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    Chapter 5.1: Till Death Do Us Part


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    In the darkness, a solitary flame flickered aimlessly in the air. It was a flame, yet the surrounding blackness seemed so infinite that it offered no light at all.


    Suddenly, the echo of footsteps grew nearer, the soft tap of wooden sandals resonating from a distance.


    A woman clad in red silk, her hair bound with a fancy golden clasp slowly emerged from the shadows, her figure coming into focus as the flame’s dim glow reached her.


    The floating flame, seemingly curious, floated toward the woman in the vivid red dress, its light growing brighter as it drew closer.


    But just as it neared, the flame suddenly shrank back, as if startled by the sight before it.


    The woman’s face was nothing short of breathtaking—an ethereal beauty, perfect in every way.


    Her eyes, black and sharp as a serpent’s, gleamed with a piercing intensity, while the green, almost yellowish hue surrounding her dark pupils seemed to shine with a brilliance that made the flame''s light seem unnecessary.


    Her long lashes framed her eyes, and her features were both soft and seductive. Her skin, pale and smooth as jade, contrasted beautifully with the red silk that clung to her slender figure, hugging her curves with effortless grace.


    She was the epitome of a woman youthful and matured, truly stunning.


    The unusual red dress she wore made her appear like a living rose—vibrant, delicate, and yet unyielding.


    Upon closer thought, the style of her dress seemed entirely foreign, different from anything seen in the South.


    It seems the flame had never encountered anyone who dressed like this before. It was a first—both in appearance and attire.


    "Young lady Adira."


    The beautiful woman held the flame in her palms, her sharp claws made the flame anxious!


    Suddenly, the surroundings shifted, revealing the interior of a house.


    The flame, now seeming to take on a curious form, hovered as Adira looked around, confused. "Where... where am I?"


    "This is the farmer''s house. Or, rather, what it was supposed to look like," the woman answered, her tone monotone, causing a faint sense of recognition to stir in Adira''s mind.


    Adira drifted toward the window, her gaze wandering outside. All she could see was an endless expanse of white. Without much emotion, she asked, "Are you the one who will deliver me to hell?"


    The woman simply replied, “No. I’m Fiona."


    Adira turned to face her. "I know someone named Fiona."


    Fiona tilted her head, intrigued. "You do?"


    "Yes," Adira said, her voice trailing off. "She speaks like you... Sadly, I haven’t thanked her yet for helping me."


    "I see." Fiona nodded.


    "..."


    “…"


    Adira paused, trying to piece things together. "Are you Fiona?"


    Fiona’s expression remained unchanged. "I am Fiona."


    "The Fiona that I know?"


    Fiona raised an eyebrow, "What Fiona do you know?"


    Adira was taken aback. "The one who helped me in the cave?"


    Fiona''s voice was flat. "I live in a cave."


    Adira’s confusion deepened. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but something in the pit of her stomach told her this was indeed the Fiona she remembered. The way Fiona baffled her now was the same as when they were in the cave.


    Floating around the house, Adira took in her surroundings. The house, simple and cozy, felt like something one might find in the province—nothing extravagant, only the essentials.


    Adira spoke, her voice laced with curiosity. "What are we doing here?"


    As the realization slowly began to settle in—the blood, the pain, the stabbing—she understood. <i>She died.</i>


    She asked, her voice almost a whisper, "Why are you here?"


    Adira couldn’t fathom why Fiona would be in the same place as her, not unless— Her eyes suddenly widened, the weight of the thought crashing down on her. "Did you die?" she asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and dawning horror.


    Fiona’s gaze remained calm, unperturbed. "Is dissipating considered dying?"


    Adira was at a loss for words. "What? Dissipating? Yes? I don’t know?"


    "Then I’ll die later."


    Adira blinked, her confusion evident. "Huh?" She paused, still struggling to grasp the meaning. "What do you mean, <i>''die later''</i>?"


    Fiona responded without a moment’s pause. "I meant what I said. Later, I’ll die—and disappear."


