Scarlett walked. Just walked.
She didn’t look back. There was no need. She could still sense the presence trailing her through the quiet, borderless nothing. Soon, though, her surroundings shifted as streaks of silver threaded into her peripheral vision. Silent ribbons of light drifted in from the edges, and then, almost abruptly, the void thickened beneath her feet into sothing nearly tangible.
She paused, letting her gaze wander across the newly ford scene.
A half-made bed slouched in one corner, a closet door left slightly ajar beside it. A jumble of laundry spilled over the top of a door, while a row of weathered books sagged along the window ledge. Late sunlight angled through cheap plastic blinds, catching on the battered spines and the chipped rim of a mug abandoned atop a thick paperback.
Not even a year had passed since she’d last truly seen this room, but it might as well have been a lifeti. Even the air slled different. It was faintly stale, tinged with a note of old coffee. The place felt out of joint, as though she no longer belonged there.
She turned, drawn by the soft blue glow flickering from the far side of the room. Her old chair was turned to the computer, a shadowed figure hunched before the monitors just like in the scene she’d glimpsed before. A silhouette of her old self, shoulders slumped, fingers skimming across the keys, bathed in the pale scatter of icons and shifting windows.
Scarlett watched for a while, thoughts moving in slow, strange directions.
“This is what you wished to see, is it not?” she eventually asked.
She glanced sideways, where the presence next to her shifted slightly — Fate, Sarisa, or whatever remained of either, still wearing the face of Amy Bernal. Those golden eyes shone with that sa curiosity, their attention fixed on the figure at the desk.
Scarlett’s gaze lingered on Fate, studying that intent, distant expression. She’d seen how Fate and Ti had lived through their endless cycles. There had been countless worlds, so that nearly echoed her own, but none that quite matched.
Just like ‘The Other’, this room, this person, was new to Fate. And whatever she had once been—whatever death or fracture had left behind this remnant—its hunger for understanding remained. Even to a being who had once spun destinies from starlight, Amy Bernal was sothing unfamiliar. Sothing worth witnessing, apparently.
Scarlett looked back to her forr self, hearing the steady clack of keys, the flicker and shifting blocks of colour on the screen. The images blurred at the edges, always a little out of focus.
She lingered, a sense of displacent rising in her chest as she wondered just how many hours she’d spent in front of those monitors. Nights devoured by gas. The monotonous grind of editing drafts she barely cared for. Mindless TV shows to pass the ti. A life made up of repetition and digital noise, though not one she had minded all that much.
Was this nostalgia? It wasn’t an emotion she experienced often, but now it struck her as surprisingly bittersweet. A reminder of a ti and life so far removed from her present one that she couldn’t really parse it. Of a person who now seed almost fictional compared to who she had beco — even if, objectively, the current Scarlett was more fiction than ever.
She stepped forward, drawn by sothing resembling curiosity of her own. She approached her old self, careful not to disturb the scene, and leaned over her shoulder to see what was happening on the monitors.
And there it was: the familiar interface, the stylised graphics, the clustered minimap and gleaming health bars, the array of tiny icons she’d clicked a thousand tis.
Chronicle of Realms, as the ga had been known in her world.
She really shouldn’t have expected anything else. Of course it would co back to this in the end.
A small, humourless laugh slipped out of her. She let it hang for a mont, head bowed, before turning to face Fate behind her. She regarded the entity, whose eyes were intent on the woman at the desk.
“Does this interest you?” Scarlett asked. “I know you wish to understand , but…there is little to see here. I was an entirely unremarkable person. My hobbies, my friendships, my work — none of it is worth noting. Compared to all that you once shaped and set in motion, my entire life would scarcely qualify as a footnote.”
Fate gave no answer. Her gaze remained fixed and unreadable. Scarlett hadn’t really expected one. Yet, after a while, Fate’s head did turn, golden eyes eting hers.
Scarlett held that gaze, searching for sothing she could na.
