She stopped a few paces behind me.
I could feel her presence like a weight, a warmth I'd missed for weeks.
But something was different.
The air smelled like rain and earth, but beneath it, something sharper. Like the moment before lightning strikes.
I turned.
Anya stood there, hands tucked into the pockets of her coat. Her dark hair was loose, slightly damp from the mist still drifting over the meadow. She looked the same. And yet-
Her eyes.
They were still that deep, steady brown. But in the fractured light, I saw it: a thin, jagged crack running through the iris of her left eye. Pale blue. Like frost.
A Mark.
My breath caught.
She saw me notice.
For a moment, neither of us said anything. The wind stirred the grass between us, carrying the scent of wet leaves and something faintly metallic.
Then she smiled.
Not her usual smile. This one was smaller. Tired. Like it had cost her something just to wear it.
"Hey."
One word. And it hit harder than anything she could've said.
I stepped back. Instinct. Reflex.
And too late, I realized what that meant.
The smile flickered. Her brave face cracked. And then, slowly, tears welled up in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks.
She'd held it together until then. Until me.
No. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not ever.
The Reverie was a death sentence for ordinary people like us. Even more so for Anya. Anya, who got dizzy if she stood too fast. Who once cried during a thunderstorm because she was terrified it would hit us. Who still walked around sniffling from spring allergies.
Anya wasn't made for this.
She was too soft. Too fragile.
I realized I'd just been staring, frozen. I took a step forward, then another, and closed the distance. I didn't know what to say. Didn't even know what I was feeling, except that it was too much. Too fast.
She fell into me without a word.
We held each other, arms tight.
Her coat was damp. My hoodie was soaked. And as the light rain began again, I was glad for it.
Because it meant she couldn't see my tears.
The silence between us stretched long, but it wasn't empty. It carried everything we couldn't say.
Then she pulled back just enough to reach into her coat pocket. Her fingers were trembling.
"I kept this," she whispered, holding out a small, crumpled shape in her open palm.
I stared.
A ring. Twisted from golden foil.
The one I'd made, years ago, from a chocolate wrapper on Valentine's Day.
My throat tightened.
I'd twisted the wrapper into a makeshift band and slid it onto her finger like it meant something. Like it was enough.
She took my hand gently, turned it over, and placed the ring in my palm.
"I can't take it with me."
The rain dotted her lashes. Her voice shook.
"Just… don't forget I was here. That we were real."
I closed my hand around the ring.
"You're not dying," I said, though I didn't believe it. "You'll come back. You'll get your Vow and… and everything will be fine."
Her eyes met mine.
"You don't have to lie to me, Dio."
She tried to laugh, but it caught halfway.
"I'm scared."
I opened my mouth. No words came.
"I don't want to disappear," she said.
I flinched at the word. But she wasn't finished.
"Promise me something."
"Anything."
Her hand found mine again.
"Promise me you won't disappear. Not into grief. Not into some… fantasy where you think you can save me."
Her voice was steady now. Focused. Like she'd been practicing this in her head.
"Just keep going," she said. "Even if I don't make it. Even if everything breaks."
I couldn't speak. I could only nod.
"You have to move on, Dio."
She smiled again, smaller this time, but real.
And for just a second, the wind shifted.
The grass bent in a spiral. A bird cried somewhere in the hills.
Something in the world… tilted.
I might've imagined it. Might not have.
But I remembered that feeling, like we weren't alone. Like someone, somewhere, had been listening.
She leaned in and pressed her forehead to mine.
And in that moment, I wanted to promise her everything. I wanted to believe I could protect her. That I could bend the rules of Reverie itself if I tried hard enough.
Instead, I whispered:
"I'll find you."
She closed her eyes.
"You don't have to find me. Just live, enough for the both of us."
And just like that, she stepped back.
Turned.
And began to walk away.
I stood there in the meadow long after she was gone. Hand clenched around gold foil.
The city stretched in the distance below, the Citadel of Mirrors pulsing faintly on the horizon like a heartbeat.
A quiet pulse.
I wondered if it had been watching us all along.
And from somewhere, low, faint, carried beneath the wind, I thought I heard her voice again.
Don't disappear.
—
I was still there, sitting on the rock in the rain, long after the Gate had closed with the sun.
Then my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I fumbled to pull it out, wiping the screen dry.
It was from Lyra.
Where are you? I'm at the car.
I blinked. The world came back in pieces.
Right. The car. Lyra.
I stood, slowly, legs stiff from the cold, and began walking back.
—
She gave me a long stare as I slid into the drivers seat, water still dripping from my sleeves.
"You okay?"
I nodded. "Yeah. Sorry. Got caught in the rain."
She arched a brow. "That's more than rain. That's like... drowned."
"I'm fine."
She didn't push it.
I just drove.
I watched the city blur past, lights streaking across the windshield.
For now, I didn't tell her about Anya.
Didn't tell her she was Marked.
Didn't tell her that I might never see her again.
I just needed the night.
To feel it. To hold onto the last few pieces before they slipped away.
—
When we got home, I climbed the stairs and peeled off my soaked clothes. The foil ring sat heavy in my palm. I placed it gently on the edge of the bathroom counter, where the light caught it.
Then I stepped into the shower.
The hot water hit me like a wave, scalding the cold from my skin.
But it didn't wash away the ache.
Not the memory of her voice.
Not the look in her eye.
Not the feeling that something in me had cracked, too.
And then, like an echo, Cayos's voice returned to me:
"They say the Reverie chooses the worthy. I say it chooses the interesting."
Worthy or not, it had chosen her.
And I couldn't stand by and do nothing.
Even if I wasn't chosen. Even if I didn't understand how any of it worked.
I had to try.