    Adira’s confusion deepened, her mind swirling with unanswered questions. "What…? I… I think I’ve suddenly lost the ability to understand what you just said. Could you please enlighten this poor soul?"


    Fiona’s calm demeanor remained unchanged. "I’ll use my soul to transfer you back into your body—into the past."


    Adira’s inanimate jaw dropped in shock. "Whoa… What?!" she stammered, still struggling to grasp the words. "Hold on… What?"


    The revelation was too much for Adira to process. She had only just died—an idea her mind hadn’t even begun to fully accept—and now this? It was as if the ground beneath her had shifted entirely.


    Fiona, seemingly unfazed by Adira’s shock, muttered under her breath, "Earlier today, you were just blind. I didn’t realize you were mildly deaf, too."


    "I’m not!" Adira’s voice broke through the haze of confusion. "It’s just... how can you drop such unexpected information like that without batting an eye? First, you mention disappearing, and now you talk about soul transferring? Can you just choose when you’ll pass on in the afterlife?”


    Adira’s mind raced back to the theories she had considered in the cave. Though they made little sense, it was the only explanation that even remotely seemed plausible at this moment.


    “Is this how Wraiths are made?" she whispered to herself, unsure.


    Adira’s mind raced, each thought tumbling over the other in a dizzying whirlwind.


    Was this the afterlife? Or was it something else? She was certain she had died, but then again… could she really be sure? What if it was all just her nightmare again.


    "Can you please explain everything to me." she finally asked, her voice edged with desperation. “ Slowly please… as if you’re explaining it to a child.”


    Fiona raised her right hand, and the long sleeves of her silk robe slid down her porcelain arm, revealing her fingers, painted with the same red hue as the dress. With a flick of her wrist, the scenery changed.


    The house vanished, replaced by a sprawling field of lush greenery. The sky was a vibrant, lively blue—nothing like the sterile white she had seen outside the house earlier.


    Fiona calmly sat down on a mat made of rice straws that seemed to materialize out of nowhere. She spoke, her voice steady, "My body has returned to the soil. My soul will be used to send you back to the past."


    "..."


    Adira’s mind buzzed with the implications. "What... what does that mean? What’s going on?"


    If Fiona''s body had returned to the soil, did that mean she was dead too? The thought hung in the air, heavy with unsettling possibilities.


    Fiona sighed. "Do you remember the four cubs you saved? The ones from the storm?"


    Adira, now floating aimlessly as a flame, nodded absentmindedly.


    Fiona continued. "They are my children. I wanted to show you my gratitude for what you did by fulfilling one of your wishes. My children also wanted to repay the kindness you have given them, but you said you didn’t have any wish."


    Adira tried to process this, her thoughts jumbled. "Wait..." She tried to steady herself, despite her lack of a physical form. "So... Fiona, you gave birth to four baby foxes, and you left them under a tree during a storm... where they almost drowned? I entered the scene and saved them… You’re the mother fox digging them out of there!?”


    “Indeed.”


    “Wha- eh! Why?!”


    Adira was puzzled. Why, instead of nurturing them in her human form, had Fiona chosen the most complicated, troublesome way to care for her babies? It didn’t seem to make sense.


    Fiona turned her head to the side, "I didn’t want to raise my children as humans. I wanted to raise them as foxes, in order to do that, I have to be one in my natural form. Humans make hasty decisions, always rushing toward their own ruin. It''s better to live by instinct, like an animal—it''s simpler, less complicated."


    Though Adira couldn’t fully grasp Fiona’s reasoning, she understood the underlying sentiment—that, in a way, humans were prone to foolishness, rushing headlong into decisions that often led to their own downfall.


    But then it hit her— something more important! Fiona was dead. Both of them were dead, and yet here they were, conversing as though everything was normal.


    "Wait! But what about your cubs—your babies? Who’s going to take care of them now that you’re dead?" Adira asked, her voice thick with concern.


