The war was over.
The multiverse no longer screamed.
Raga sat quietly on the edge of a silent lake on a world untouched by the fires of war. The water mirrored the infinite sky—endless, calm, and ancient.
Beside him, Death appeared—not as an omen or shadow, but as a companion. The gentle light in her eyes no longer carried the weight of endings, but the warmth of presence.
They spoke without words.
---
Raga looked out at the horizon, where the last light of a dying sun kissed the lake's surface.
"I never knew peace," he said softly.
Death's smile was tender.
"Peace isn't a place. It's a moment you allow yourself."
He reached out, fingers brushing hers.
"Did you ever want to end it all?"
Her gaze met his—honest and deep.
"Not to end life. But to remind it of its value."
They sat together as stars began to awaken overhead, weaving patterns across the sky.
---
"You taught me something," Raga said.
"What?"
"That endings aren't always loss. Sometimes, they're beginnings."
Death nodded. "Every breath you take is a promise to begin again."
He looked down at his hands—scars and light interwoven across his skin.
"What am I now? If not weapon, if not god… what remains?"
"You," she said simply. "A story."
He smiled, a quiet sound.
"A story that refuses to be written for."
"That chooses its own path."
They rose together, walking along the water's edge.
---
"Will you stay?"
Death paused, her eyes like twilight.
"I am everywhere and nowhere. But I will be with you when you need me."
He nodded, feeling a calm deeper than any battle victory.
"Then I'm ready."
She stopped and looked at him with a softness he hadn't seen before.
"Remember, Raga—the brightest stars shine most after the darkest nights."
---
They stood beneath the vast canopy of the universe, two figures bound by fate and choice.
And in that quiet, endless moment, there was no war.
Only the gentle pulse of life, love, and the stories yet to come.