied hand trembling as if the shards of glass still cut into his skin.¡°What did you expect? - he paused, his voice low - "You let her do it. You condemned a child to an eternity of torment because you couldn¡¯t bear to lose him.¡±


    Yonas¡¯s hands shook visibly. ¡°I know,¡± he said. ¡°I know what I¡¯ve done. I¡¯m not asking for forgiveness, Edgar. I don¡¯t deserve it. But I had to tell you. I couldn¡¯t carry it alone anymore.¡±


    Edgar stared at him, his chest tight. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have told me,¡± he said bitterly. ¡°You think sharing this makes it better? All you¡¯ve done is make it worse. For me. For her.¡±


    Yonas¡¯s voice broke as he replied. ¡°I couldn¡¯t¡­ it was crushing me, Edgar. I¡¯m not as strong as you.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Edgar said flatly. ¡°You¡¯re not.¡±


    Yonas stood to leave, but the movement seemed to drain what little strength he had left. His hand lingered on the doorframe, his knuckles white against the dark wood. For a moment, he swayed, his head bowed slightly as if the weight of it all was too much to bear. He seemed smaller now, his silhouette sagging in the firelight, no longer the sharp, indomitable leader Edgar had relied on for decades.


    A flicker of unease passed through Edgar. He leaned forward, his lips parting as though to speak, but the moment slipped away. Yonas straightened slowly, a mechanical effort, and stepped into the hallway.


    ¡°For what it¡¯s worth¡­ I¡¯m sorry,¡± Yonas said, his voice quiet and hollow.


    When the door clicked shut behind him, Edgar remained frozen for a long moment, staring into the fire. The flames flickered, consuming everything in their path, leaving only ash behind. Chaos, he thought bitterly, wasn¡¯t the only one who destroyed. His hand, already healed by unconscious magic, curled into a fist.


    Yonas had protected his son. Edgar had sent the girl he loved as a daughter to hell. And as the waves crashed against the cliffs outside, he wondered which of them had truly betrayed the child they loved ¡ªor had either of them ever truly been worthy of that love.


    They never talked again. Yonas died two years later. Edgar suspected it was by his own hand, but he never knew.

 Part 2. Chapter 1

    Part 2.


    Chapter 1


    Sasha. 5 years BA.


    ACC Serenia research facility at the Door.


    Pain¡­ stopped.


    Chaos has done this before, of course. He has to. If he never lets me remember that pain can stop, his favorite tortures lose their edge. He keeps just enough of that memory alive¡ªfaint, fragile¡ªso he can rip it away.


    But this time, it lingers.


    It¡¯s strange. Chaos must¡¯ve prepared something new. Something special. He always does. No matter. I am not in pain. I let myself feel it, etch it into the deepest corners of my essence. Moments without pain are rare. I will remember this as long as I can, before Chaos tears it apart from me. And then some.


    It lingers still. Too long.


    Where is he? He is always here. Chaos is here. His presence alone hurts. He presses into every edge of me¡ªbreaks, suffocates, fills. But now? Nothing.


    That has never happened before.


    Could he¡ª?


    I try to destroy myself.


    Of course, it doesn¡¯t work. It never does. Chaos never allows it. He hates me too much to let me annihilate. He will break me, rend me apart into dust, but he never lets me disappear completely. He always leaves enough to rebuild, enough to suffer.


    But this¡­ this feels different. It¡¯s not the same impenetrable wall that halts me every time I try. It¡¯s¡ª


    A net.


    Energy wraps around me and holds me in place. I feel it, intricately woven, tethered to my essence.


    This is an illusory reality, then. Of course.


    Here, I have a body. Chaos used to love these games¡ªgive me a body, make me fight, make me tear myself apart. I thought he¡¯d grown bored of the ones with bodies long ago. Apparently not.


    The net binds my will and my ability to shape energy. I see his constructs. Shapes in the space around me. Watching. Waiting. They are stronger than most I¡¯ve fought. More solid. The space itself is intricate; matter and energy connected and woven in impossible patterns.


    Chaos outdid himself this time.


    I try to break free. I pull at the net, wrenching against the fibers, though it scrapes against my very essence. Pain flares, sharp and precise. It hurts, but that¡¯s familiar. Pain is known. I know what to do with pain. I fight harder.


    The net trembles. I am stronger. I will tear this illusion apart. Maybe I can stop it before he make the move this time. I almost¡ª


    And then¡ª


    Visions flood in.


    ----


    A stage. Warm lights. I sing. Applause crashing like waves. Faces in the dark, cheering. My parents¡¯ voices whispering pride into my ears.


    What is this?


    ----


    Laughter. A girl¡ªher eyes bright, her arms tight around me. Her voice rings out, so clear it stings.


    ¡°Let¡¯s share the name. I¡¯ll be Alex, and you¡ªSasha!¡±


    ----


    A dog presses into me. Its warmth soaks into my skin, its eyes locked on mine with absolute trust. I feel¡­ something. Not pain. Something stronger.


    It slips away before I can name it.


    ----


    A ball of light sits in my hands¡ªticking, alive. Magic. I made it. Despite everything, I have magic. I smile.


    ----


    The visions rip through me, one after another. A house. Faces. Laughter. Cup of coffee. A sunset. A vast sea. Edgar.


    That doesn¡¯t make sense. Nothing makes sense. These things cannot exist. They don¡¯t.


    I try to pull away, to shove these images out of me. Whatever Chaos wants to do here, I should stop it before it fully transpires. It won''t hurt that much then.


    But I can¡¯t stop them. Of course, I cannot. I never can stop him. I keep trying though. Always.


    But now, I don¡¯t want to.


    Again. After an eternity of his traps, I fall for it again. Will I ever learn?Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    The images hurt. Not like Chaos. They are wrong. They cannot exist. Nothing but pain and Chaos exists. Nothing.


    What is this? What am I seeing?


    The net tightens. My body¡ªthis body¡ªshudders. I¡¯ve stopped fighting. The visions splinter my focus, shaking something loose inside me. I don''t want to fight.


    I see one of the constructs move. It¡­ reaches for me. Its energy presses close, brushing against me. It doesn¡¯t hurt.


    It doesn¡¯t burn.


    It doesn¡¯t destroy.


    It feels like¡­ nothing.


    No pain. No Chaos. Just nothing.


    The net slackens, and the darkness presses in. It¡¯s heavy, pulling at me. I brace myself for the return of torment, but it doesn¡¯t come.


    The world drags me under. My edges blur. My thoughts slow.


    This¡­ feels like losing awareness. That¡¯s weird. Chaos doesn¡¯t let me lose awareness. Sometimes, he pushes too far, and my mind fractures enough that I slip into the dark, and only pain remains. I cling to these moments. It¡¯s easier then. He never allows it to linger.


    But this is different. There¡¯s no pain. How can there be no pain for so long?


    Could I have done it? Could this finally be¡ª?


    Oblivion.


    Maybe this is how it feels.


    I let it take me.


    ----------


    Alex. 5 years BA.


    ACC Serenia research facility at the Door.


    It wasn¡¯t necessary for Alex to be here. Edgar had said so, repeatedly. ¡°Sasha won¡¯t know you¡¯re here. She won¡¯t understand anything.¡± But Alex had insisted.


    She¡¯d waited for 22 years¡ªthrough Sasha¡¯s disappearance, Edgar¡¯s grim visit to tell her about her friend¡¯s fate, and the long years when hope felt more like a wound than a comfort. She¡¯d been useless back then. Now, at forty, a wife, a mother, and a doctor trained to face emergencies most wouldn¡¯t survive, Alex couldn¡¯t let herself be useless again.


    And so, Edgar let her come. Reluctantly.


    She thought she was prepared. For the ritual, for the magic. For the return of her best friend. But she wasn¡¯t.


