That day, Kael's war began again.
Lyra had been fighting, holding her ground against the monk—but she wasn't strong enough. Kael saw her struggling. He moved to help her, but before he could even reach her, the demon army surrounded him. A trap. And in that moment of hesitation, the monk struck. Lyra was taken away.
She screamed for Kael, but he couldn't get to her.
Not yet.
They dragged her back to the temple of the light. And Kael… he was left with nothing but fury burning in his chest.
The leader of darkness appeared before him again—not as a shadow, but as something more solid this time. His voice, cold as iron, made Kael pause.
"You want her back?" the leader said. "Join us. Or die here with your grief."
Kael didn't say a word. He just looked in the direction they had taken her. Then he nodded. Slowly. Just once.
The demons cheered. And before the sun could rise again, war was declared.
In the temple, Lyra was locked away. The monks didn't harm her, but they didn't welcome her back either. Their disappointment was heavier than chains. They said she'd been tainted—by love, by him. Still, they didn't understand her heart. They never had.
She sat in silence. Waiting. Hoping.
The war outside grew worse. Villages burned. The air smelled like iron. Screams echoed through once-sacred halls.
When Kael finally reached the temple, it was already falling apart. The doors had been blown open. Blood covered the stones. Disciples lay broken on the floor. He stepped over bodies, his eyes scanning everything—until he saw a trembling hand trying to reach out from beneath a shattered column.
He ran.
It was her.
Lyra.
Her body was broken, stabbed more times than he could count. Blood covered her dress, her hair matted with dust. But her eyes—they were still searching for him.
He dropped to his knees and held her.
She gasped, barely able to breathe. Her fingers brushed against his cheek.
"I… I lo… love you," she whispered.
And then… she was gone.
Just like that.
Gone.
Kael didn't move. He couldn't. He stayed there, cradling her in his arms as the rain began to fall, soaking the earth, soaking them both. It was as if the skies had broken, as if the world itself mourned with him.
He whispered her name, over and over again. Like it could bring her back.
But it didn't.
And then, as if the universe hadn't punished him enough, the leader of darkness stepped forward—this time in full human form. A cruel smirk on his face. He looked like a man, but there was no soul in his eyes.
He ripped Lyra from Kael's arms.
Kael screamed. He tried to fight, but he was too late.
The leader set her body on fire. Right in front of him. Kael reached out, tried to stop it, but it was over. Her ashes scattered into the wind.
Something inside Kael broke.
The part of him that once knew love, the part that had dreamed of peace—it was gone. Swallowed by grief. He didn't care anymore. Not about war. Not about fate.
He only cared about the rage burning in his chest.
He didn't even notice the monk until it was too late.
The monk appeared behind him, sealing Kael in chains made from light. They weren't meant to hold his body, but his soul. And even as Kael struggled, consumed by hate, the monks didn't kill him.
They cursed him.
An elder monk stepped forward, face full of sorrow but no mercy in his voice.
"You, who destroyed villages… who took so many lives… now you mourn for one. Now you understand what it means to lose someone you love."
The monk raised his staff.
"Then let that be your punishment."
The curse hit Kael like thunder.
"You will not die. You will live. Forever. Watching every person you love be taken from you—again and again. You will always find them. And you will always lose them. You will be helpless."
Kael screamed—not from pain, but from the weight of what that meant.
After the curse, Kael tries to kill himself. Jumps from a cliff. Steps into fire. It doesn't work. Each time, he wakes again. Alone.
And then… time passed.
Years. Decades. Centuries.
He wandered. Never resting. Never forgetting. Searching.
For her.
The room fell silent as the woman finished the story.
Everyone was staring. No one dared to interrupt.
Then she spoke again—softly now.
"He looked for you everywhere. In every lifetime. Sometimes he found you. And every time, he lost you."
Her voice cracked slightly.
"He's been waiting for you. For so long. But he's also afraid. Afraid of seeing you die in his arms again."
She looked at the girl across from her—the new Lyra.
"That's why he doesn't say anything. That's why he watches you from a distance. Because if he gets close again… and loses you again… he doesn't know if he'll survive it."
At that moment, Lyra remembered something.
Not from this life—but from a dream she'd had many times before. In the dream, it was raining. She was dying. And someone was holding her, crying—his tears falling onto her face.
It had always felt distant, unreal.
But now she knew—it wasn't a dream.
It was this.
It had always been this.
And the words she'd spoken in that dream, the ones she hadn't understood then… she remembered now.
"I'm sorry I couldn't stay."