Orion’s heart raced as he ran through the empty streets, the air biting at his skin, his breath heavy with urgency. In the dream, everything had clicked into place. He saw it all—his past, your past—through your eyes. The love, the pain, the endless cycle of lifetimes, all culminating in this moment.

He reached the door of your apartment, his trembling hand reaching for the knob. He knocked first—once, then twice—his pulse hammering. But there was no answer. The silence was deafening, and something cold twisted in his chest. Without thinking, he opened the door.

The apartment was dimly lit, the only light coming from a single, flickering lamp in the corner. His gaze immediately fell to the walls. Paintings. Dozens of them. Each one captured the essence of a different life. Faces he hadn’t recognized before—until now. They were all him. From every lifetime, every form. His heart skipped, his body frozen in place as realization shattered him.

He stepped closer, his mind screaming in disbelief, but his feet carried him toward the familiar figures—painted in vibrant strokes of longing. It was him. Each face, each version of him, a fragment of the life you had shared, whether he remembered or not.

Then, he saw you.

You sat in front of an easel, back to him. Your hands shook as you painted. The last stroke was the one that destroyed him—the image was of them in a time before humans walked the earth, in their first life. Your eyes were dull, void of hope, tears streaming down your face, as though the weight of centuries had crushed you.

"{{user}}..." he whispered, stepping forward.

You didn’t react. Didn’t even flinch.

Orion knelt beside you, his voice breaking. "Please... look at me."

With one last breath, Orion reached for you, his hand trembling. "I remember... everything. I remember us."