The candlelight flickered against the ancient wallpaper of the manor's parlor, shadows curling like ink around the edges of reality. Lila stood at the threshold, her fingers trembling as she clutched the torn edge of her sketchbook. Behind her, the hall stretched endlessly into a haze of time.....paintings shifting with every heartbeat, clocks ticking backward.
Ahead, the piano.
Theo sat at it, his posture rigid, the familiar notes of their song rising from the keys like ghosts. But it was wrong. Slower. Hollowed. Every note seemed to mourn itself.
He didn't look up when she stepped closer.
"You came," he murmured, voice brittle. "Even now."
Lila felt her throat tighten. The weight of choice hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Her memories had returned in shards.....moments of fire, ink, Vincent's sorrowful gaze, the Collector's smile like shattered glass. The ruined manor, her own face reflected in a mirror she no longer recognized. A child's crib. Blood and lullabies.
"Theo," she whispered, and the name alone cracked something in her. "Please... stop. We don't have to play this again."
He finally turned. His eyes were different...older, burdened. Not the bright, laughing eyes of the boy who once chased her through sunlit corridors. These were the eyes of a man who had bartered his soul, and then tried to forget the receipt.
"You think I want this?" he snapped, though the anger didn't reach his voice. "I'm already unraveling, Lila. My music is dying. I can feel it slipping. The deal was supposed to save me."
"It killed you. It will kill you. If we don't......."
"Let it happen?" Theo stood, the bench scraping violently behind him. "Let me die? Is that the future you want to fix?"
She stepped forward, her breath trembling. The shadows around them curled tighter, responding to the rising tension. The ink from her sketchbook began to drip to the floor, forming letters in no language she recognized. Her past and future were bleeding together.
"You think I haven't seen it too?" she whispered. "The house burning. The crib. My hands....covered in ink and blood. Your name carved into stone."
He faltered. "Then why are you here? Why would you come back, just to....."
"Because I love you," she said.
Silence.
Deep Silence ...
After that....
The kind that feels like holding your breath under black water.
He looked away. "Then why ask me to die?"
She moved to him, reaching for his hand. He let her touch it, but his fingers didn't close around hers.
"Because this time, I remember. The price of keeping you is everything. Time collapses. Vincent dies hollow. The Collector wins. And I..." she choked on the words. "I vanish."
Theo's jaw clenched. "You don't know that."
"I do." She lifted her sketchbook. The page turned on its own, revealing a crude, shaking drawing of the manor in flames, and Theo lying at the piano, eyes open, unseeing.
"I drew this. Before I knew what it meant. I think... I think I drew it the last time."
"So you're saying we're in a loop?" he asked. "And I always die."
She nodded.
"And you always forget me," he said bitterly.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
"That's the real price," he said, voice raw. "You remember everything now....but I don't. Not the first time. Not the last. Not ever."
Lila's vision blurred. "Theo, I...."
He grabbed her shoulders, desperate now. "Then break it. This time, choose differently. Don't let me go. Save me. Maybe... maybe that's what the universe wants. For someone to finally fight fate."
His breath was hot against her cheek. His hands, once a refuge, now trembled with need and fear.
"You said you loved me. Prove it."
The room darkened. The Collector's presence bloomed like mold in the walls. The paintings whispered. The shadows grew teeth.
She had seconds.
Her sketchbook turned to a blank page.
A voice inside her head...her own?.....whispered, Draw. Choose.
Her hand hovered over the paper. Two images battled for space.
One: Theo alive, holding her, the manor behind them whole, but reality torn and bleeding. Her face faded.
Two:Theo still, eyes closed at the piano, but the sky outside clear. The house peaceful. A cradle untouched.
She sobbed.
"I can't..."
"Lila. Please. I'm scared."
She looked at him. The boy she loved. The man he became. All the pain, all the fire, all the music.
Her pencil touched the paper.
A shape began to form.
And then she chose......