The dusty wind carried the smell of rusted iron and scorched earth.
Harith walked slowly through the ruins of the stone walls, inscribed with letters, split in half, as if the world itself had once burned from within.
He was still not sure if this was a dream or a real world from a novel he had written, but every step felt real.
The sky was inky gray, like faded old ink.
"Is anyone here?" his voice echoed, met with an empty echo.
Suddenly, from the cracks in the ancient statue, a soft voice could be heard, a small cough accompanied by a weak breath.
Harith approached.
There, a young girl lay half-conscious, her silver hair scattered among the blue flowers growing from the stone.
Her shabby clothes revealed a strange mark on her wrist, the star symbol she had designed for the heroine in her old novel.
He was stunned.
"Lyria...?"
The girl slowly opened her eyes.
Her gaze was blank for a moment, then soft as if she recognized someone she didn't remember.
"You... finally came."
Harith was stunned. In the original script he had written years ago, Lyria was supposed to die in Chapter 1.
But now she was alive and standing before him.
"How do you know my name?"
"Because the world still remembers, even when you try to forget."
He tried to help the girl up. When their fingers touched, the air trembled and time seemed to stop for a moment.
The dust in the air hung and the sound of the rubble disappeared.
"What's happening...?"
"Every time you're close to me, the world tries to rewrite what has been erased," Lyria replied, her tone trembling. "Maybe because... you're not a character in this story."
Harith pulled his hand away slowly.
He looked up at the sky and among the clouds of ink, a line of letters appeared, writing with light
"The Hero is not Kael."
He swallowed. Kael was the original hero he had created.
But this world now writes another name.
Lyria leaned against the cracked wall, her gaze far away.
"I remember you from another place. The place where I died."
"Don't say that," Harith whispered. "Maybe this time, you won't die."
She smiled faintly.
"Then please, don't change my destiny just because I feel guilty."
"I just want to save you."
"And if this world rejects your existence to do so?"
They fell silent.
The first rain fell but the water was not clear. It was black, like ink.
Each drop that fell on the ground formed letters and from there emerged new writing.
"The story has started again."
Harith gripped the wet earth, his lips trembling.
"If this world rewrites itself… maybe I have to rewrite our fate."
Lyria looked at him but this time with eyes full of meaning, as if she saw a future that Harith hadn't dared to imagine.
"If you rewrite this world, make sure you know the price you have to pay."
---
"There are destinies created by writers and there are loves that are born without needing to be written."