>>Enya (Original Timeline)

The world was quiet.

Too quiet.

I sat in front of the grave, the once-green earth now blanketed with a layer of snow so thick, I could hardly recognize the landscape. The oak tree's branches were heavy with frost, hanging low, as if mourning with me.

My fingers trembled as I clutched the ancient book in my lap, the brittle pages fluttering in the icy wind. One page lay open, the inked words blurring in my vision—not from the cold, but from the tears that brimmed in my eyes.

The cold bit into my skin, somehow seeping through the thick fabric of my clothes.

Or perhaps it wasn't the cold that I was really.

No, it was definitely something else.

A hollow feeling inside of me. It felt like the ground had opened up beneath me, swallowed me whole, and left me here—staring at that grave as if it held my entire world beneath it.

And it did.

My breath came out in shallow, uneven puffs, visible in the frigid air. I hadn't spoken in hours. Maybe days. The weight of despair pressed down on me, heavy and unrelenting. It was hard to breathe, hard to think. It was as if the snow had covered not just the ground, but my heart as well

The wind whispered through the oak's branches.

My hands tightened on the book, fingers aching from the cold, but I didn't care. The mansion loomed behind me, the frosted windows like hollow eyes watching over this scene of misery. I could feel its presence, cold and indifferent.

A tear slipped down my cheek, freezing almost instantly against my skin.

The snow fell heavier now, each flake landing softly, muting the already suffocating silence. I stared at the grave, the name etched into stone now barely visible through the fresh snow, and wondered if I could simply dissolve into the cold—fade away like the world around me seemed to be doing.

I drew in a shaky breath, clutching the book to my chest, feeling the ache in my heart intensify. This was it. This was the end. The cold. The grave. The silence. There was nothing left.

Nothing.

Except this one hope.

I held the book tightly. This is an ancient book of the fae. And it talks about how a powerful mage is capable of taboo.

The taboo of turning back time.

I gulped

I was ready to perform an unforgivable sin if I could get back what I had lost.

***

The air in the lab felt thick, charged with the unfamiliar hum of magic being woven, unwoven, and tested. Rows of mages, their faces intent on their scrolls, potions, and other arcane projects, barely glanced up as I entered. The public lab of the magic tower was vast, filled with the soft glow of mana-infused lights and the sharp smell of ink and burning herbs.

I wasn't supposed to be here, and I felt it with every step. But Asael had gotten me in, just like I'd asked.

As I stood by the entrance, my eyes scanned the room until they landed on him. The tower master. He stood out in the sea of mages, not just because of his presence—though that was undeniable, he was beautiful—but also because he looked... different.

Worn out

He moved from station to station, offering brief comments to the junior mages, his voice low and detached. There was a listlessness to his movements, as if every step, every word, took more effort than it should. Yet, even in his exhaustion, there was no denying his beauty. It was the kind of beauty that drew the eye, sharp and graceful, like a figure carved from marble. But now, cracks were showing. The dark circles beneath his eyes, the slump in his shoulders—he was a man on the edge.

I watched as he stopped at one of the worktables, where a young mage was hunched over a scroll. His eyes flicked over the work, and without a word, he picked it up. For a moment, he just stared at it, his expression darkening.

Then, without ceremony, he tore it in half. The ripping sound echoed across the room, and the mage flinched but said nothing. No one did.

The tower master tossed the ruined scroll aside and turned to leave, his face betraying nothing more than quiet misery. He looked like someone who had long since stopped caring about the little things, yet he kept going. Day after day.

Even now, even in this state, he was still doing his job. Barely. But enough to keep the tower running. Enough to keep people from asking too many questions.

He didn't look back as he moved on, leaving behind nothing but a torn scroll and the lingering weight of his presence.

"Asael," I looked at my cousin, "What do you think of the Tower Master?"

He looked at the master's fading figure, "He's powerful," He stated, "But everyone is afraid of him because he looks like he might explode at any moment." He glanced at me, "Take a look around, "All the mages are nervous when he's doing his rounds."

"..." I could tell. As soon as he entered, all the noise ceased.

Not even a single person attempted to speak.

"I heard he was doing fine when he joined though." I was curious.

"He was, but... Over time he kept getting worse and no one knows why." Asael was the only archmage left in the magic tower. His fellow archmages were sent to Hollow Woods but they never returned.

The world is now filled with miasma.

Our cities are surviving because of the shields and everyone is pretending to be normal.