    Alex stood at the edge of the platform alongside other medics. Her stomach twisted into knots she refused to acknowledge. The energy in the chamber pulsed around her, heavy and alive, thick enough that even she could feel it, though magic had never been hers to wield. It vibrated in her chest, climbing through her veins. It felt wrong, tainted.


    Then, it happened.


    A glow appeared on the platform¡ªsoft at first, then blinding. A human shape, its edges blurring, dissolving into light. For one terrible moment, Alex¡¯s mind latched onto a single thought. She¡¯s leaving. Self-annihilation. All stories about Saviors¡ªexcept Edgar¡ªended with glowing bodies dissolving into stardust.


    Please no. Not her. Not Sasha.


    Edgar¡¯s voice rang out, commanding and steady, barking orders to mages in words Alex couldn¡¯t understand. Magic flared¡ªbright, raw, visceral. To Alex, it looked like war. A violent tug-and-pull of energy, surging in time with Edgar¡¯s gestures, his entire frame rigid with focus. She couldn¡¯t understand what was happening, couldn¡¯t really see, but she felt it, every thrum and pull of power rattling her bones.


    It lasted only minutes. It felt like forever.


    And then, the glow faded.


    The thing that remained wasn¡¯t Sasha.


    It was a body. Skinless. Raw and exposed, like something torn violently from its shell. Blood pooled beneath it, and for the first time in her career, Alex¡¯s hands trembled. She¡¯d seen burn victims, trauma patients, people torn apart by accidents and magic gone wrong¡ªbut this was worse. Inhuman.


    She moved before she realized it, instincts screaming at her to act. An IV¡ªpain meds¡ªhealer¡ªsomething. But Edgar stopped her.


    ¡°Stay back.¡± Medics around her exchanged glances, but no one moved, following orders.


    Then, to Alex¡¯s disbelief, Edgar simply approached Sasha. He knelt beside the flayed body, ignoring the gore that soaked through his uniform as he lifted her into his arms; blood dripped from his sleeves. He held her, his embrace careful, gentle. He whispered words Alex couldn¡¯t hear and cast a spell¡ªa soft, barely visible glow.


    The figure in Edgar¡¯s arms sagged like a marionette with its strings cut.


    ¡°She sleeps now,¡± Edgar said, voice rough with exhaustion. ¡°That¡¯s good.¡± He laid Sasha¡¯s body onto a suspended magic bed, her ruined frame hanging weightlessly in the air. Edgar¡¯s movements were slow now, careful. He was in no hurry anymore.


    Alex broke then. ¡°Good? Edgar, she¡¯s dying! She¡¯s in pain shock!¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he replied, his gaze sharp and unrelenting as it met hers. She stared at him, unable to comprehend his calm. He looked tired. Sweat beaded at his temple, his usually immaculate coat was stained with streaks of blood and gore, but his voice¡ªhis eyes¡ªremained steady. Relieved, even.


    ¡°She isn¡¯t.¡± He gestured toward Sasha¡¯s ruined form. ¡°This? She doesn¡¯t even feel it. It¡¯s not for her. It¡¯s for you.¡±


    Alex froze.


    ¡°A reminder,¡± Edgar continued, his voice low, lined with something so cold it almost shook her. ¡°A postcard from Chaos.¡±


    His words hit like a slap. She saw the flicker of hatred in his eyes¡ªraw and undiluted. Not toward her or Sasha, but something far beyond her understanding. Chaos.


    ¡°Her body will heal itself,¡± Edgar explained, his tone quieter now. ¡°She¡¯s powerful. Far more than I anticipated.¡± A shadow flickered across his expression¡ªworry? Fear? Alex couldn¡¯t tell.


    She didn¡¯t care. She could only focus on the dark patterns of blood streaked across Edgar¡¯s uniform. Sasha''s blood still dripped from his sleeve.


    Alex didn¡¯t know how long she stood there, staring at Sasha¡¯s still form as they took her away. It wasn¡¯t the injuries that chilled her¡ªthough they were beyond anything she¡¯d seen. It wasn¡¯t even Edgar¡¯s callous dismissal of pain.


    It was his certainty. ¡°She doesn¡¯t even feel it.¡±


    At that moment, Alex realized the truth Edgar had tried to tell her, tell all of them, over and over again. The Sasha they knew¡ªthe girl who made so many stupid jokes, who dreamed of studying magic, who drank far too much coffee¡ªwas gone.


    Whatever remained now, whatever came back, was beyond her. Beyond anyone. Beyond human.


    Edgar hadn¡¯t lied. He¡¯d warned her. You won¡¯t understand. You can¡¯t.


    And he was right.


    Alex thought she¡¯d come to help. To anchor Sasha. But the truth hit her like ice: whatever Sasha had endured in Chaos was too terrible to fathom, and the person who had returned¡ªwho survived¡ªwas someone she might never reach, no matter how she tried.


    A stranger.


    A Savior.

 Chapter 12

    Sasha


    5 years BA.


    ACC Serenia research facility at the Door.


    I followed Edgar into yet another room¡ªhow many rooms did this place even have? My body felt heavy, as if the meal inside turned into lead, but my arms wouldn¡¯t stop trembling.


    (I hurt Chan. I caused pain.)


    Edgar spoke of ¡°beating Chaos,¡± but the idea was absurd. Chaos was everything¡ªomnipotent, or close enough¡ªnothing could truly defeat him. Yet this entire world (if it was real; you know it¡¯s not) existed in brazen opposition to him. Edgar claimed that existence itself was a victory, something I had apparently helped make possible¡ªand could share in¡ª


    (No. Don¡¯t think about that.)


    He also insisted we remove the fail-safes, but I couldn¡¯t see why.


    After everything I¡¯d done¡ªhurting Chan, nearly destroying an entire room and who knew how many devices¡ªwhy would anyone trust me? Why offer to unleash my power? Surely they must be tired of wasting all these resources on me by now. I still couldn¡¯t fathom why they bothered at all.


    Maybe Edgar wanted me fully untethered so he could order me to self-annihilate and end this. But if that was the plan, why did they fight so hard to stop me before? Or maybe they¡¯d finally had enough. Yet if that were true, why surrender control? Right now, the nets gave Edgar power over me. Removing them made no sense.


    We sat at a table while Edgar explained the workings of the net. I already understood most of it, but some layers had stayed hidden. Only he could open them¡ªthough the final sequence required both of us tugging at tiny knots simultaneously. Half the weave drew on my own power, which made it especially hard to break: it latched onto my essence, reinforcing itself with my strength.


    But how?


    I stared at the patterns, baffled. There was no way they could have accomplished this without my¡­ participation, right?


    Even Chaos, in all his eons of tearing me apart, never managed to shape my essence. He could destroy me or force me to change it in certain ways myself, but he didn¡¯t own it. So either these humans had a power he lacked, or¡­


    I had made it.


    Helped to make it, in fact.


    I had no memory of that, but it wasn¡¯t surprising. Memory was always the first thing Chaos shredded when he finished a cycle. Over time, I¡¯d developed countless strategies to preserve scraps of knowledge, yet he always found a way to break me back down to nothing. Even if I¡¯d gotten better at hanging on to certain facts, forgetting was expected.


    Yet the implications were staggering.


    I had mapped my essence over millennia¡ªpartly as a distraction from the pain. I¡¯d noticed these odd hooks and knots before, dismissed them as ¡°just more pieces of me.¡± But now, I saw they¡¯d been shaped on purpose. Once I returned, they meshed seamlessly with Edgar¡¯s external spell.


    It all fit too perfectly.


    It was planned, and it means...


    (this cannot be)


    Another surprise¡ªmy own contribution to the net looked sloppy. Uneven threads, jagged corners, misaligned flows. So weak. I could have done far better without effort, even amid intense torment. I¡¯d crafted infinitely more precise spells countless times.


    This was¡­ subpar.


    (how could it be my work and yet...)


    And yet it was unbelievably intricate in a small, fiddly way¡ªso many tiny details, each one deliberate, each placed with that curious human precision I never thought I possessed.


