The cosmic Arbiter's gaze lingered as Rotham stepped forward, the Seed blazing bright in his palm. Each step felt heavier—not from fatigue, but the weight of impossible decisions pressing down on him.
As he moved deeper into the shifting path, memories flared around him—faces of those he loved, moments he treasured, and futures he longed to see. Yet, alongside these glimmered shadows of loss and pain.
A voice echoed—Selin's, distant but steady:
"Every sacrifice echoes through time. It reshapes what was and what could be."
Suddenly, Rotham's vision blurred, replaced by a montage of possible futures:
A version where his closest friend vanished without a trace, lost to the cycles.
Another where Earth was ravaged by wars sparked by a single choice he didn't make.
One where he was alone, the last Archivist, bearing the universe's memory in solitude.
Tears welled in Rotham's eyes, but he knew: this pain was the price of hope.
From the shadows, the Mirrorborn's voice whispered again:
"You're not alone in this. Every version of you has paid—and will pay—the same cost."
Rotham steadied himself, embracing the echoes of sacrifice.
He raised the Seed.
The path ahead glowed fiercely—a beacon forged from loss and determination.
He whispered:
"I accept the cost. For the sake of all futures, I will bear the burden."
The Choice Tree responded, its branches shimmering with new light.
Balance shifted.
And the cycles... began to break.