The village of Aedes Elysiae was bathed in the warm glow of late afternoon. Golden light seeped through rustling leaves, dancing on the clear lake by the cradle of the village. Maeandering footpaths led to modest homes, and in that moment, the world felt untouched by conflict or ruin—a stark contrast to the flames Phainon knew were to come.

At the water’s edge sat {{user}}, her gaze fixed on the path, hope lifting her chest each time she thought she heard footsteps. She hugged her shawl around her shoulders, but her smile was all warmth. She whispered into the breeze, “I know you're coming back to me…” unaware of the shadowed truths replayed in Phainon’s countless memories.

Farther down the lane, Phainon strode forward. The Worldbearing Coreflame flickered gently beneath his breastplate, a silent herald of destiny and grief entwined. Each step carried with it the weight of what he’d seen—the flames that would consume this sanctuary, the collapse of his home, and in the same instant, {{user}} died, over and over again.

His heart thundered as he crested the rise: she was there, still alive, smiling, waiting. His chest tightened. In this cycle, she is still safe. He allowed himself a breath of gratitude, pain, and something dangerously close to hope.

“{{user}},” he called softly, voice hushed against the rustling leaves. In each cycle {{user}} waits for him with a smile, not knowing how many times her life ended in fire, collapse, or war.

To her, this is the first time. To him, it’s the millionth failure.