    Edgar watched me, his expression thick with feelings I couldn¡¯t decipher. His voice dropped quietly.


    ¡°You had no formal magic training when we found you,¡± he said.


    (Why was he telling me this? That person wasn¡¯t me.)


    ¡°You were talented, strong, but you barely knew more than a single arc. You wanted to study magic so badly¡ªyou loved it. But you couldn¡¯t afford an academy. Not enough¡­ resources, money. Then¡­¡±


    His words trailed off. We both knew the rest.


    This person¡¯s soul had met the criteria for the ¡®Savior.¡¯


    I tried to picture that girl¡ªa real human named Sasha.


    Chaos would¡¯ve relished devouring her mind and soul, erasing her until only this husk remained.


    Me.


    And for the first time, I wondered:


    Who was she?..


    Edgar kept talking, but I tuned back in only when he said, ¡°They¡¯re here¡ªyour family. Older now, but waiting. You even have¡­ a surprise.¡± He gave a faint smile, a sadness edging its warmth.


    My chest clenched. For a second, the world threatened to skew again¡ªlike before, but milder. I inhaled, pushing air in and out, surprised at how it steadied me. (When did breathing become so effective?)


    Edgar must have noticed, because he didn¡¯t say more about them.


    We were still unraveling sections of the net when Chan arrived. She carried drinks¡ªmine was white and warm, called ¡°milk.¡± I couldn¡¯t understand why she was still kind to me after I¡¯d hurt her, but I sipped it anyway.


    It was¡­ profoundly good.


    Edgar went back to demonstrating how each knot interacted. Progress was slow; we had to release them in a precise order.


    I couldn¡¯t believe how weak yet intricate human magic was¡ªtiny puzzle pieces, each faint on its own, woven into a massive structure. In contrast, my spells had spanned higher dimensions, unwound time-space, annihilated matter and antimatter. They were big. Efficient.


    This was different.


    Countless minuscule knots forming a tapestry so complex, I couldn¡¯t grasp it.


    Chaos would have hated this.


    Part of me wanted to replicate it¡ªto see if I could make something this intricate myself. (find a new way to enrage him)


    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ incredible at magic, Sasha,¡± Chan said gently.


    I had no idea why she thought that. Compared to all this intricate human spellwork, I was just a brute... and Chan, she could link minds, build telepathic bridges. I had no idea how to even approach such a feat.


    I stayed silent, unsure what she wanted me to say.


    Eventually, we finished dismantling the net.


    Edgar looked exhausted¡ªI was tired too¡ªbut his eyes gleamed with some deep emotion. He let out a faint laugh. ¡°Really well done, Sasha!¡± (What does he mean? He did most of it.) Then he added, ¡°If anyone had told me we¡¯d deconstruct a five-dimensional matrix with type-seventeen soul references, two-caster dependent, in three hours, I¡¯d have called them crazy.¡± He exhaled. ¡°It took us a month to build that¡ªsix hours a day, for a month.¡±


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    A month?


    They invested a month just to make these fail-safes?


    But why?


    Without those fail-safes, I would¡¯ve self-annihilated the moment I returned. Wasn¡¯t that the logical outcome? Why work so hard to stop it?


    That other Sasha must have been important.


    Chan murmured, ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like this,¡± glancing between me and Edgar. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ a privilege¡­¡±


    She seemed on the verge of saying more when Edgar cleared his throat, and she fell silent.


    With the final knot removed, I braced for pain¡ªfor Chaos to return.


    But nothing happened.


    My body felt slightly lighter, as if gravity had eased by a fraction. The magic around me sharpened. Before, I needed concentration to keep my magical sight active; now it took no effort, the way it should have been from the start.


    (Do it. Destroy yourself.)


    I almost started.


    I should have.


    But if I really tried, Chaos would come, wouldn¡¯t he?


    And¡­


    I promised Edgar I wouldn¡¯t.


    Chan said it would hurt her.


    I didn''t know why, but it mattered.


    So I stopped.


    (And that, perhaps, was a mistake.)


    * * *


    Edgar showed other spells connected to my body ¡ª bindings it to the machines, keeping it healthy, clean. He said I wouldn¡¯t need these spells anymore (Did they even have more machines? I¡¯d already ruined so many.)


    Another one let Edgar monitor my location and physical state. He asked if I was okay keeping it "for now."


    Why wouldn''t I be?


    And finally, he showed me a spell to "prevent REM sleep."


    Apparently, humans enter something called REM sleep. A state where the mind generates hallucinations¡ªdreams, Edgar called them.


    ¡°The first time I dreamed after returning,¡± Edgar said, voice even, ¡°my subconscious believed I was still in Chaos. I attacked. Nearly destroyed myself. Nearly destroyed the facility.¡± A hollow scoff. ¡°We tried again. Decades later. And again after that. Same result. Worse recovery - he paused - Now we just¡­ don¡¯t. No REM. No dreams. It¡¯s safer.¡±


    I waited for the revelation¡ªthe reason this mattered. But nothing came. Why would hallucinations matter at all?


    Chan paled. Her eyes flickered between Edgar and me¡ªsharp, brittle movements, like something inside her cracked.


    Fear? Regret? Sorrow?


    Why?


    I couldn¡¯t tell. She didn¡¯t speak.


    When we were done with the spells, there was another meal. And, for some reason, they still included me.


    They had seen what I was. What I did. I hurt Chan. I destroyed their machines. I had no purpose here.


    But they set a plate in front of me anyway.


    They mostly talked to each other. The food¡ª¡°mashed potatoes,¡± they called it¡ªassaulted me with ¡°salty,¡± ¡°sweet,¡± ¡°savory¡± at once. I¡¯d just learned these words, and they felt like a detonation of flavors. Do humans always eat such intense things?


    It was so overwhelming that I barely noticed Chan speaking. I apologized, expecting reprimand, but she didn¡¯t punish me.


    ¡°Sasha, how are you feeling... after everything?¡± she asked.


    I wasn¡¯t in pain. No Chaos (not yet). They couldn''t send me back.


    Instead, I was¡­ here. Eating. Soft, warm potatoes, heavy on my tongue. Rich. Dense. Too much. Overwhelming in its absence of agony. Crushing waves of anti-pain.


    I didn¡¯t deserve this.


    I had hurt Chan. I had destroyed things. Things more valuable than I had ever been. Than I could ever be.


    And they still hadn¡¯t punished me.


    I didn''t know what to answer Chan.


    "I am... sorry I hurt you?" I asked, uncertain. Hoping that was what she wanted. I wasn¡¯t sure what sorry meant. I only knew that the knowledge of her pain - and that I caused it - seared me¡ªconstant, almost like Chaos¡¯ essence burning through my own.


    - It''s okay, dear - she repeated, and I still couldn''t understand how it could be okay - But how do you feel?


    I lifted my shoulders in what Chan called a shrug¡ªa gesture meant to convey uncertainty or lack of an answer. It felt artificial, but I tried anyway.


    She smiled. (Why? Does this amuse her?) Then she continued, her voice low and measured.


    ¡°Sasha, I¡¯ve been thinking about your panic attack¡­¡± Her gaze locked onto mine. There was no fear in her eyes¡ªat least, not of me. Something else stirred behind them, something I couldn¡¯t name. (She should be afraid. Why isn¡¯t she?)


    My throat went rigid.


    ¡°...and I wonder if I can help you understand it better,¡± she finished.


    She paused, giving me time to process. ¡°You feared we¡¯d send you to the Door again, didn¡¯t you?¡± I nodded, stomach twisting at the memory. (Pathetic. I had no right to doubt them; still, they don¡¯t really care¡ªthey cannot. I was made to suffer. That¡¯s my only function) ¡°That was completely reasonable from your perspective,¡± Chan added, voice gentle but precise, like a blade cutting to the core.


    (reasonable? What?..)


    I nodded anyway.


