Kilu'an's body did not disappear.
It stayed.
That was the first thing that broke her.
Because everything else—
Every death.
Every world.
Every version—
Had always been taken.
Erased.
Reset.
But not this.
He lay there.
Still.
Heavy.
Real.
Rue Yim's hands trembled where they rested against his chest.
Cold now.
Already losing whatever warmth had made him him.
Her breath came shallow.
Unsteady.
"He chose me."
The whisper fractured.
Not accusation.
Not disbelief.
Just truth.
A truth that had always led to the same end.
Death.
Her chest tightened painfully.
Because if everything Saya said was true—
If all the worlds were simulations—
If all the lives were constructs—
Then what had Kilu'an been?
A program?
A reaction?
Or something else?
Her fingers curled slightly into the fabric at his chest.
"He felt real."
That was the problem.
That was always the problem.
They felt real.
Every version.
Every memory.
Every loss.
Even now—