Silver shimred at the room’s edges, seeping across the floor and walls like paint. The scene blurred, then peeled away, colours and shapes blending into one another. Scarlett glanced over at the sight.
Now this really was similar to the mories in the Hall of Echoes. She was more certain than ever of the connection.
Soon, a new world slid into place. She was t by the sharp scent of lemon cleaner. The worn texture of a sofa covered by an old blanket. The familiar notch in the doorfra, left from so childhood ga of tag that had gotten out of hand. A living room saturated with the rhythm of everyday life.
Scarlett found herself staring.
She…never thought she’d see this place again. She hadn’t even seen it in her dreams for a long while.
Suddenly, voices sounded from behind her. She turned. Four people—backs to her—were gathered in front of a glowing TV, steeped in its light. Two adults, hair touched with grey, wore matching shirts. A teen girl with long dark hair. And beside her, a younger girl with the sa curls, both laughing at sothing unseen on the screen.
Sothing in Scarlett stirred. It was quiet. Quiet and dulled. But she couldn’t entirely deny its presence.
She glanced at Fate, standing off to the side, head slightly tilted, observing the family, tracking every movent and ripple of laughter. Then she looked back at the scene.
Those had been simple tis. Half-forgotten routines surfaced — takeout pizza on Tuesdays, movie marathons on Fridays, playful squabbles over chores, lazy Sundays sprawled across the couch. Small, gentle rituals coloured by a far-off warmth. Just normal family things. Nothing like the web of duty, politics, and ssed-up noble relationships she’d grown used to as Scarlett. This was an ordinary life untouched by complexity, ambition, or loss.
She watched for a while, losing herself in the mory, until an odd thought snuck up on her. One she’d never consciously entertained before.
What would it have looked like if Evelyne had been there, too?
The two of them would never really be sisters. They might never have anything like a normal relationship. But despite that, it seed Evelyne had sohow word her way into so quiet corner of Scarlett’s subconscious.
Her eyes stayed on the younger girl on the couch, wondering what it might have been like to see her real sister and Evelyne together in a world like this. They should roughly have been the sa age. And though they were very different, in so ways, they were remarkably alike.
…Not that it mattered, in the end. Scarlett didn’t dwell on it often, but by now, she’d mostly let go of any hope of returning to her own world for good. The notion itself wasn’t entirely abandoned, but…it wasn’t what kept her going either.
She honestly wasn’t quite sure what did.
Eventually, she pulled herself back from the mory and towards Fate, just as the world began to shift again. Silver bled across everything, dissolving the living room until they stood together in a broad, dimly lit hall lined with rows of empty chairs. A heavy weight hung in the air.
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The room felt hollow, as if whatever life had once been there had faded. Only two figures stood at the front, side by side before a pair of closed caskets. Scarlett recognised them imdiately, naturally. Her younger self—a recently adult version—stood with one hand on her sister’s trembling shoulder.
Scarlett’s eyes widened quietly as she realised this was the sa scene she’d caught a glimpse of in Beld Thylelion.
A thin, fragile voice broke the silence. “…Why aren’t you crying?”
The Amy in the scene didn’t answer. Eventually, the girl’s small hand pushed away, and she fled, leaving Amy alone before the caskets, her face nearly expressionless.
Scarlett studied her younger self. Looking back, she knew she should have handled that differently. She should have handled a lot of things differently. But at the ti, she hadn’t known what to say. She hadn’t really known what to feel.
She wondered, not for the first ti, whether she would have been any different now, with Scarlett’s traits interwoven into her. Would she have shown the ‘right’ amount of emotion? Would she have known what to say to her sister? Was there even a real line between Amy and Scarlett anymore, or had it all blurred together beyond recognition?
Honestly, she doubted there was an answer at this point. Even if there was, she wasn’t sure she cared anymore.
She turned to Fate, still standing at her side, watching.
“Do you intend to observe every significant mont of my life?” she asked.
As if in response, the world shifted once more.
The scenes continued to unfold.