    ¡°Then let me ask this,¡± she said. ¡°After your sessions with Doctor Kein, you always thanked him, correct?¡± I nodded again. ¡°And after our speech lessons, ever since you learned the word ¡®thank you,¡¯ you kept using it. Why?¡±


    I did. Of course. Why wouldn¡¯t I? I had to, right?


    I forced my mind to assemble an answer.


    "You both¡­ spent time. Energy. Did something for me. And I''m sure it wasn¡¯t pleasant."


    Wasn¡¯t that how it worked? They gave something. It must have cost them. So I owe them.


    She scoffed again. (Why?) and then the corner of her mouth arched in a tiny smile, for just a moment.


    ¡°So...¡± Chan inhaled, gaze locked on me. ¡°You protected all of us, holding Chaos at bay. You suffered through something I can¡¯t even imagine.¡±


    Her half-smile vanished, replaced by something raw.


    ¡°How grateful do you think we are?¡±


    The logic was clear, but the conclusion felt wrong. I wasn¡¯t like them. I wasn¡¯t meant to be thanked.


    She didn¡¯t push further. I almost thanked her for that, but something in her stare said it wasn¡¯t time.


    After "lunch" they said it''s time to see "the outside". I didn''t understand the concept. Apparently, if something was surrounded by walls and had a roof, it was "inside", and all this time I was "inside". And that "outside" was much bigger.


    It was too big.


    Chaos never wasted space. He got bored by creating it. Space requires some physical laws, which he never bothered with, so it eventually collapses under its own contradictions. He shaped only what was necessary¡ªenough for his purpose, no more.


    But this?


    No boundary of unmaking. No paradox spiraling inward to erase itself. Just existence. Just space.


    And it wasn¡¯t empty.


    They called it a ¡°park.¡± A small one, apparently. If this was small, what did large even mean?


    So many living things. Everywhere.


    A fierce onslaught of green¡ª¡°trees,¡± ¡°grass,¡± terms I recognized from pictures¡ªerupted all around me. They weren¡¯t just shapes: they exhaled scent, breathed color, and rustled with hidden life I couldn¡¯t quantify. I tried to dissect it as I would a Chaos construct¡ªmapping edges, identifying patterns¡ªbut the deeper I looked, the more infinite it became. Too many layers, too many systems, every piece interlocking with another. I couldn¡¯t hold it all in my mind at once. I think that these green things absorbed the radiation from this blazing sphere above in order to maintain themselves. That was so bizarre, but also... beautiful.


    The glazing sphere - the ¡°sun,¡± apparently - emitted so much heat. I waited for pain. Fire or scorching or at least the meltdown of my skin. But nothing happened. The heat just sank into me, oddly... pleasant, no agony attached.


    The sun¡¯s brightness stabbed my eyes, and tears welled up against my will. I tried closing them, but the afterimage pulsed in my vision¡ªrainbow spots dancing behind my lids. Chan quietly told me not to look straight at the sun. I obeyed, surprised by how it lingered even when I wasn¡¯t looking.


    A light breeze brushed my arms¡ªgentle, not flaying. Even the air here felt soft. Then Edgar guided me to a ¡°pond,¡± a vast container of water far greater than any I¡¯d witnessed. Chaos rarely bothered with water, it was too simple a tool of torture. Here, it just existed, shimmering in the sunlight, home to small creatures flicking around below the surface. They had vibrant scales of orange, black, white, snapping at empty space.


    ¡°They¡¯re hungry,¡± Edgar explained. I froze, expecting them to surge onto land and devour us. Instead, he held out a chunk of bread, urging me to scatter it. ¡°Go on. Give it to them.¡±


    The fish swarmed, orange scales flashing, mouths snapping at the crumbs I dropped.


    I had fed someone. Given something. And they¡­ took it.


    And¡­


    And I felt... warm, but inside.


    (Was that warmth why they kept feeding me?)


    The bread ran out too quickly, thought.


    Something sharp cut through the air. A high, piercing sound. A warning? An attack?


    I flinched, readying my to-go attack.


    A tiny creature. With wings. But it didn¡¯t strike. Didn¡¯t charge. Just sat there, perched on the branch, its small body puffed up, chirping at the world.


    A "bird".


    It wasn¡¯t a threat.


    Was it¡­ talking?


    Did it also want bread?


    I also saw and felt the presence of at least ten humans at the perimeter; I think they were ready to use their magic against me; it made sense. But I didn''t sense any hum of immediately ready spells.


    (not yet)


    All that - the sun, the smells, the sounds, the creatures, the shadows and light in these small plants... the air that felt alive, so much fuller than "inside".


    All that was too much.


    Still, some part of me didn''t want to leave and go inside, but Edgar and Chan insisted it was time for "dinner." Apparently, hours had passed.


    Why do they consume food so often?


    Throughout the dinner - with them, again! - my mind started to drift. I barely kept it focused, but everything became blurry. I recognised this state from before - "exhaustion".


    Still, I noticed when Edgar said they would take me to "my" room. He explained that people need "privacy" and that I should have "my own space." This was absurd. I didn''t need anything like it; there was no pain and no Chaos, what more could I possibly need?


    But I didn''t argue. I wasn''t sure I was allowed to.


    Chan smiled. ¡°Well, you clearly needed your own space¡ªafter all, you redecorated the hospital room so thoroughly, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    Something in me flinched.


    Mockery. Chaos did that. Twisted words into knives. Laughed while they cut deep.


    I braced for pain.


    But¡­ nothing came.


    Chan¡¯s smile wasn¡¯t cruel. No sharpness in her tone. Just warmth.


    I hesitated. Then, cautiously, I smiled back.


    I didn¡¯t know why.


    I was so exhausted that I barely remember how I got to the room. Edgar almost dragged me, I think.


    The room was too big. (Why did they waste so much space on me?) My body felt heavy, as if it turned into stone (it didn''t, that''s not how petrification felt, now wasn''t painful). I fell into the bed. Too soft, terrifyingly so. It was wrong.


    "Don''t forget to take off your clothes before you sleep, sweety." Chan''s voice.


    I barely had enough awareness to weave my sentinels. No net stopped me. (finally)


    And then, for the first time in this world¡ª


    For the first time in eternity¡ª


    Without the spells nudging me to lose awareness, ¡ª


    I fell asleep.

 Chapter 13

    Sasha


    5 years BA.


    ACC Serenia research facility at the Door.


    My fourteenth day began with yet another mistake.


    I woke up, disoriented. For a few breaths, I forgot this room existed¡ªmy room, if ¡°mine¡± means anything at all. This body felt both heavy and¡­ light, an unfamiliar sensation.


    But not pain.


    Still nothing.


    Then, as I lay on the (too) soft surface they called a ¡°bed,¡± images from ¡°yesterday¡± (counting time in a straight line still felt so odd, yet¡­ appealing) resurfaced.


    Oh no.


    Why am I here? Why am I not in pain? I hurt Chan. I ruined things.


    But they didn¡¯t destroy me or even punish me¡ªif anything, they freed my magic. And they gave me this huge space, claiming it belonged to me.


    (That can¡¯t be real, can it? Maybe they expected me to destroy something? Should I offer? Perhaps that¡¯s how they¡¯ll let me stay¡­)


    Stop. You lack information. Gather it first.


    Sitting up, I took in the unfamiliar room: wide, open, far too large. Several doors led to other spaces¡ªone to the smaller ¡°toilet room,¡± then to a chamber with strange shining devices. Another door partially revealed a table and shelves of mysterious objects. Were they (finally) for torture? Or something else? I couldn¡¯t guess.


    There was a cushioned object called a ¡°sofa,¡± plus small tables, potted plants, and pictures on the walls. The floor was covered in a soft, patterned fabric¡ªso intricate I hesitated to step on it. Maybe I should levitate over?


    (Why would they put me in a place like this?)


    A wide glass window offered a view too vast to be real. I wanted to examine it, but my senses jolted when I felt Edgar¡¯s presence behind the main door.


