"We're here…"
Ethan's voice cracked as the cold wind howled across the mountaintop.
"This is where we trained… three thousand years ago…"
Snow crunched under his boots. His armor, scorched and worn, reflected the dying sun's rays as he knelt and laid Duy's body on the mountain peak—where stone met sky.
"I remember it all now, son… why it had to be this way… why the day I remember… is the day I lose you."
He dug with bare hands, carving a resting place into the frozen earth. Sparks flickered from his palms as he shaped the grave with a mix of power and grief.
When it was done, he gently lowered Duy's body into the ground—wrapped in cloth, marked with fire symbols.
He placed Ren beside the body, hilt down.
"I'll see you in our next life, son…"
Ethan touched the grave one last time, fingers trembling. Then he stood slowly, staring out at the vast horizon—wind whipping through his hair, the clouds glowing red and gold.
A flame flickered in his chest. He closed his eyes.
Silence.
⸻
Meanwhile, Linh stood under a scalding stream of water, unmoving.
The longest shower of her life.
Steam filled the room, but it couldn't cleanse her thoughts. Ethan's voice echoed. Duy's scream. The look in Ethan's eyes when he almost killed her.
She gripped the sink, water dripping from her chin.
He lost everything. And she had almost taken the last thing he had left.
Tears fell freely now.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered. "I care about you… I didn't know what else to do…"
She dried off, dressed in black, and headed to the Council's chambers—her steps silent but heavy.
⸻
The Council's hall was dim, six ancient figures cloaked in shadows.
"You knew who Ethan was… but you didn't tell me," Linh said, voice trembling but firm.
One of the six stepped forward, voice cold.
"We couldn't. Because arcane blood runs in Ethan's veins. If he knows, he'd become too powerful and difficult to control."
Linh's fists clenched. "Ethan said you abandoned Duy."
"We did," another figure admitted. "Ethan favored Duy when he was young. That's why he couldn't pass the final lesson."
"So… is he really immortal?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"Ethan has a brother. We believe he gave the gift of immortality to Duy."
"Believe?" she echoed, eyes narrowing.
"Yes. His brother hides better than Duy. We've never been able to find him. Perhaps he's dead. But he's the one who created the machine. Ethan destroyed his lab when he found out."
"Why?"
"Because Ethan believes in the natural flow of life—and the afterlife. The machine and its experiments… were also extremely unethical."
"…Are you immortal?"
"No. We are reborn—just like Ethan. Every cycle."
Linh's breath caught. A headache pulsed behind her eyes.
"This is so strange… So who am I?" she wondered silently. "Was I reborn too…?"
Without another word, she turned and left.
⸻
At a quiet apartment, Trang stirred a pot of soup.
She waited.
And waited.
The sun had set. No sound came.
Worried, she walked to her boss's room—only to find it empty. The air was still. A folded letter sat on the desk.
Her hands shook as she picked it up.
"Daughter,
I know I wasn't always there for you. And I'm not here with you now.
If you're reading this letter… I've passed on to my next life.
I've reunited with Ethan, my father.
Take care of Mom. Take care of your younger brother.
I know I've kept secrets from you all these years, but please know this:
You are just as special as I am.
Be kind. Be strong. Protect those who cannot protect themselves.
I love you.
Forever your father,
Duy."
Trang's tears fell onto the page.
She dropped to her knees, her sobs filling the quiet room. Her hand slammed against the floor again and again, shaking, broken.
"No, Father… you can't die…"
But the silence said otherwise.
And all she could do was cry—cry for the father she lost, the truth she learned too late, and the fire that now burned in her heart.