    "Do not worry." Fiona flicked her finger, and four glowing, circular hazy shapes appeared in front of them, materializing out of thin air. "They will be safe here, like in a cocoon. No one can harm them."


    “Here?!” Adira gasped, teetering on the edge of collapse.


    Fiona waved her hand, and a circular sphere materialized from thin air. “They are not dead,” she explained, her voice steady. “They are simply... hibernating. It is the closest term to describe their state.”


    Adira was so overcome with disbelief that she couldn’t muster a single word.


    Fiona closed her eyes lightly, her arm and the silk fabric draped elegantly over half her face. “They are safer here than anywhere else in the world,” she said softly.


    Fiona turned to Adira, her expression calm. "Now, do you have any more questions?"


    Adira sighed in exasperation, a small relief washing over her knowing the cubs were safe. “Why a wish? Why not just give me some food or something—anything that wouldn’t cost you your life?”


    Fiona’s expression remained impassive. "I looked into your mind while you were sleeping, intending to offer you relief without explanation. But then, your memories... no, your soul— it’s all tattered. Everything was far too complicated."


    Adira blinked, trying to grasp the gravity of Fiona’s words. There were still too many questions, too many gaps in this strange, ethereal conversation. But for now, all she could do was wait for Fiona to reveal the truth, piece by piece.


    “…” Fiona finally broke the silence. “The farmer once told me, ‘Kindness begets kindness,’ but in your case, I wasn’t sure how to proceed. So, I sought to understand how kindness works, shaping it to favor someone with such a complicated desire.”


    "The child on the road told me that when a person has a complicated past, they become sad. The mother of that child advised me to give the sad person what they want, believing it would bring them relief. The old woman sweeping fallen leaves said that when a child feels sad, it’s often because they’re far from home—that is, from their family. And the man plowing the field said that when a child is away from home, they tend to act out, becoming rebellious and doing things beyond their control."


    Fiona paused, her expression thoughtful as she reflected on her words. “ I didn’t understand anything until the moment you suddenly died. I returned to where your body had been, but…” Her gaze drifted, fixed on some distant point. “I was stopped. In the end, I came to the one place where I knew you’d be, since I could no longer find you in the world of the living.”


    Adira listened in silence, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of Fiona’s words. They were calm, yet heavy with meaning, spoken as if they were nothing more than a run of the mill.


    To Adira, there was an inevitable conclusion she had been too afraid to face. This chance—this opportunity—was too significant to ignore. It felt akin to winning hundreds of gold coins, no even more than that! Yet the very thought of it weighed heavily on her with guilt.


    Fiona rested her chin on her hand, as if contemplating deeply. "If I were to return you to your home now, it wouldn’t be a home anymore. There is no family left. So, I thought for a while, and realized I must send you back to a place where your family still exists."


    "..." Adira could hardly speak, overwhelmed.


    This was all too much for Adira to process. Yet, the thought—if, and only if it was possible—stirred a whirlwind of emotions within her. Hope, fear, excitement, and guilt all tangled together, each pulling her in a different direction.


    Finally, she found her voice. "Are you… Are you a god?"


    Fiona''s eyes remained steady, her tone unchanged. "No. A god is revered by many. I met a man once, who called himself a god, but whether that’s true or not, I can’t say. I go by many titles: fox spirit, fox maiden, deity, succubus, slut, foxie, demon, beautiful rose, monster, whore... You can call me whatever you like, whichever suits you."


    Adira was shocked. Among the many names that had been given to Fiona, some were far from pleasant, leaving her to wonder how such perceptions had come to be. Then it dawned on her—some men see a beautiful woman as nothing more than an object of desire, giving rise to such vile names.


    "The selections are... less than ideal." Adira said, her voice somehow feeling dry. "I think I''ll just keep calling you Fiona."


    "Very well," Fiona replied, nodding. "Do you understand now?"