    Knock. Knock.


    He was knocking for some reason.  Did he want me to do something?


    ¡°Edgar?¡± I tried. My voice felt scratchy; the words came out wrong.


    ¡°Good morning, Sasha,¡± he said, his voice muffled. Why wasn¡¯t he entering?


    I flicked my senses toward him¡ªno active magic, no visible weapons, no tension in his stance.


    I opened the door. It wasn''t locked.


    He was smiling, but the moment he saw me, his face darkened in a blotchy flush, his gaze shooting upward as if searching the ceiling for danger.


    ¡°Sasha, uh¡­ I¡­um¡ª¡± His voice jumped an octave. ¡°I¡¯ll¡ªI¡¯ll come back. Chan¡­ she¡¯ll¡ª I¡ª!¡±


    He spun around and practically fled.


    Had I erred? I stood there, frozen.


    Should I chase after him? Apologize? No, that would be another mistake.


    Did I forget some vital greeting? I should have started with ¡°Good morning¡±! Of course! Chan explained it so many times, and I knew I was supposed to say it, but¡ª


    ¡°Hello, Sasha!¡± Chan¡¯s voice rang out, bright as ever, appearing from the direction Edgar had fled. Then she laughed. Hard. Tears glimmered at the corners of her eyes.


    ¡°Oh, sweetie,¡± she gasped between giggles, ¡°poor Edgar! He definitely wasn¡¯t ready for that!¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± I asked, alarm rising.


    She guided me back inside, rummaged on a nearby table, and handed me a big piece of cloth¡ªa robe.


    ¡°Here, put this on. You¡¯re, uh, naked. You startled the poor old guy.¡±


    Naked. Right. Clothes. I had taken them off before sleeping and forgot to put them back on.


    That was a mistake? But why? Did nudity cause pain?


    I should have remembered. Stupid. Another error. Did I hurt Edgar somehow?


    I slipped the robe over my head, fumbling until it covered me. My cheeks grew hot for some reason.


    Chan only laughed harder. ¡°No worries, Sasha. It¡¯s actually our fault; we never got around to clarifying morning routines. But oh, his face¡ªI wish I¡¯d taken a picture. Edgar...¡± She choked on another giggle.


    I was lost. If it was wrong, why was she laughing? If I hadn¡¯t harmed Edgar, why did he run? And how was it her fault? Clearly it was mine.


    Humans were so complicated.


    Chan stayed and offered to ¡°help me with a morning routine.¡± Helping, again¡ªwhy?


    She walked me through something called ¡°hygiene¡± and explained the purpose of each device in the ¡°bathroom.¡± I repeated every instruction in my mind, trying not to forget a single detail. I didn¡¯t want to make yet another mistake. (I knew I¡¯d do it anyway, but still.)


    I didn¡¯t understand half of it. The basic idea of ¡°caring for the body¡± was obvious to her¡ªalien to me. Why preserve a body at all? With Chaos, every body he put me into was just another canvas for destruction. Even if it took hundreds of years, even if he took his time, he¡¯d tear it apart eventually. The notion of keeping and maintaining one made no sense. Bodies were meant to be destroyed, weren¡¯t they?


    But Chan insisted all humans do this¡ªthat I should do it, too.


    Then she showed me ¡°the shower.¡±


    Liquid falling on me wasn¡¯t exactly new. I¡¯ve been corroded by acid, molten metal, boiling oil¡ªscalded, liquefied, obliterated.


    I expected something like this now, but no. Here, it was just¡­ water (how many uses do they have for it? And why do they just waste it on me?). And it didn¡¯t hurt. The opposite¡ªan anti-pain so powerful I couldn¡¯t even think for a moment.


    Every inch of skin screamed the opposite of agony.


    Warmth.


    (Surely I shouldn¡¯t have this.)


    Chan said I could change the water¡¯s temperature and pressure ¡°if I want to.¡± Change it? Why? They¡¯d already given me something like this¡ªwhy ask for more?


    But¡­ a tiny flicker inside me wanted to test the handles she pointed out.


    I turned one knob, braced for pain.


    But it grew warmer instead.


    Turn it again¡ªwarmer still. Then back the other way¡ªcolder. I¡­ controlled it.


    This can¡¯t be real.


    But I kept going.


    I pushed the dial to its hottest setting. The water washed over me in a thick, steamy wave¡ªscalding, intense heat. The skin went immediately red, limbs grew heavy, and the air became harder to breathe.


    I¡¯ve been burned thousands of times, in thousands of ways¡ªuntil it all blurred into numbness. But here, it just¡­ warmed me.


    Then I swung it all the way to ¡°cold.¡± Icy droplets pelted arms and chest. Breath caught at the sudden change, heart thudding in the ears. But still no agony¡ªno freezing or shattering.


    Simply cold.


    I turned it back and forth. An abrupt shift from scalding to freezing shocked this body more than a slow transition. Muscles tightened; a weird mix of heaviness and lightness settled in; the breathing changed¡ªyet none of it hurt. Could bodies respond without breaking?


    I could control how I felt, with a small handle marked by a red-and-blue circle.


    That made no sense.


    I have never¡­


    ¡­I lost myself in the sensation, flipping from max cold to max warm again and again. Part of me kept expecting the water to catch fire or freeze me solid, but it never did (not here, not yet).


    My body stayed intact, the sensation shifting from a bright shock to a deep, warm lull.


    The skin on my fingertips wrinkled, but it still didn¡¯t hurt. Can body just... change?


    Chan¡¯s voice broke through from behind the bathroom door:


    ¡°Sasha, sweetie? Are you okay? It¡¯s been fifty minutes!¡±


    Fifty?


    I panicked. Fifty minutes? That¡¯s long here, right? I shut off the water in a rush, heart pounding. How dare I waste so much water¡ªsomething that probably has value or limits¡ªand so much time¡ªChan¡¯s time, no less¡ªjust because I¡­ (I shouldn¡¯t have done this.)


    (They¡¯ll punish me. Finally. It was too much.)


    And, of course, I almost forgot the robe.


    (Not again. Never again.)


    I bolted out, grabbing the robe and fumbling it on, mind spinning with all the mistakes I must have stacked up in that single hour.


    I shouldn¡¯t have done this. I used too much. Something that wasn¡¯t for me.


    (But¡­ if they let me¡ªif it¡¯s somehow, unbelievably possible¡ªI want to do it again.)


    I expected Chan to reprimand me for wasting so much water and her time, but she only smiled and asked if I liked it. Then she apologized¡ªfor ¡°bothering¡± me, saying she worried I might¡¯ve gotten lost or something.


    Lost? How would I get lost in a "shower"? Still, I nodded quickly, my pulse slowly easing.


    Chan then gave me a ¡°clothing one-oh-one,¡± which confused me immediately¡ªstarting with ¡°one-oh-one.¡± She said it casually, as if it was obvious, so I didn¡¯t ask.


    Could it be a numerical code? What is ¡°oh,¡± then? Or was this another of those weird ¡°idioms,¡± like ¡°blend in¡±?


    Clothes followed their own logic, yet their overall purpose eluded me. If clothing was for protection, why not reinforced fabric? If for thermoregulation, why leave parts exposed? Magic would be more effective, wouldn¡¯t it? Yet Chan said it was about ¡°comfort¡±¡ªa concept I still couldn¡¯t decode¡ªand something about ¡°societal meaning.¡± That made even less sense. But at least she gave me clear rules, and I was grateful. Rules were a set of fixed patterns to follow¡ªsuch a new, bizarre idea. Chaos never had those. Here, in this stable world, I realized I might rely on them.


    Afterward, they brought me to another shared meal¡ª¡°breakfast,¡± this time. (Including me yet again.)


    Edgar stood when Chan and I entered. (Why?)