She saw herself returning to the silent apartnt with her sister. Watched her sister retreat to her room, slamming the door. Watched herself make awkward phone calls to relatives, trying to sort out guardianship and logistics.
There were clipped, stilted conversations with distant family. Legal forms to fill out. Endless tense talks about the future. About money, jobs, and the courses Amy could take while keeping things afloat.
She saw the way her relationship with her sister changed in those first few months. How it grew more brittle and strained, the two of them becoming almost like strangers under the sa roof. Amy wasn’t as patient as she could have been, and her sister was both withdrawn and defiant. Unnecessary argunts about chores, rules, curfews, and schoolwork. Sotis her sister just stopped talking to her for days. Sotis she shouted. To Amy, it didn’t really make sense, but she accepted it for what it was. At night, she could always retreat to her room to relax, losing herself in the world of gas.
Not that it was always conflict. There were plenty of ordinary monts too — late dinners together at the kitchen table, shared in companionable silence. Old movies on the big TV, brief laughter and exchanged jokes breaking the quiet. Amy helping with howork, or offering so small act of care. Scattered, unremarkable instances of sisterhood, weaving their way through the difficult days.
It hadn’t been too bad, in her opinion.
The scenes blurred and changed. Scarlett relived the clumsy ss of her first long-term relationship and its rather fizzling end. She felt again the slightly weary pride of finishing her degree. She rembered her first day at a proper job, and the frustration and anxiety of those early, overwhelming deadlines. There was also the frankly mortifying day her sister brought ho a boy she couldn’t stand, with Amy doing her best not to hover, yet still catching pointed remarks for days after. She saw her sister’s graduation, her moving out for the first ti, and the unfamiliar quiet in their relationship that followed. But there was also a slow renewal, as ti passed and both of them learned to treat each other with more care and honesty. Her sister had apologised for a lot of things during those days. Amy did, too.
Looking back as Scarlett, it all seed almost painfully mundane. In her old world, so friends had called it dramatic. She never thought so. To her, it was just…life. Things happened, good and bad, and she moved on. She never got too swept up in any of it, and in hindsight, that steady distance was part of why her sister found her so frustrating at tis. They had been two very different creatures.
Scarlett did recognise just how little patience she’d have for those sa small troubles if she lived through them now, though. She wouldn’t have tolerated even half of what Amy had, and she would likely have brought a great deal more flair to every conflict because of that.
It was a very interesting, if odd, perspective, seeing it all this way. She couldn’t call the walk down mory lane a gift, exactly, but she could admit—privately—that it felt like one.
Finally, after a blend of scenes spanning most of her adult life, the world lted away and resolved into her old room once more — the small, familiar sanctuary with the soft blue glow of the monitors painting the walls. She found herself standing behind the chair at her desk again, her old self sitting in front of her.
Scarlett glanced at Fate. “Do you have anything to say about my life?” she asked, feeling almost wry.
There was no answer.
She offered a thin smile. “No, I suspected not.”
She turned back to Amy. For a ti, she simply watched her forr self ‘ga’ away. Eventually, her eyes narrowed.
“Is this the final version of you were able to find?” she asked. “Is this just before I beca Scarlett?”
Still, no answer ca. But she found she didn’t need one.
She moved closer, leaning in towards the glowing monitors, studying the screens. Then she froze.
A pop-up had appeared, layered over the ga interface. Plain, black text.
Want to try sothing else?
She frowned. She didn’t rember this.
She kept watching as this version of herself moved the mouse, cursor hovering over ‘No’ for a heartbeat. Then, slowly, Amy dragged the pointer to ‘Yes’ — and clicked.
The scene shattered.
Scarlett was back in the emptiness, with Fate in the shape of Amy facing her.
She was silent for a few breaths, regarding the figure.
“…Do you know what that was?” she asked.
Again, no response. But again, she didn’t need one. She felt like she already knew the answer.