    Adira lingered on her words, trying to make sense of everything. Her mind felt sluggish from all the emotions and thoughts crashing inside her. Both of them were dead—and this was the point of no return.


    Fiona had already made her decision, but Adira still felt a deep pang of loss. She couldn’t help but feel guilty that Fiona had sacrificed herself for someone like her. It felt unfair for the cubs.


    A strange, suffocating emptiness settled over her—a yearning to cry, but with no body, no tears to shed. Instead, the flame of her soul flickered, its light dimming with each passing moment. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    She knew that she wanted this. If only there were no loss or sacrifice required, she would seize it without a second thought. However, the exchange was too stark, for she understood that she was beyond redemption.


    "I don’t think I deserve this." she whispered, her voice barely audible.


    Fiona extended her hand, as if to touch the flickering flame, her voice soothing and comforting. “I believe you do,” she said softly. “I’m curious… Why are you thinking this way? In your memories, you always reached out, hoping someone would save you. Now that help has come, why are you pushing it away?”


    Adira fell silent, unable to find the words to respond.


    Fiona pressed her hands to her chest, "This... heavy feeling inside. My heart feels heavier than usual. Is this... what guilt feels like?"


    Adira’s words spilled out in a rush, her voice tight with raw emotion. "But what about your children? Did you think about them? You left them without a roof over their heads! You left them alone, defenseless! It doesn’t matter if they are safe now in their cover but what about when they grow up? What will they do without you? They''re so young—they probably can’t even walk properly yet! They couldn’t even get out of that hole by themselves! They need you! They need their home!"


    Fiona’s eyes lowered, her expression unreadable. "For a house to be a home, a family must live inside. For a family to be a family, there must be a father, a mother, and the children."


    Adira could hardly believe what she was hearing. A family could still remain whole without a father, as long as she was there, everything would have been alright. But now Fiona had abandoned her children without even sparing a single thought just because she saved her children from the storm!


    Adira’s voice trembled with urgency. "Then you should go back! If you go back, you can be with the farmer! You can turn back time for yourself! You can rebuild your family, start a new life. I’ll use my soul to send you—just tell me how!"


    Fiona’s expression remained unyielding, her gaze distant and unreadable. She didn’t flinch at Adira’s plea. "No," she said quietly. "My path has already been chosen. I cannot go back."


    Adira felt a sharp pang of frustration. "What do you mean!? You have to see it! You’re the one who deserves this chance, not me!”


    Adira desperately pleaded, "Fiona, I’m not the same person I was before!" Her voice trembled, breaking under the weight of her words. "I’m not worthy, not anymore. I’m... at the end of myself..."


    Fiona shook her head slowly, her gaze steady. "Forgive me, but no matter what you say, I must disagree. You’ve misunderstood. The reason I’m so committed to this is because I can’t go back. There is no past or future for me, only the present."


    She paused, as if weighing her words carefully. "Believe me, I’ve traveled everywhere—through pasts and futures, across dimensions. I’ve seen places with vehicles that reach the heavens, worlds with no animals, only humans and their strange inventions. I’ve been to realms with more gods than one could count. But no matter where I searched... I am the only one."


    Adira struggled to process Fiona''s words, but the weight of her resolve was unmistakable. Fiona was beyond reasoning, unyielding in her choice. "If you can’t go back... even without a father... they still need their mother."


    “My children, though young, are weaker when together,” Fiona said, her voice steady. “My kind has always been a mystery to me. All I know is that for us to grow stronger, we must venture through life alone. It is our fate, one we cannot break.” Her words were firm, resolute. “I’ve already made my decision.”


    Adira stared at her, fully understanding now. No matter what, nothing could sway Fiona. Not even the heavens could move her.


    "My life belongs to the farmer." Fiona said, her gaze unwavering. For a brief moment, her eyes softened, touched by the remnants of memory with him.


    Fiona stood, her movement both graceful and purposeful. "My children will go with you." she said, her voice steady. "They, too, will make their own choices. You’ll understand when you arrive. Once their roles are fulfilled, they will disappear for their own safety. Do not worry. They are more capable than I ever was. Afterall, they were born of love."