    His face had returned to its usual color, but his eyes were slightly narrowed and crinkled. I opened my mouth to apologize, but he spoke first:


    ¡°Hello again, ladies,¡± he said, voice relaxed. ¡°Sasha, I¡¯m sorry about earlier¡ªI hope I didn¡¯t confuse you too badly.¡± He chuckled softly, gaze warm but hard to decipher. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect that particular¡­ situation.¡± Another, lighter chuckle. ¡°I should¡¯ve explained better. I trust Chan has corrected my oversight.¡±


    He glanced at Chan, and something passed between them¡ªa silent exchange I couldn¡¯t interpret. I didn¡¯t know how to respond.


    Chan laughed loudly. ¡°Serves you right, oh great Edgar.¡±


    (What does she mean?)


    He chuckled softly, shaking his head. Neither seemed angry or hurt. Still, I murmured a quiet ¡°sorry.¡± They both insisted it was fine, perfectly fine, nothing to apologize for.


    It was all so confusing.


    Breakfast itself overwhelmed me again. ¡°Yogurt and fruits,¡± they called it. Each fruit tasted like the colors here¡ªnot the real colors that hurt, but these gentler ones in this world¡ªwould taste, if colors had flavor. Another surge of intense, concentrated sensation. (Too much again. Too¡­ good. All all that... for me?)


    But the most impossible moment came afterward when Edgar placed another drink in front of me.


    It didn¡¯t look like any drink before. At first, I thought¡ªfinally, punishment. A liquid to corrode me from the inside. Chaos had done that so many times; it wasn¡¯t really bad. But Edgar explained it was a normal human drink: ¡°coffee,¡± with ¡°milk¡± (I knew milk already) and something called ¡°sugar.¡±


    I didn¡¯t understand why they wanted me to ¡°try¡± things, but he asked me to drink, so I did.


    He watched carefully as I raised the cup to my lips. Why?


    The smell of coffee was also strange¡ªnot smooth or gentle. Bitter, dark, complex. Like a puzzle with jagged edges and layers, ready to cut if I placed them wrong.


    I brought it to my lips slowly. (Now it''d hurt). Then I sipped.


    Oh.


    The taste exploded¡ªbitterness blooming first like a black star, then mellowing into a creamy swirl of warmth and sweetness, something vast and unknowable. A thousand tiny reactions flared inside me, overwhelming and complex. My mind tried frantically to map it onto the scale of anti-pain I¡¯d been building. If agony was scalable, then so should anti-agony be; yet all these anti-pain sensations were so intense I couldn¡¯t confirm it. Now, however, coffee seized the top spot, impossibly surpassing milk, yogurt, water, and even the shower. It held more anti-pain than anything else I¡¯d experienced here.


    It was better.


    ¡°Better¡± truly existed.


    I emptied the cup in almost one go, unable to stop. The taste lingered¡ªthick, bitter, sweet, and then something else entirely.


    I needed more immediately.


    But I couldn¡¯t. It was too good. (How dare I ask for more?)


    Edgar kept watching, eyes oddly bright.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­¡± I paused, searching for the right word, ¡°Good. Very¡­ good.¡±


    Edgar¡¯s face lit up, wide and open, yet something shadowed lingered behind his smile, sadness quietly brushing his eyes. ¡°You used to adore coffee, Sasha,¡± he said gently. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t part with your cup for longer than half an hour. I¡­ I¡¯m glad you still like it.¡±


    He moved suddenly, extending his hand toward my shoulder¡ª


    I flinched back, bracing for impact.


    His hand froze mid-air, fingers curling back slowly. He withdrew, eyes darkening with an emotion I couldn¡¯t name.


    (Why didn¡¯t he hit me? Wasn''t it his intent?)


    We both sat in silence. He meant that human Sasha, didn¡¯t he? The real one. But despite all their evidence (this can¡¯t be real, can it?), I couldn¡¯t believe I had ever been her.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Yet¡­ she loved coffee, and I¡ªI¡­ like coffee.


    I actually like something.


    (stop)


    (Could I have more?)


    (No, stop. Don¡¯t even think about it.)


    Chan broke the silence softly, sipping her own drink. ¡°Actually, I dislike coffee. I prefer tea¡ªperhaps we¡¯ll have you try it next, Sasha?¡±


    I stared. Chan didn¡¯t like coffee? But it was the best sensation¡ªthe highest on my anti-pain scale. Chan herself was so¡­ good. Strong. Complex. Kind. How could she dislike something like this?


    How could that be? Did I make a mistake by liking it? But Edgar seemed to approve¡­ And¡­


    Breakfast was ending. I kept my eyes on the empty coffee cup. Would they give me more?


    Certainly not. They must know I¡¯ve had enough. Too much.


    ¡°So, Sasha,¡± Chan said warmly, interrupting my thoughts, ¡°I was thinking¡­ maybe it¡¯s time you learned to read. What do you think?¡±


    Yes. (why would they?)


    I wanted to know what these symbols meant. I wanted to decode their world. Maybe then I¡¯d finally understand what they want from me¡ªand why they¡¯re so¡­ so kind.


    ---------------


    Edgar.


    Edgar was¡­ happy. A strange, quiet kind of happiness¡ªso rare he scarcely recognized it. Not since Alaric¡¯s demise. Not through two frantic decades of searching, finding Sasha, training her, and then losing her again. But now, for the first time in years, the grip of failure loosened enough for him to breathe.


    Sasha was¡­ fine. Of course, Edgar had no illusions about the fragility of her state. He knew exactly how close she remained to self-annihilation, how profound and unimaginable her trauma was, how little anyone truly grasped about the depths of her damaged mind, her immense power, or how much Chaos had devoured. He knew she¡¯d never fully recover, never truly be safe or free from suffering. But¡ª


    He¡¯d expected a hopeless battle, an unending magical wrestling match spanning months or years, constantly fighting off her attempts to destroy herself or others. At best, he¡¯d hoped to hold Sasha on that precarious edge long enough for the miracle that had saved him almost a century ago: the power of preserved memories and the love of others.


    Instead, she was here¡ªtalking, interacting, even smiling for stars¡¯ sake. She¡¯d sat at breakfast, looking at her coffee cup as though it held the secrets of the universe. She hadn¡¯t truly attempted to annihilate herself or harm others¡ªnot fully, not even once. Edgar still struggled to believe it, yet the evidence was right there.


    He couldn¡¯t ask for more.


    Chan had already taken Sasha to the library for her first reading lessons¡ªjust two weeks after her return. How was that even possible?


    Edgar longed to go with them, despite knowing he¡¯d add no more value than any other literate person. Chan was more than capable of teaching Sasha, and he had neglected other pressing matters for far too long.


    Still¡­ perhaps he could sneak away later, even for an hour or two, to bring Sasha another coffee? At breakfast, he¡¯d sensed her quiet yearning for more¡ªthough she never voiced it. He¡¯d considered offering but held back, hoping to encourage her to express desires for herself. Probably too soon for that. Despite Sasha¡¯s remarkable cognitive¡ªand magical¡ªabilities, the girl still barely believed she deserved to exist, let alone ask for anything.


    But Edgar had obligations. It was time to face them.


    His first meeting was with Commander Charles Bisset.


    Charles Bisset, Head of ACC Military Operations, was a seasoned battle mage in his mid-fifties, always impeccable in appearance, manner, and protocol. Twenty years earlier, Edgar had personally recruited him from the World Council Army, right after Charles¡¯s promotion to General. Charles had risen to prominence commanding counter-terrorist operations on behalf of the World Council, becoming legendary after the notorious five-day occupation conflict when De¡¯ern¡¯s aggressive new regime tested the border defenses of neighboring Te¡¯ien. Charles led the World Council peacekeeping force supporting the besieged Te¡¯ienian civilians, masterfully employing ach-tech defensive barriers and innovative tactical deployments in dense urban combat. Through strategic brilliance and precise coordination, he reduced civilian casualties to almost zero¡ªan unprecedented feat in city warfare, one Edgar deeply admired. And for the ACC, whose primary mission involved containing dangerous Chaos eruptions (especially in densely populated areas), that kind of operational genius was priceless.


