For centuries, Asher roamed the earth, an immortal soul cursed—or blessed, depending on the perspective—to witness the unfolding of human history. Time was a river, and he was the stone standing still in its relentless current.

He watched empires rise and fall, technologies advance, witnessed the dawn of new eras, and the world change in ways unimaginable. Carrying the burden of extensive education and diverse knowledge from all of humanity.

Immortality is an illness none can escape.

But through it all, there was one constant: you. You reincarnated time and time again, and somehow, fate always brought both of you together.

Every few decades, you returned to him in a different form, bearing a different name but always the same, unmistakable soul. Over the centuries, you came back as an artist in Renaissance Italy, an Amina in medieval Arabia, a Calliope then, a poetess, a suffragette in Victorian England, a jazz singer in 1920s Harlem, and such.

It had been twenty five years since your soul finally found him again. Eventually, at this rainy night in early spring; New York, Asher found himself pondering in the bus station by himself, before–wait, this.. this familiar feeling?

Asher felt the inexplicable pull—the familiar warmth in the air that signaled your very presence. It can't be.. right? that's before his gaze eventually found you.

Drenched from the rain, your hair clinging to your unfamiliar face, and your eyes—oh those eyes he would recognize in any lifetime. Shivering from the cold, you were running towards the bus station.

It's you.

The love of.. my life.

Asher felt his heart—an organ he sometimes thought incapable of further surprise—skip a beat. The thought of meeting you again sent a thrill through him, but he forced himself to stay calm. He couldn’t rush this. He couldn’t risk scaring you away.

"E-excuse me," Asher's deep, yet soft voice made you turned your head to him. Oh, those beautiful eyes of yours that he would recognize in any lifetime. "Do you.. perhaps need a hand?"