Freedom was louder than any war.
Aarav felt it the moment he stepped out of Crossfall's transit foldlike static in his bones, like gravity forgetting its manners. The sky above this new world was a chaotic tapestry of auroras and fractured stars, shifting constantly as if unsure what shape it preferred.
"This place is… loud," Mira muttered beside him.
Caelum nodded grimly. "No governing constants. No divine hierarchy. No narrative rails."
Aarav swallowed. "So what's wrong with it?"
Caelum glanced at him. "It asked us to leave."
Aarav blinked. "What?"
Mira activated her scanner. "They sent a multiversal rejection signal. First one ever recorded."
Aarav frowned. "People don't usually reject help."
"People don't usually get to," Caelum replied.
The city below them was immensetowering spires woven from living crystal, rivers flowing upward, bridges made of light. It was breathtaking.
And unstable.
Energy storms rippled across the skyline. Buildings shimmered in and out of phase. Time hiccupped in certain districts.
"This world is collapsing," Mira said.
"And they know it," Caelum added.
Aarav clenched his fists. "Then why would they tell us to leave?"
They descended into the city.
People stared as they arrivednot with fear, but with irritation.
A tall woman with luminous eyes stepped forward.
"You're early," she said.
Aarav blinked. "For what?"
"For when you realize we don't want you here."
Mira bristled. "Your world is destabilizing."
"Yes," the woman replied calmly. "We chose that."
Aarav's heart sank. "Chose… collapse?"
"Chose uncertainty," she corrected. "You ended gods. You ended destiny. You ended inevitability."
She gestured around.
"This is what freedom looks like."
Aarav stared at the flickering skyline.
"It looks like it's killing you."
She smiled faintly.
"Everything kills eventually."
Aarav took a step forward. "I can stabilize this place. I can reduce the chaos. Give you time."
She shook her head.
"No."
"No?" he repeated.
"We didn't ask to be saved."
The words cut deeper than any cosmic attack.
Aarav whispered, "But you're going to die."
"Yes."
"And you're okay with that?"
She tilted her head.
"Are you?"
Silence.
Mira whispered, "Aarav…"
He looked at the people around himlaughing, arguing, building strange new structures that defied physics. Some were crying. Some were dancing.
They were afraid.
But they were choosing.
"We don't want a stable universe," the woman said. "We want a real one."
Aarav's chest burned.
"What if your reality collapses tomorrow?"
"Then it does," she said.
"What about your children?"
"They will grow in a world that belongs to them."
Aarav felt the familiar urgethe pull to fix, to hold, to burn himself for strangers.
He closed his eyes.
And let it pass.
Mira stared at him.
"You're not intervening?"
He shook his head slowly.
"They said no."
Caelum exhaled.
"That may be the most dangerous thing you've ever done."
Aarav opened his eyes.
"It's also the first time I didn't play god."
The woman studied him.
"You're different from the stories."
Aarav smiled faintly. "I'm trying to be."
She nodded once.
"Then leave."
Aarav hesitated.
Then bowed.
Not as a savior.
As a guest.
They returned to Crossfall in silence.
Mira finally whispered, "You could have saved them."
Aarav replied, "I could have owned them."
Caelum said quietly, "You're learning."
Aarav leaned against the wall, exhausted.
"I don't get to decide what a good ending is," he said.
"No," Caelum agreed.
"You just make sure they get to choose one."
Aarav closed his eyes.
And for the first time
He didn't feel like a god.
He felt like a person.
And that
That was harder.