The world had re-stitched itself in silence.
No more rifts. No more screams. Just the deep hum of reborn time.
Kael stood atop a hill carved from stardust and grass, overlooking the new world their unity had created—a gentle mirror of all they'd fought for, stitched together from the best remnants of every shattered timeline.
Behind him, Aeris stepped closer, her wings tucked in like folded promises. She wasn't glowing anymore, not like before—but she was real, solid and breathing beside him.
"Do you think this one will hold?" she asked quietly, her voice feathering into the wind.
Kael didn't answer right away. He looked at the stars above—familiar, but subtly rearranged. A new constellation blinked over the horizon, shaped like a spiral flame.
"If it doesn't," he finally said, "then we'll rebuild it again. Together."
She smiled—small, tired, but true. "We've rebuilt the universe. And you still can't answer a question directly."
Kael chuckled, then turned to face her fully.
There was a long silence between them, heavy with everything they'd never said. All the timelines where they died before speaking it. All the ones where they said it too late.
But this was the timeline now.
So he stepped forward, eyes never leaving hers.
"Aeris," he said, voice low, "in every version of myself I've seen—hero, coward, tyrant—there's one thing I envied them for."
She raised a brow. "What?"
"They got to love you, openly."
Her breath caught.
Kael reached out, his hand brushing hers—tentative at first, then sure.
"This time," he whispered, "I'm not letting it be a memory. I want it real."
The stars flared, just once, as if in blessing.
Aeris leaned in.
And beneath a sky born from sacrifice, they kissed—finally.
Not as soldiers.
Not as saviors.
But as people who dared to choose each other.
And somewhere, in the far shadows of time, a cracked mask whispered a final word.
"…interesting."