The wind didn't stop after the laughter faded.

It grew heavier, thicker — as if the air itself had a heartbeat.

Eira and Jorah stood at the ridge, watching sunlight ripple unnaturally across the valley. Every beam twisted, bending as if caught in invisible hands. The grass shimmered in hues no mortal eyes were meant to see — gold, violet, then white.

Jorah swallowed. "Tell me that's not reality melting again."

Eira didn't answer. Her fingers brushed the hilt of her dagger, though she wasn't sure what she meant to fight. The sensation in her chest was too familiar — a pull, magnetic and unmistakable.

"He's here," she whispered.

Jorah sighed. "You said that three times now. I'm starting to believe it, which means I'm losing my mind."

"No," she said softly. "You're remembering."

The ground trembled faintly, as though agreeing.

---

Far below the ridge — in the shimmering heart of the meadow — a figure stirred.

Kael lay half-buried in the grass, a faint scar of light tracing his chest where the last blow had struck him. His eyes fluttered open to a world that wasn't supposed to exist.

The sky above him was fractured, yet beautiful — layers of timelines stitched together in pale gold threads. He blinked against the brightness, memories bleeding through like broken glass: laughter, war, a mirror image of himself, and that final choice — to break the cycle instead of surrender to it.

He groaned, pressing a hand to his face. "If I ever try to rewrite reality again, someone stab me."

The grass didn't respond, which was probably for the best.

He sat up slowly. The meadow hummed with energy, time magic woven into every petal and stone. The world knew him. He could feel it — the timeline had looped and chosen to keep him in its cracks.

"Still breathing," he muttered. "Still cursed. Still handsome. So that's something."

He turned his head — and froze.

On the horizon, beyond the fractured light, two figures stood at the ridge.

Faint, but real.

Jorah's ridiculous posture.

Eira's defiant stance.

Kael's chest tightened. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

---

Back on the ridge, Eira felt the air shift again — not violently, but like the world exhaled for the first time in centuries. The shimmer below began to condense into a single point of light.

Jorah squinted. "That looks suspiciously like a person."

"Don't move," Eira warned.

"Not moving," he said, already stepping forward.

"Jorah—"

"Come on, Eira. What's the worst that can happen? It's probably him. Or a ghost. Or an evil god clone. All of which we've already survived!"

Eira sighed and followed.

The descent into the valley felt slower than it should've. The closer they got, the more time stretched — seconds elongating, moments repeating. The wind carried whispers of laughter and words that had never been spoken.

When they reached the heart of the field, the light pulsed once — and then fractured.

Kael stumbled out of it, blinking, disheveled, and very much alive.

For a moment, none of them spoke.

Then Jorah broke the silence. "You look terrible."

Kael blinked. "You're welcome."

Eira just stared, disbelieving. "How?"

Kael smirked, though his voice was quiet. "Time and I had a disagreement. I won."

Jorah snorted. "You argued with time?"

Kael shrugged. "She started it."

Eira's laugh broke the tension. It was small at first, but it grew — the sound shaky, edged with relief. Kael stared at her like he wasn't sure she was real.

"You're… here," he said softly.

"So are you," she replied.

They stood there, the three of them, in a world that had technically ended. The sky overhead stitched itself back together, stars forming patterns that hadn't existed in the old reality.

For the first time in what felt like ages, silence didn't feel empty.

---

Later, they sat by a small campfire — though Kael insisted the wood was probably made of time residue and might explode.

Jorah roasted something vaguely edible while muttering, "So, you broke the world, died, fought your past self, and now everything's shiny and confusing. Did I miss anything?"

Kael poked the fire with a stick. "You left out the part where I saved you both."

Eira rolled her eyes. "You also nearly erased us."

"Details."

Jorah groaned. "I hate that you sound proud."

Kael grinned. "You love it."

"No. I tolerate it. Barely."

Their banter filled the quiet valley like old music. It felt wrong — but right, too. Familiar, after so much chaos.

Eira studied Kael as the flames flickered across his face. There was something new in his eyes — softer, steadier. As though the endless battle with his past had burned out the worst parts of him.

She said quietly, "Do you remember everything?"

Kael's smile faded. "Enough to know it's not over."

Jorah groaned. "Oh, fantastic. I was hoping for a peaceful ending."

Kael shook his head. "This isn't an ending. It's the start of something else. The world's been rewritten, but the cracks are still there. Something's leaking through."

Eira frowned. "Another timeline?"

"Maybe," Kael said, staring into the fire. "Or something older."

The flames flickered blue for an instant — brief, but sharp.

Kael smirked. "And apparently, it's already watching us."

Jorah tossed his stick aside. "I swear, if this turns into another world-ending quest—"

Kael stood, brushing off his coat. "Then we'll do what we always do."

Eira rose beside him. "What's that?"

He grinned. "Improvise."

---

The wind shifted again — not ominously, just playfully, as if the universe itself were laughing with them this time. The stars overhead rearranged into unfamiliar constellations, and for the first time since the collapse, the air didn't hum with dread — it sang.

Jorah sighed, pulling his cloak tighter. "You know, I'd kill for a boring day."

Eira smiled faintly. "Not with him around."

Kael glanced over his shoulder, his grin sharp and bright. "Boring's overrated."

And as they walked toward the horizon — the newly reborn one — the grass whispered like waves, carrying with it echoes of the past and promises of what was still to come.

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