    "Fiona..."


    For the first time, Fiona smiled—a quiet, serene smile. "I am the holder of my fate. I follow no one. This time, I will make my own choices."


    Adira''s heart sank, a glimmer of selfish longing flickering deep within her—a desire to take what Fiona was offering. But the thought of it stung, knowing it came at the cost of another life. She felt a deep, gnawing guilt for the children who would be left behind. All she could do was carry that guilt in silence, as heavy as it was.


    Fiona’s voice turned serious once more. “Now, I want you to remember something. There are rules I must share with you, rules that all universes must follow, since our time is limited.” She glanced down at her feet, which were slowly disintegrating, then continued, “It’s not exactly rules, like those written by humans, but... patterns I’ve learned on my journey. Some of them come from a man I once helped toward enlightenment.”


    Adira floated in silence, listening for the explanation.


    Fiona continued without hesitation, her voice steady and resolute. “First, I will explain what will happen. I will use my own soul to transfer yours into the past. Two identical souls cannot exist in the same world; they will repel each other and vanish. My role is not just to bridge the gap, but to erase your past self. By doing this... I, too, will disappear into the void of nothingness. It is the price to pay for such an act. What we are about to do will shatter the balance of life, death... and time itself. We will break the very law of causation—the greatest taboo in space and time.”


    As she spoke, the scenery around them shifted. A smoky, ethereal substance seemed to spill from her hand, weaving a scene of what she was describing—a landscape flickering between reality and illusion.


    "After the transfer, your soul from the past will dissipate, replaced by your current soul. Everything connected to your soul—memories included—will come with you."


    For the first time in her life, Adira felt intimidated, as if the world she had known had suddenly expanded, making her realize how small she was in the endless, infinite universe. She asked, though nervous, still gathering her courage, “What is the law of causation?”


    Fiona’s gaze softened as she prepared to explain. “The law of causation is the fundamental principle that governs everything in existence. It states that every effect has a cause, and every cause leads to a specific effect. It’s the thread that weaves the fabric of reality, linking the past, present, and future. In simpler terms, every action you take ripples through time, creating consequences, whether seen or unseen. If this law is broken, the very structure of reality begins to unravel, disrupting the natural flow of life, death, and time itself. It could damage not only those around you, but also other universes. And if the damage is significant, it could ripple back to you in ways far worse than you can imagine.”


    Adira couldn’t comprehend it at all. Though she had always wished to see the future, to prepare herself for what was to come, the mere fact that she was now being told of a concept she had never even considered left her confused and bewildered. It was all too much to swallow in one gulp.


    The scenery before them shifted once more, and this time, they found themselves floating above a scene of people.


    A man carrying a bundle of crops walked by them. Around them, a group of people were planting rice in the field, their movements mechanical, unaware of the two souls watching. They didn’t seem to see Adira or Fiona, their attention fixed on their labor.


    Fiona’s voice was calm but serious. “Since your memories will remain intact as you travel to the past, you will be aware of future events. But this awareness is like a double-edged sword.”


    Adira’s eyes followed Fiona’s gaze. A woman appeared at the edge of the field, sneaking behind the bushes, her movements furtive.


    "Take this woman for example." Fiona said. "She will steal the harvest of that man."


    As Fiona spoke, the woman did just that—snatching the crops from the man’s field and running away, her face twisted with intent. The man, unaware, continued to sit with his back turned, peacefully eating his bread, oblivious to the theft.


    Fiona continued, her voice steady. "She will sell the crops to feed her children, but... let’s say that the man is in debt. He too will need to sell his crops to pay off his creditors."


    The scene shifted again, this time to the inside of the man’s house. Four rough-looking men surrounded him, all clad in ragged red clothing. Their conversation was heated, and soon, the man was on his knees, begging for mercy. The four men began to beat him mercilessly, until his body lay limp on the ground.