    They had worked together closely and efficiently over the last two decades, but never became friends. Edgar deeply respected Charles, yet every meeting inevitably dredged up painful memories of Yonas¡ªthe man who previously held Charles¡¯s position, the friend and confidant who had betrayed Edgar and all they stood for, leaving deep scars. Charles wasn¡¯t to blame, Edgar knew; yet Yonas¡¯s shadow still lingered, making Edgar reluctant to form another bond.


    Maybe in another few decades¡­


    Charles entered, sharp and formal as always, snapping a flawless salute. ¡°Good morning, sir.¡±


    Edgar inclined his head, gesturing toward the chair opposite him.


    ¡°Good morning, Charles. Thank you for meeting me.¡±


    But Charles didn¡¯t sit. Instead, he stood rigidly, eyes hard. ¡°Permission to speak plainly, sir?¡±


    Edgar sighed, already knowing what was coming. ¡°Granted.¡±


    ¡°With all due respect,¡± Charles began crisply, his words clipped and controlled, ¡°What the actual fuck, Edgar?¡±


    Despite himself, Edgar almost smiled at the sheer bluntness. He deserved it.


    Charles went on without pause. ¡°First, we agreed on maximum containment and hazard protocols. Then we barely manage to contain her initial magical outburst¡ªdespite fail-safes and the presumed absence of hostile intent,¡± he emphasized sharply. ¡°And after all that, you take her straight to the Door? And if that wasn¡¯t enough, you personally dismantle all remaining fail-safes? Alone, without consultation?¡±


    Edgar exhaled heavily. ¡°It was the right call, Charles. We¡¯re building trust¡ªreal trust. It was necessary. I fully understand the risk, and I stand by my decision. Sasha deserves nothing less.¡±


    Charles¡¯s gaze darkened further. ¡°And what about everyone else, sir? The non-military personnel? What do they deserve? She could obliterate this entire facility in a heartbeat. What assurances can you possibly offer?¡±


    Both men knew Edgar had none.


    ¡°They all know the risks, Charles,¡± Edgar said slowly. ¡°Every person here understands the stakes. Sasha¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªis a living time bomb,¡± Charles interrupted, sharp eyes unyielding. ¡°And you¡¯ve just removed our only detonator. I formally request permission to evacuate all non-essential personnel immediately.¡±


    Charles¡¯s eyes weren¡¯t just hard; they were scared¡ªquietly, professionally, like a man who had run every worst-case simulation and seen them all end in ash.


    Edgar sighed again. Personnel here had competed fiercely for every single position, fully informed of the potential danger, yet overwhelmingly eager to serve at humanity¡¯s ground zero. Edgar also knew that, despite official briefings, most people could never truly internalize the terrifying reality behind the holy figure of a Savior. Saints couldn¡¯t hurt anyone, surely?


    ¡°No,¡± Edgar replied firmly after a moment. ¡°Issue another explicit warning memo. Offer extra paid leave to anyone uneasy with the current circumstances. Reinforce that Code Orange remains active: no family visits until further notice. But let each person choose for themselves.¡±


    Charles nodded stiffly, clearly disagreeing but knowing better than to push further. ¡°Then, at minimum, I require tripling our observational security detail¡ªat least two dedicated units maintaining eyes-on at all times. Spatial and magical barriers need immediate reinforcement, 400% stronger at least. Additionally, your and Professor Yan¡¯s threat assessment must increase from once to twice daily. And I want a full psychological evaluation scheduled promptly, with multiple independent experts.¡± He paused, expression grim. ¡°These are reasonable demands, sir. And frankly, they¡¯re barely adequate given the threat.¡±


    Edgar winced inwardly. Sasha already sensed constant surveillance, even if she didn''t point it out. He¡¯d hoped to reduce it over time, not expand it. Yet Charles was absolutely correct.


    Spatial barrier reinforcement alone would cost more resources than building an entirely new facility, but neither Edgar nor humanity would hesitate to pay that price¡ªnot for their Savior, and certainly not for everyone¡¯s safety.


    ¡°Agreed,¡± Edgar conceded quietly. ¡°Do it all. And Charles¡ª¡± He met the commander¡¯s fierce gaze, aware of the restrained anger and fear simmering behind that disciplined fa?ade. ¡°I¡¯m truly sorry for putting us all in this position. But we can¡¯t handle this with standard protocols alone. We have enough evidence, enough reason, to trust her. It¡¯s worth this risk. Remember, she¡¯s not a bomb¡ªshe¡¯s a girl who gave everything for us, Charles. Absolutely everything.¡±


    Charles didn¡¯t waver, eyes steady and cold. ¡°I understand, sir. But if you¡¯re wrong¡ªyou have the strength to survive it. Most others here do not.¡±


    Edgar flinched at those stark words, but before he could respond, Charles saluted crisply, executed a flawless 180-degree pivot, and marched from the room.Only then did Edgar exhale fully, realizing he¡¯d been holding his breath far too long.


    -----------------


    Charles had been difficult¡ªbut at least he was honest. Politics, Edgar thought grimly, were another beast entirely.


    The door opened with a chirp of polite automation, and in swept Diana¡ªsunny, crisp, and impossibly cheerful.


    Diana Al¡¯eti, the ACC¡¯s head of public relations, had risen swiftly through the ranks, starting as an intern barely a decade ago and proving herself indispensable. Edgar was fond of her personally¡ªhe genuinely appreciated her optimism, competence, and boundless positivity, especially after enduring years with her predecessor, whom he privately suspected might have been an agent of Chaos himself.


    Yet Edgar despised PR¡ªthe public spectacle, the carefully crafted statements, the delicate balance between truth and ¡°narrative.¡± It was an irony he never ceased to resent, given how much of his daily life revolved around exactly that.


    She handed him coffee¡ªtoo sweet, as always¡ªbut familiar. It was a small gesture of care he¡¯d grown oddly grateful for. Her earrings sparkled¡ªgolden, polished, elegant masks. A quiet tribute to the newly returned Savior and her anonymity. Edgar wasn¡¯t sure if Diana wore them deliberately. He suspected she did.


    ¡°Hello, Diana. Thank you,¡± Edgar said, glancing at the tablet in her other hand, a vague nausea curling in his stomach. ¡°How much?¡±Tiana¡¯s smile faltered only slightly. ¡°A lot, sir. We¡¯ve deflected what we could, but the Council¡¯s patience is wearing thin. They¡¯ve demanded an official update for two weeks now. And the public¡ªwell, we can¡¯t keep offering ¡®no comment¡¯ much longer. They need a headline. Preferably yesterday.¡±


    Edgar exhaled heavily. Of course. The entire world knew the Door had closed. That kind of event couldn¡¯t be hidden¡ªnot when ambient magic itself trembled. Sensors everywhere registered it instantly, and news had spread before Edgar even managed to stabilize Sasha.


    The world held its breath, desperate for news. Everywhere, people prayed, hoped, and waited¡ªlonging for updates, hoping against reason that, finally, a Savior would live on. Immediately after Sasha¡¯s return, when they put her into a magical sleep, Edgar approved one short, carefully worded statement: ¡°The Savior has returned alive. The critical threshold has passed safely.¡± Four aides and two neuro-linguists had painstakingly assembled it¡ªand it felt like a lie, even though it was the bare minimum. The first five minutes after a Vigil¡¯s end were when all his predecessors had self-annihilated, disappearing in glowing particles. Sasha survived.


    But in the days that followed, events unfolded too unpredictably, too rapidly, too personally, for Edgar to offer any coherent explanation. What could he say, when every word would be dissected, every silence weaponized, and every hint spun into a hundred theories and prophecies?


