The silence that followed Josh’s death was so absolute it felt unnatural. Not even Emma breathed.
But then—
Everything around Eira shattered into darkness.
The walls, the floor, the body, even Emma vanished in a breath. She didn’t fall, didn’t move, and yet space warped around her like a curtain being drawn from the world. Her body felt weightless, unanchored. Darkness consud her—not malevolent, but ancient, waiting.
Then she was there. Again.
The sa place she had glimpsed eleven years ago as a small light .
But this ti, she was not a small light . She was whole—flesh with soul inside, full of thoughts and will—transported to a vast realm of lightless eternity. It was neither cold nor warm, neither dream nor mory. And before her stood the one thing she rembered vividly:
A great light, brilliant and blinding, not shaped like any being, but pulsing with presence. It radiated knowledge and ti, the weight of fate itself.
She recognized it instantly.
The World’s Will.
It had been with her the mont she transmigrated. It had guided her, if only vaguely. Now, it stood in her path again, and she did not flinch.
A pause stretched between them, long and heavy.
Then the Will spoke.
Its voice was neither male nor female, neither loud nor soft. It simply was, resonating through her bones, bypassing sound entirely.
"Do you know what you’ve done?"
Eira’s expression did not falter. Her eyes burned with sothing deeper than defiance.
"I did what I wanted to do," she said coolly.
The light shivered.
"You murdered a pivotal soul. You ignored my warning. The future has gone dark."
"Because of you," it continued, growing louder, sterner, "the lines of destiny have frayed. The weave has torn. I can no longer see what is to co. The fate of this world—of your world—is now obscured."
Eira narrowed her eyes.
"Good."
The Will’s light pulsed violently.
"You don’t understand. I warned you three tis. You altered sothing beyond your knowledge. Do you comprehend what it ans for even to be blind?"
"You act like that’s my problem," she snapped. "When I transmigrated, you told I would serve as a helper and a backup plan. That I would receive missions. If instability arose, I would be told what to fix."
She took a step forward.
"But I’m not your slave."
Silence answered her.
"I appreciate what you did—sending here. Giving a second chance. I do. But I won’t chain my actions just to preserve so vision of fate. What next? My death too, is fate? Am I to just nod and die when you tell it’s ti? Or should I sit quietly when it’s Emma’s life? Or Fleur’s?"
Her voice cracked slightly on that na. "No. I’m not watching them die because you want a stable tiline."
The light dimd slightly, as though recoiling.
"You erased my mories," Eira continued. "You sent here with nothing. You said this world was inspired by books and films from my previous life—but you stripped away all my knowledge. You sent in blind. And now you expect to bow every ti you show up? To obey blindly when you don’t even let rember what I’m supposed to prevent?"
Eira stepped forward, eyes burning.
"My whole existence here," she said coldly, "is a defiance of fate."
She stared into the light without fear.
"The mont you sent here... the mont I woke up in this world..."
"That was when the tiline broke. That was when fate changed."
Her voice sharpened.
"And now you expect to follow it?"
"You sent here."
"You altered everything."
"And still, you expect things to stay normal?"
She let the words hang in the air.
"Did you really think nothing would change?"
The light glowed faintly again, then answered, slower now.
"Had you truly been about to break the world, I would have intervened sooner. But I gave you a warning. That mont with Josh... it was not ant to be a turning point. You made it one. You disobeyed."
"I’m not your pawn," Eira snarled. "You sent here to live. I am living. I’m choosing. And if that bothers you—"
"—Then what?" the Will asked. Its tone, though vast, carried sothing almost close to sorrow.
They stood there—two forces in a realm beyond ti: the Will, ancient and overseer, and Eira, furious and full of defiant.
Then, Eira asked quietly, "When we first t... you said you couldn’t interfere. That you could observe, not act. So why are you here now? How did you bring ?"
"I did not," ca the calm reply. "I rely projected a part of myself to you. You are still standing where you were—still in that room. This mont exists outside of ti."
"You can’t interfere. And yet you judged ."
"I only cautioned. And I caution now: do not take steps that cannot be undone. You have made the future obscure. Even I cannot see what cos next."
Eira laughed—a bitter, hard laugh that echoed in the void.
"Good. Now you finally understand what it feels like."
She stared at the Will with open resentnt. "You cleared my mories, stripped my knowledge, and then dared to place rules around . And now you want to lecture about consequences? Look at what you’ve done."
She raised her voice.
"You made blind. And now you are blind too. Don’t pretend you didn’t bring this on yourself."
A long pause.
"Perhaps you are right," the Will said at last, softly.
The light dimd—not weakened, but resigned.
"Go, then. Walk the path you’ve chosen. I will not intervene again. I will not appear again. From this mont on, you are alone. Your fate, your choices, your consequences—are entirely your own."
Eira felt a chill. The Will’s presence began to fade, unraveling from her like silk.
She opened her mouth once more, her tone biting. "I was always alone, And don’t think you can stop from killing Cecil. I will kill him."
The Will said nothing.
A final silence stretched between them like a grave.
Then, without light or flash, the void tore open—and she was gone.
⸻
She blinked.
The room returned.
Josh’s body still lay slumped in the chair, green light still lingering in the shadows. Emma stood beside her, wand lowered but alert. Not even a second seed to have passed.
But inside her, everything had changed.
As a huge burden was lifted from her shoulders.
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