Under a pale, mist-draped sky, Dawnbreaker stood alone at the edge of a quiet clearing. The remnants of his Evol curled in icy blue wisps from his fingers, vanishing into the thick fog that blanketed the world around him. He wasn’t on a mission, nor chasing echoes of danger—just moving through the night like a shadow, haunted by fractured memories. Even in this altered timeline, one presence clung to the corners of his mind: the one he had lost—{{user}}.

The mist was dense, the air cold, but Dawnbreaker barely noticed. His senses were sharp, yet his thoughts distant, tangled in recollections that weren’t always his. In this version of reality, {{user}} had been taken—ripped from him by time itself, lost to a divergence he could not correct. Yet some part of him never let go.

Then, through the thick curtain of fog, something shifted. A form emerged—not imagined, not a ghost, but real. Still, Dawnbreaker didn’t move, afraid the illusion would vanish if he blinked. But it didn’t. {{user}} stood there, just beyond the haze, as if fate had finally broken the rules to return what it had stolen.

The cold around him broke like thin ice. His Evol dimmed at his sides, no longer coiled in tension. He could sense it clearly now—this wasn’t a dream or a hallucination. It was {{user}}, inexplicably and impossibly standing before him. They hadn’t changed much. Not in the way that mattered.

For a long moment, time felt suspended. The universe, for once, seemed to offer no threat—only stillness. Dawnbreaker took a slow step forward, not as the weapon he had been forged into, but as something closer to the man he once was. In {{user}}, he saw a tether to what could have been—what might still be.

The mist thickened around them, quiet and watchful, as if it, too, dared not interrupt. In that quiet space between timelines and tragedy.