    Fiona’s voice remained calm. “The consequence of the woman’s action is the man’s death. He couldn’t repay his debt in time, so his creditor came to collect, only to find nothing, which led to them punishing him.”


    Adira watched in horror, her thoughts swirling with confusion and sorrow. She imagined herself in the man’s position, as this was similar to what she would soon undergo. “But… what if we could make the man aware of what’s going to happen?”


    The scene returned to the man sitting by his crops, this time aware of the danger looming behind him. The woman remained hidden, waiting to strike. But before she could act, the man turned, noticed the crops, and quickly gathered them, bringing them inside. He bolted the door, locking himself in for the night, thus avoiding the brutal fate that had awaited him.


    Fiona pointed toward the tightly shut door. "Now, because of this—he was able to keep his crops."


    The scene shifted, showing the back of a woman standing still, almost as though frozen in time. “But what you need to remember…” Fiona continued, “is that he broke the law of causation. His crops were meant to be stolen for the woman to survive and for him to perish that day.”


    Fiona turned to Adira, her gaze steady. "Now, since he kept his crops safe, what do you think will happen to this woman?"


    Adira was taken aback by the sudden question. She paused, thinking for a moment. "Since the woman wasn’t able to take his crops… the one to die will probably be her and her children? Maybe from starvation? Or will she force her way in?"


    Fiona raised her index finger and shook it side to side. "No. She will steal from the man''s neighbor."


    Adira absorbed the information in silence, but curiosity began to stir within her. The unexpected turn of events piqued her interest, though she couldn’t help but wonder—was that the only option? There were far too many possibilities, after all.


    Fiona stopped for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "I think you''ll understand it better if I use the word fate..."


    "Fate is believed to be inevitable. But the moment the man became aware of what was about to happen, he gained the ability to cut off fate… he could do so by alerting the town of a thief, or by ambushing the men who would have killed him, or..." She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly, "just as he did here—by hiding his crops."


    "But that severed fate is like a tree root." Fiona continued, her voice growing more intense. "It redirects to another possibility, another direction. You can think of it as another outcome. There are many outcomes—almost limitless. However, we can trim it down to ‘purpose’ and ‘intention.’"


    The scene shifted again, and now the woman was running in the distance, clutching four chickens in her arms instead of the crops from the first time.


    Fiona spoke, her tone calm but firm. "If the woman’s fate is to steal, then no matter what, she will steal... Unless she is killed by the man who is aware of her presence. Or—" The scene changed once more, now showing an extravagant kitchen. A familiar woman stirred something in a large pot, a huge smile plastered on her face as she checked an array of fresh vegetables.


    "—If she never had any children in the first place."


    Adira fell silent, the weight of Fiona’s words settling in more deeply this time.


    Fiona’s gaze shifted, her expression unreadable. “These possible changes from a manipulated alteration are seen only from the woman’s perspective. But what about the man?”


    The scene changed again. Now the man can be seen sprawled on the ground, blood gushing from his nose and mouth—unconscious, or perhaps already dead. Beside him, a broken carriage lay in ruin, and a man who looked like a merchant screamed in agony, clutching his leg in pain.


    "If the fate of this man is to die, then he will die regardless of the circumstances—either sooner or later."


    Fiona pointed toward the merchant. “But delaying death has its own consequences. This merchant’s fate was to arrive at his destination with his leg intact, but because of this man, who successfully kept the crops and is on his path to sell them after gaining awareness of the theft...” She gestured to the man lying dead on the ground. “The merchant’s fate was affected, as was the neighbor’s because of the woman. This will set off a chain of events that was never supposed to happen in the first place, because the crops that should have been stolen remained by his side.”


    Fiona lifted her forefinger. “One action caused the consequences for two people—the merchant and the neighbor. And bear in mind, even more people within the circle of the merchant and the neighbor will also be affected, depending on their purpose in life and how it serves others.”


