One might think rebirth is a blessing, a divine gift to live your life once again, to right wrongs, to seize opportunities, to rewrite a painful past.
Calling it a blessing or a curse depends entirely on whether your original life was good, or utterly consumed by suffering and futility.
For most, the very idea of a second chance is a dream. For Aira, it was a torment. In her case, rebirth was indeed a chance for her to change the world, to prevent the irreversible descent into oblivion.
Yet with each successive return, it has solidified into a cursed mission. Over and over again, the same tragedies kept unfolding, the same faces twisted in despair, the same insurmountable obstacles reappeared.
Nine times! Nine times!! The same devastating defeats. This time, however, this tenth time, the cycle had to break. The sheer weight of countless failures, of forgotten screams echoing only in her mind, pressed down on her with an unbearable force. She simply couldn't endure it again.
The rough fabric of Aira's travel cloak, stiff with the dried residue of dust and something metallic that might have been old blood, rustled softly as she stepped out of the makeshift hut.
The air, thin and cool with the deceptive promise of a new morning, still clung to the cloying scent of damp earth and the distant, ever-present tang of decaying conflict.
Five months had passed since the sky had bled, since the world had fundamentally shifted on its axis, and yet the aroma of destruction remained an unwavering sentinel.
Beside her, Leo moved with a quiet, almost unsettling detachment. His gaze too steady for a child who had just witnessed the indescribable horror of death, fixed on the ravaged landscape.
There was no tremor in his hands, no lingering horror in his eyes – none of the stark, petrified shock that should have consumed a boy who had just survived the collapse of his entire world.
"I guess Jean is going to be late... what a hassle," Aira murmured, her voice a low, almost weary hum. It wasn't a question, but a statement of mild annoyance, directed more at the universe than at anyone specific.
She hadn't truly expected a response from Leo, not with the way he was, but a part of her, a tiny, foolish spark of hope that defied centuries of brutal experience, still yearned for some flicker of his usual boyish impatience, a sigh, a shrug, anything that signified normalcy.
Jean's punctuality was usually a comforting constant in a chaotic reality, and his delay now, however slight, gnawed at a deeper anxiety within her.
Her eyes, sharp and ancient beneath their youthful facade, drifted to his right hand, loosely swinging by his side and behold!!
The mark was there, etched onto the pale skin of his wrist. It wasn't the uniform, vibrant, glowing crimson mark of an Ascendant, pulsing with raw, untamed power nor was it the flat, light-absorbing black mark of a Dormant, signifying hidden potential.
His was a complex, almost symmetrical cross shape, woven with both vibrant, arterial red and abyssal, light-devouring black.
It didn't pulse or glow; it simply existed, a stark, undeniable anomaly that defied the very rules Aura had imposed upon humanity. It was different. So different. A cold dread, familiar yet always unwelcome, tightened its icy grip around Aira's heart.
Something bothered Aira. Normally, when Aira comes back to this same scene, Leo usually fall into some sort of trance, like he was remembering the previous life, he would cry and then give a warm smile to Aira as a way of saying he remembered her. But this time it was different.
She had prepared for the pain, endless cycles and for the sacrifices. She wasn't prepared for this new Leo. He moved as if untouched by the cataclysm, his presence defying the established rules of rebirthing.
To Aira, it could only mean one thing..Leo didn't return the usual way. The meaning of it remained shrouded in a chilling uncertainty, a variable she had never encountered in any of the dark iterations that came before.
Please don't let this be another cycle where it all falls apart ..
The silent plea was raw, desperate. Every choice, every tiny deviation from her meticulously planned path, threatened to unravel everything she had endured, everything she was fighting for.
She watched Leo, searching his placid expression for any hint, any flicker of the burden she carried for them both.
His last words from the previous life echoed in her mind:
"To protect, sacrifices must be made...give your hearts our".
He had said it with clarity and wisdom with a hint of heartlessness. He was meant to be the key, the constant, the one whose hidden power would shift the tides,but if he didn't remember anything from the past life..and was just reborn rather being reincarnated..what was his plan?
"Leo. ....what do you have in mind?"
The question was a silent, agonizing prayer directed at the boy beside her, who continued to observe the desolate landscape with unnerving calm.
Just then, the air shimmered, distorting like heat rising from asphalt, and a man materialized from thin air before them. He stood tall, despite the obvious strain on his features, his usually impeccably neat dark hair slightly disheveled.
He was stained with blood, fresh and dark against the once-pristine white of his butler-like cloth, the stark contrast a grim testament to recent violence. His breath came in ragged gasps, but his posture, though weary, remained fundamentally precise.
"Hmmm...Jean you're here." Aira said, a small sigh of relief escaping her lips.
"Yes my Lady" Jean replied, his voice a smooth baritone, respectful despite the grim circumstances and his own apparent distress. His eyes, quick and assessing, swept over Leo, noting the boy's unnerving composure, before settling back on Aira, a familiar weariness etched around them.
"How's Eldoria...?" Aira asked, her gaze distant, already picturing the ruined city.
Jean's face tightened, a flicker of profound exhaustion in his eyes. He coughed, a dry, rasping sound. "War has died down... for now. But it still smells like blood."
Jean was loyal, sacrificing his own peace to help Airs achieve her seemingly impossible mission. He's a butler, yes, but also a failed fiance, a man Aira had always dreamed of marrying.
This didn't mean the romantic feelings will stay. Romance? There was no time for such thoughts. Not with the world teetering on the edge. Not with Leo, the ultimate wild card, beside her.
"Let's go, my lady." Jean extended a blood-flecked hand, not reaching for her, but offering a silent, steadying point of contact, a promise of protection and unwavering support. His weariness was profound, but his resolve, she knew, was a mirror of her own.
Aira glanced at Leo, who remained impassive, an enigma etched in human form. Then she looked back at Jean, whose unwavering loyalty was a constant, though weary, presence in her chaotic existence.
She had passed the first treacherous step of changing the deadly future. Leo was here, different, fundamentally altered, but here.
Jean was here, faithful, though burdened by glimpses of a past that wasn't entirely his own. But still, other battles, far more insidious than the last, remained to be conquered.
This deviation, Leo's unexpected shift, would either be their salvation or their complete undoing. The fate of everything hinged on this single, terrifying, unknown variable.
"Okay." Her single word was a quiet, resolute acceptance, swallowed by the vast, silent promise of the scarred land around them. The sun, a pale, indifferent orb in the bruised sky, finally broke free of the distant ruins, casting long, wavering shadows before them. Their journey, this tenth, most crucial cycle, had truly, irrevocably begun.