"When I last saw him, A year back, he didn't look this fallen apart..." I was shocked. Anyone could tell that Hael was standing at the edge of the cliff with only his one foot on the rock while the rest of him was dangling ahead.

"A few months ago, he left to go somewhere but when he came back. He looked like he had learned the most destructive news. His face held expressions of pure horror and then he's gotten even worse."

"Do you have any idea where he went?"

"Nobody is sure but I think he went to Althea."

"The elf kingdom?" I frowned

"Yes,"

Why would he go to the eld kingdom-

A thought crossed my mind.

And I knew I only had that thought because I was a person of similar kind.

Hael was far too beautiful to be human.

...

My God,

Does he perhaps have elf blood in him?

***

I owe Asael a lot.

I had him follow Hael to see where he was going. Asael told me Hael left the tower a lot. He also said he would never normally pull this kind of stunt off but the tower master was losing his mind and it was actually easy to follow him without getting noticed.

I glanced up. The sky was barely visible and it was not because of those normal cloudy days. It was because the miasma had taken over the land and now it was taking over the sky.

The wind bit into my skin as I walked through what was left of the estate. There was hardly anything here now—just broken stone, remnants of walls that had long since crumbled, and snow.

Snow covered everything, softening the destruction but making it all the more desolate. It was hard to believe that this place had once been a mansion. Now, it was nothing but ruins, an echo of something long gone.

And there he sat, in the corner of it all, like a ghost among the wreckage.

The Tower Master, Hael. His figure was almost lost in the sea of white, his body still, save for the occasional breath that misted in the cold air. He wasn't dressed for this weather. He wore nothing but his usual dark clothes, no cloak, no gloves—nothing to protect him from the biting chill.

It was like he didn't feel it. Or didn't care.

His eyes were empty, staring straight at the lone tombstone on his left side. He sat with a leg folded while the other one was bent, his hands rested on the knee next to his chest. He didn't even look up as I approached. I could see it now, the grave. It stood in stark contrast to the snow.

I hesitated, the snow crunching softly beneath my boots, before stepping closer. The wind howled around us, but Hael didn't flinch. His face was pale, his eyes held a hollowness that made my chest tighten. He looked so... lost. Not just in this place, but in himself.

It reminded me of myself and I knew I had a chance at this.

I sat down on the other side of the grave, the cold seeping through my clothes as I settled on the frozen ground. I didn't say anything at first. I just sat there, then turned to look at the stone.

???

It was a surprise.

It a black slate with nothing written on it, just like the ruins around us—silent, nameless, forgotten. He was staring at the nameless grave that had captured all of his attention.

"Is this the grave of your beloved?" I asked softly. It was my assumption but I had a strong feeling I was right. I had gone through exactly the same thing after all.

His gaze stayed on the tombstone, "..." And he didn't answer

I looked at him, "You must have really loved her."

"..." He refused to acknowledge my presence. I was most likely a nuisance to him, disturbing a precious moment.

But I was desperate.

"Don't you want to save her?" I looked at him, my voice barely more than a whisper against the wind, but the words struck him. His eyelid twitched, the only sign that he'd heard me.

He finally turned to look at me.

His gaze met mine, and the depth of despair in his eyes almost made me falter. I could feel the weight of it—the loss, the pain, the emptiness that had consumed him. It was like staring into a void.

I gulped

I can't lose here! I can't falter!

"I lost my beloved," I said as I looked him straight in the eyes. I continued, my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. I held his gaze, refusing to look away. "I know what it's like."

"..." He refused to acknowledge me yet again.

He stood up without a word, then he turned and began to walk away, his back to me, leaving me in the cold.

Wait! No! No! No!

I can't let him go. Not yet.

I stood up in a panic, "There is a way to bring her back!" I shouted, the urgency in my voice cutting through the frozen air.

He paused, his steps halting mid-stride. For a long, agonizing moment, he didn't move. The silence stretched on, and I could hear my heart pounding in my ears.

My pupils shook as I kept my eyes on him.

Then, slowly, he turned back to face me. His eyes—were empty, lifeless, as if the very soul had been drained from them.

He looked at me, not with hope, but with something far darker.

"The only reason I didn't kill Asael for following me is because there is no point in doing so." His voice was sharp but his words even sharper, "The world is about to end anyway."

!!!

He knew?

But no wait, it doesn't matter. I can't get scared. The world is about to end? That's all the more reason to do something about it!

"We can change it!" I said, "We can change the fate of the world." I stepped towards him but he didn't move, "Don't you want to save the world?"