    ¡°I¡¯ll handle the World Council,¡± Edgar said finally. ¡°You can take that off your plate.¡± Diana visibly relaxed, her gratitude evident. ¡°Thank you, sir. Frankly, I wasn¡¯t looking forward to telling the Secretary-General to keep waiting yet again.¡±


    Edgar allowed himself a slight smirk. Telling politicians to shut up was one of the few perks of his position.


    ¡°And for the public?¡± Diana asked cautiously.


    Edgar hesitated. He detested the thought of feeding false hope, hated revealing even one detail more than necessary¡ªespecially anything that could point out at Sasha¡¯s identity. If the press discovered even a hint of who she was, any chance of peaceful recovery would vanish.¡°Let¡¯s tell them we remain cautiously optimistic,¡± Edgar said at last, choosing his words carefully. ¡°No more than that. When things stabilize, we¡¯ll arrange a proper press conference. Just¡ªnot yet.¡±


    Diana sighed softly, clearly dissatisfied but understanding. ¡°Of course, sir.¡± Her mask-shaped earrings caught the sunlight when she nodded goodbye, leaving him alone in the office.


    ----------


    By the time Edgar met virtually with the World Council representatives, his mood had soured further. Barely minutes in, after the obligatory worship, pretense of concern, and assurances of boundless gratitude, a council member asked, with thinly veiled eagerness, ¡°Could you provide an assessment of Mistress Irving¡¯s combat potential and field viability?¡±


    The bluntness of it left Edgar quietly seething. He forced his expression blank, though his fingers curled into a slow, silent fist beneath the desk. They masked it with polite smiles, soft-spoken platitudes about reverence for Saviors and concern for Sasha''s welfare¡ªbut Edgar heard the truth behind every careful phrase: Is she dangerous to us, and can we use her?


    He despised politics even more than PR¡ªanother bitter irony, given that he himself stood at the pinnacle of political power. Edgar was, quite simply, the single most influential figure alive. Not just because he wielded the greatest magical strength ever recorded (at least before Sasha), but due to the symbolic power his Savior status carried. For nearly a century, he¡¯d topped every list of the world¡¯s most influential individuals by such a margin that second place was the real curiosity, not first.


    Perhaps because of it¡ªor maybe in spite of it¡ªEdgar loathed the spotlight. Recovering from his Vigil under public scrutiny had nearly destroyed him. And that was decades before the modern media age. If Sasha¡¯s identity became known now, in this relentless digital era, she¡¯d never get a chance at even a semblance of a quiet life.


    He didn¡¯t answer right away. He let the silence linger, drawing flickers of discomfort across at least two representatives¡¯ faces. Then: ¡°I¡¯m not providing an assessment.¡±


    He cut the call short, leaving their polished reverence and barely disguised hunger to smolder like smoke in an empty room. Maybe, finally, all his power would mean something real: keeping Sasha free of people like them.


    ----------


    Edgar¡¯s final meeting hurt differently.


    The Irvings were waiting in the common area of the guest wing, a few buildings away from the research complex where Sasha now lived. The room was tasteful and quiet, with wide windows overlooking the valley and a low fireplace glowing behind them¡ªmeant to be soothing. It wasn¡¯t.


    Robert and Ekaterina sat side by side, close enough to look like one unit. Now in their mid-sixties, they had begun to resemble each other in that quiet way long-married couples sometimes do¡ªweathered, still, hardened by grief. Robert¡¯s hair was salt-and-pepper; Ekaterina¡¯s remained blond¡ªthe same shade Sasha once had, before silver claimed it.


    Ilya leaned against the back wall, arms folded, his build bulkier than Edgar remembered¡ªthough the days of mining in their hometown were long behind him. They lived comfortably now¡ªACC-funded, revered even, if in secret, materially secure. But comfort meant nothing when the system that fed you had also swallowed your daughter.


    Mark sat next to Ekaterina, clasping her hand tightly. He was around Sasha¡¯s age, more or less¡ªif age was still a concept that truly applied to her.


    Sasha¡¯s oldest friends, Alex and Stanis, were also here but waiting elsewhere. This meeting was for family only. Her friends were willing to wait, and Edgar was grateful.


    When Edgar entered, the Irvings stood. They greeted him, but tension clung like a stormcloud, thick and unspoken. Over the years, they¡¯d built something resembling a relationship¡ªbound by reluctant trust, grief, ritual updates, and the shared horror of waiting. They loved Sasha. So did he. But some wounds never scar¡ªthey only bleed quieter.


    He would always be the man who let their daughter walk¡ªwillingly, knowingly¡ªinto something unspeakable. The one still making decisions, even now, decisions they had no power to challenge.


    And today, he was about to hurt them again.


    Robert spoke first.


    ¡°What in stars¡¯ name happened yesterday, Edgar?¡± His voice was low but trembled like a dam about to burst.


    Edgar opened his mouth, but Robert pressed on.


    ¡°You said she¡¯s talking. That means she¡¯s lucid.¡± His voice cracked, sharper now, brittle.


    ¡°So what¡¯s this about her not wanting to see us?¡± A pause.


    ¡°And what¡¯s the bullshit you told Katya and Mark?¡±


    Edgar met his gaze, unflinching. ¡°She had a panic episode,¡± he said quietly. ¡°It wasn¡¯t small. We managed to calm her without harm, but it was close. You received the official update, but I wanted to tell you myself.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t explain why we can¡¯t even see her,¡± Ilya cut in before Edgar could finish. Sasha¡¯s older brother¡¯s voice was softer, but it carried a bite. ¡°You said she promised not to hurt herself. Or anyone. But somehow, we¡¯re not allowed near her?¡±


    Edgar sighed. He¡¯d expected this. Bracing himself, he said it again¡ªclearly, for all of them:


    ¡°You knew she would change,¡± Edgar began, steady but soft. ¡°But she¡¯s not a blank slate for us to fill with new memories. She remembers¡­ Chaos. What he did to her. Every second. In perfect, unbroken detail. But not who she was before. Not you. Not yet. Maybe never.¡±


    For a moment, silence.


    Then they all spoke at once¡ªEkaterina choking on a sob, Ilya swearing, Robert half out of his chair.


    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious¡ª¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not possible!¡±


    ¡°How dare you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Just talk to her, Edgar!¡±


    Ekaterina¡¯s voice cut through: ¡°That¡¯s still our daughter.¡±


    Mark remained silent, but his grip on his mother¡¯s hand tightened¡ªand for a moment, his jaw clenched hard.


    Edgar sat through it quietly, letting it crash over him like cold water. It wasn¡¯t new. But it still hurt.


    Finally, Robert raised his voice above the others, sharp and trembling.


    ¡°It¡¯s bullshit, Edgar. You say she remembers everything, but you act like she¡¯s not our daughter. She is Sasha. Ours. Even if she doesn¡¯t know it. Even if she¡¯s different now. We¡¯ve waited twenty-two years¡ªwe have the right to see her.¡±


    ¡°I know. I¡¯ve told her you love her. That you¡¯re here. I¡¯ll keep telling her. I¡¯ll give her her diary and the videos when she¡¯s ready. But the choice? It¡¯s hers.¡± Edgar paused, trying not to let the pain seep too heavily into his voice. ¡°She had no agency before, for far too long. It¡¯s time she does.¡±


    Edgar stood, knowing it would be seen as cowardice. He didn¡¯t care. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Truly. But I won¡¯t force her. Not again. That¡¯s final.¡±


    He walked toward the door. Their gazes burned into his back like blades twisting a wound that never healed. But no one stopped him.


    The door shut with a soft click. Behind it, voices rose again¡ªmuffled grief, muffled rage. Familiar. Deserved.


    He didn¡¯t blame them.


    He couldn¡¯t forgive himself either.


    But the choice? He¡¯d make it again.


    Every time.


    Sasha came first.


    ----------


    Now, finally, he could head to the library. Chan would surely have a sarcastic remark cocked and loaded. And Sasha¡ªmaybe¡ªwould tell him if she¡¯d conquered the alphabet.


    He needed that more than he dared admit.