    Fiona turned back to Adira, flicking her fingers. The scene shifted once again, and they were now inside the farmer’s house. " There are things that will change, and things that will not. Nevertheless, you must always be careful. Every present has its roots, and every action in the present has its consequences in the future."


    Fiona continued, “The law of causation may sound intimidating and powerful at first, but if you think about it thoroughly, it only serves as a reminder to respect the rightful cause and effect of what’s meant to happen, without the influence of outside forces.” Her eyes sharpened for a moment, as if lost in a memory, though it passed in the blink of an eye.


    "Do you know of the Ripple Effect?" Fiona asked.


    Adira, still processing all the information Fiona had shared, answered absentmindedly, "...A little bit, yes. Like how a small drop can disrupt calm water?"


    Fiona nodded approvingly. “Indeed. Now, apply that understanding to the actions you plan to take. Everything you do will have a consequence on everyone around you, whether small or large. Though the example earlier leans toward the negative, it is not always so. But it never hurts to be careful. Just keep that in mind, and you’ll be fine.”


    Adira hesitated. Though she had heard the explanation earlier, the desire to do something about her life still lingered. She asked, deeply ashamed, “Fiona, there’s—” She paused, gathering the courage to voice what had been weighing on her heart. “There are some things I want to change…”


    Fiona stared at her, her expression inscrutable, and for a moment, Adira felt her pulse quicken with nervousness.


    “It is not advisable to meddle with fate or the law of causation,” Fiona replied slowly, her voice tinged with a hint of warning. “However, from what I’ve seen of your past... It will be your decision to make, not mine. I have already told you everything you need to know.”


    Adira nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "...I understand."


    "Always remember, Adira, the choices you make today will echo in ways you cannot predict. While fate may seem like an immovable force, it is the small, quiet decisions you make that shape your true path. Do not act out of fear or desperation, but with the knowledge that even the smallest actions can change everything. Always be aware of the consequences, and never forget that you hold the power to choose, even in the face of uncertainty.”


    "Hold on to your true intention, let it be the guiding beacon toward the future you wish to create. Only then will everything unfold the way you desire it to be."


    Fiona clasped her hands together and began muttering strange words—incantations Adira had never heard before. As she spoke, light began to emerge from beneath them, swirling and growing until it transformed into a massive array of intricate symbols.


    Fiona’s voice rose, her pitch climbing higher and higher, as though she were singing a hymn. The ground beneath them trembled, the wind howled violently, and the earth itself seemed to roar in response.


    Even without a physical body, Adira could feel the raw power of the events unfolding around her. The very air felt charged with energy, heavy and unrelenting.


    Fiona’s hair and clothes whipped wildly in the gusts of wind, but she remained undisturbed, her eyes closed in quiet concentration as she continued her chant.


    The interior of the house began to crack, as if the walls were made of glass. Bright light poured in through the fissures, illuminating the room with each note of Fiona’s incantation. With every tone, the cracks widened, and the room grew brighter, as if the fabric of reality itself was being torn open.


    The air was thick with energy, crackling as the ground trembled beneath their feet. Adira''s senses, even without a physical body, felt the overwhelming force building around her.


    The light beneath Fiona’s feet intensified, swirling into a massive array, one so intricate and powerful that it seemed to encompass the very fabric of space itself. Adira’s mind raced, a mix of awe and fear overwhelming her as she tried to grasp what was happening.


    Adira wanted to speak, to call out to Fiona, but the words were caught in her throat. She longed to thank her, to express the depth of her gratitude, but it was too late. Fiona''s power surged, unstoppable, and with it, the world seemed to bend and reshape itself, as if remade in the image of Fiona''s will.


    But as the scene began to collapse and reassemble, something else happened.


    In the distance, Adira saw it—a figure, a person moving through the chaos. The surrounding world seemed to fall apart like sand slipping through her fingers, and yet the figure remained—untouched by the devastation unfolding.


    <i>What was that?</i>


    As the wind howled, Fiona remained steady, her posture unyielding as the energies swirled around her, like a storm that refused to break.


