Some curses are cruel.
Some are fair.
But the cruelest kind… is the one we call love.
The kiss lingered even after he pulled away.
Not on her lips.
In her soul.
It was as if he had unlocked something—not just desire, but memory. And memory hurt worse than anything.
Anaya didn't speak.
Neither did he.
They just stood there under the trembling stars, caught in that fragile, devastating silence where hearts confess more than words ever can.
Finally, she whispered, "How many times have we done this?"
He looked away. "Seventeen lifetimes."
Her breath left her lungs. "And in each one… I forget?"
Caelum nodded. "Not always. But always before the last night."
"And then I die."
"Yes."
She shook her head, eyes glassy. "Why do I keep choosing this? Why do I keep finding you only to lose you again?"
Caelum stepped forward. "Because the soul doesn't obey logic. It obeys… longing."
Anaya closed her eyes.
Seventeen lifetimes.
Seventeen deaths.
One love.
And now—this life. The eighteenth. The last thread.
The 21st night is always the last.
"Caelum," she whispered. "If I remember everything before the 21st… what happens?"
His gaze sharpened.
"Then we get one chance," he said. "To break it. To choose a new ending."
"But?"
"But if you remember too early… the Others will sense it."
"Who?"
His jaw tightened. "The ones who cursed us."
Flashback Fragment – 17th Life
A circle of robed figures. A throne made of stars.
And Caelum—bound in silver chains, wings torn and eyes burning.
Anaya—on her knees, blood on her lips, shouting into the void.
"He is mine! I will not forget him!"
"Then you shall die until you do," the voice echoed from the dark.
Present
Anaya staggered back. "I heard them," she said. "Just now. In my head."
Caelum caught her arms. "They've begun to awaken. You're too close to the truth."
She looked into his eyes—haunted and bright like comets too near their end.
"Then tell me everything," she said. "Right here. Right now. No more riddles."
He hesitated.
Then, slowly, he lifted her hand—still wearing the black-stoned ring.
He pressed it to his chest.
A sharp pulse echoed through them both—one heartbeat shared between two people not meant to belong to the same world.
And the truth began to unfold.
His voice turned low. Ancient. Unshakable.
"You were the last Soulkeeper. The guardian of endings. You protected memories across lifetimes, storing souls in safe passage."
"And I…" he paused. "I was an Exile. Fallen. Forbidden to love anything mortal."
"But I saw you. And I loved you. Quietly. From afar. Until I couldn't anymore."
"When they found out, they offered you a choice: let me be erased—or bind your soul to mine and risk eternal punishment."
"You chose me."
"So they cursed us. I would remember every lifetime. You would forget. And if ever you remembered before the final night, you would be hunted. By the ones who watch time."
Anaya was crying now.
Not from pain.
From the unbearable beauty of the sacrifice.
"You let me forget you… to protect me?"
"Yes," he whispered. "Every time. And each time, I watched you die without ever knowing why."
"Why didn't you try harder? Force me to remember sooner?"
His voice broke. "Because if you remembered before your soul was strong enough, they'd find you faster. And this time… they will kill you permanently."
A silence, deep and terrifying.
"So what now?" she asked.
"We prepare," he said, standing. "You have five days until the 21st night. Five days to awaken your full self."
"And how do I do that?"
His eyes met hers—dark and bright.
"By choosing not to run."
Later That Night – Her Dorm Room
Anaya sat on the floor, surrounded by the past.
The ring. The book. The parchment.
She didn't know who she was anymore.
A girl? A lover? A soulkeeper?
But she knew what she felt.
And somewhere in that burning ache was clarity:
She would not die again without knowing the full truth.
She would not let Caelum watch her fade.
Not this time.
She pulled the book toward her. Opened to a blank page.
And with trembling hands, began to write.
If memory is the knife…
Then let love be the wound.
Let me bleed my name back into my soul.
The locket around her neck gave a soft hum.
A click.
A single gold thread slipped through the seam—alive, glowing faintly.
She touched it.
And somewhere in the distance—
Something woke up.