What did startle her, though, was the way Fate’s borrowed face suddenly began to dissolve. The outline went translucent, thinning, lting into a shimr of silver and gold. What remained was the trembling orb of light Scarlett had seen before, and even that now started eroding from within, eaten away by streaks of cold grey and white.
Yet even as the presence faded, Scarlett could sense a gentle, satisfied curiosity radiating from what was left. Almost a final contentnt, tinged with the faintest undercurrent of a request.
“…I know what it is you want,” she said. “I have spoken with Yamina. We will see it done. This ti, you will be put to rest. Fully.”
From the dwindling light, sothing like gratitude welled up, though it was fleeting. It ebbed further, nearly completely gone. Scarlett stepped forward, extending her hand. Slowly, carefully, she let her palm hover above the orb. As she did, the light leapt up to et her, settling in her grasp.
At once, eight system windows snapped into existence, their borders flaring.
[Spark of Divinity (Divine)]
[Spark of Divinity (Divine)]
[Spark of Divinity (Divine)]
[Spark of Divinity (Divine)]
[Spark of Divinity (Divine)]
[Spark of Divinity (Divine)]
[Spark of Divinity (Divine)]
[Spark of Divinity (Divine)]
Not a second later, one window flickered out, leaving four.
Scarlett considered them, then glanced at the fragile spark cupped in her hand. Briefly, she wondered if she could halt its erosion. But even a tentative reach for the Anomalous power feeding on the light told her she couldn’t. She didn’t have any control over this part of the power anymore. The strange, consuming energy had already taken on a life of its own, and it wouldn’t stop until it was spent. All she could do was watch as the system windows winked out, the spark shrinking with each disappearance.
At last, only a sliver remained, no larger than her fingernail. To her surprise, the Anomalous glow guttered out, vanishing before the final trace of gold-silver light. Two [Spark of Divinity] windows remained before her.
Scarlett studied them. She couldn’t help but recall how, way back at the start of this entire ordeal, the main quest for Beld Thylelion had ntioned a single [Spark of Divinity] as a possible side reward. Almost as if the entity behind the system had expected this outco all along.
The thought angered her in a way that all of her dealings with Fate hadn’t. Because by now, she was certain that the system and the Fate of this world were indeed two different things. Different forces, with different origins.
And one of them seed distinctly more calculating to her.
The next ti she and Yamina spoke, there would be answers about certain books.
There was no quest completion notification related to the [Spark of Divinity], but Scarlett was quietly grateful for that, even if it ant forfeiting so skill points.
She looked down at the Spark in her hand. All that remained of what had been Fate’s fracture. The final echo of an entity once known as ‘Sarisa’, though no longer bearing that na.
She considered what to do next. She suspected this spark was exactly what the fire goddess wanted — what Itris had asked her to seek out. According to the system, there were two of them, so perhaps she could give one up and earn the goddess’ favour. Or she could keep both. A single Spark was enough to elevate one of her skills to argent-tier, after all.
At the sa ti…
In her other hand, the large agate that had once been Arlene’s appeared, its swirling core a mix of translucent green and grey.
The Gentleman had asked her for a favour. And while she still wasn’t completely sure what he truly wanted…after everything she had just seen and experienced, she had her suspicions.
Lifting her gaze, Scarlett realised the world had shifted again. She stood once more in a sea of gold, the endless ocean of Fate surrounding her, fractal threads glowing beneath her feet. Yamina was gone, and the rupture at the centre was now a wide, empty gap, but already the rest of Fate was flowing in, slowly erasing the scar.
She stood there for a while. Instinctively, she sensed that she could leave whenever she wished, and so deeper intuition agreed. But she also knew this place didn’t obey normal ti. Here, she could see what would be impossible elsewhere.
She looked down. There was much to do once she left. A lot of things waiting for her in Beld Thylelion.
Until then, though…
A flaming scroll appeared before her, floating gently in the air, covered with primordial script. Scarlett raised the objects in her hands.
Perhaps it was ti to make a few final preparations.
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