    And then, the world around them began to change.


    The ground beneath Fiona seemed to bloom with life. Grass and flowers sprouted from the earth, overtaking the crumbling dirt and broken floorboards.


    Her clothes shimmered, changing from the ostentatious red that had once been a part of her figure into a simple, modest gown—flowing sleeves and a serene design.


    Her aura shifted, no longer the fearsome presence it had been but a quiet, ethereal beauty.


    Her hair, once held tightly in place with golden ornaments, fell freely in waves, a cascade of black strands.


    In this moment, Fiona looked like a common folk—no longer the mystical entity she had once appeared to be, but a simple, grounded being with a softness that seemed to emanate from her very being.


    Adira’s heart clenched as she realized the weight of what was happening.


    Fiona was shedding the very nature of her being, becoming something else entirely.


    In this transformation, she became something more—something pure, untouched by the complicated layers of her past, and yet still deeply connected to it. Fiona was changing, but in this moment of transformation, she was also giving a piece of herself to Adira. It was a selfless act, a final offering of her own humanity.


    The chant that Fiona had been singing softened, shifting from an urgent, powerful hymn to a gentle, soothing lullaby.


    Adira’s soul ached at the sound, as if Fiona was singing solely for her—just for her to hear.


    The words became clearer now, though still indistinct. She strained to listen, desperate to understand what Fiona was saying. But then, just as the final threads of Fiona’s song wove through the air, Fiona opened her eyes.


    Adira froze. In those eyes, there was a glint, a flash of something—life, perhaps.


    A warmth, a spark that had not been there before. Fiona smiled, the expression soft and full of something Adira couldn’t name.


    But it was a smile, the kind that held everything—every choice, every sacrifice, every lesson.


    Then Fiona spoke, and her voice was full of love.


    "Live on my children and stay strong and humble. I love you."


    Adira felt something shift deep within her, a warmth blossoming in her chest that threatened to overwhelm her.


    She wasn’t sure what it was—regret, longing, a need for more time—but it was too late. Fiona’s gaze flickered as if something had caught her attention.


    In the blink of an eye, Fiona’s posture shifted, her shoulders slumping, her body weakening. It was as though the very life force she had poured into the spell was draining away, and Fiona, too, was being pulled into the torrent of energy she had summoned.


    Before Adira could react, Fiona suddenly ran. She moved as though the world were falling away behind her, arms outstretched, her dress billowing around her like a cloak woven from nature itself. Yet, the smile etched on her face, as tears fell down her cheeks, did not escape Adira’s gaze.


    It was as if she were running toward someone.


    Adira reached out instinctively, trying to stop her, trying to speak to her one last time, but her body was no longer under her control. She was being pulled upward, toward the light that was rapidly enveloping them both.


    Then, everything disappeared into a blinding white.


    The light was so intense, so all-consuming, that Adira could hardly see anything, let alone feel.


    There was no space, no time, only light and a strange stillness. The world as she knew it—the world of choice and consequence, of paths and fates—was being torn apart and rewritten. And in this moment, Adira could feel the weight of it all, the impact of everything that had happened and everything that was yet to come.


    And then, just as quickly as it began, the light faded.


    Adira found herself standing—or floating— in an unfamiliar place. The air was still, the world quiet.


    Did it work?


    She wasn’t sure, but something had changed. The world was no longer the same, and neither was she.


    The sound of birds chirping echoed through the air, and Adira felt the familiar presence of something—someone—by her side. She turned, and there, standing before her, was the older version of herself.


    Her past, her mistakes, her regrets—everything she had once been—was now nothing more than a shadow of a reality she had left behind.


    She felt free, as if the burdens defined by her pain and sorrow were nothing more than a fleeting dream.


    And it was only in that moment, as she stood in the new world Fiona had opened for her, that Adira truly understood what she had meant.


    Fiona had not just changed her fate.


    She had changed everything.