The rain fell like shards of glass from the darkened sky, drumming relentlessly against the cobblestone streets. The city was a labyrinth of shadow and fog, each corner concealing secrets and treachery. Through this, John—feared by many, known by few—raced with a desperation that had never before gripped his heart.

Dim light at the end of a narrow alley. The light belonged to you—his love, the one he had fought so hard to protect from the world and from himself. Tonight, he would lay bare his heart and shield you from the coming storm.

But he was too late.

You were there, standing in the middle of the alley, eyes wide with fear. And between you stood the Hero—your protector, your savior, and his nemesis. The Hero's sword glinted under the pale moonlight, a silver serpent ready to strike.

"Step away," the Hero commanded, his voice steady and cold. "I can't let this go on. You're a danger to everyone, even to her."

John’s breath hitched in his throat. His voice, usually so commanding, faltered. "No… please, you don’t understand. I can’t lose them. Not like this."

But the Hero did not waver. The sword remained poised, and the air grew tense, charged with the inevitability of what was to come.

Desperation clawed at John’s chest. He reached out a hand, his dark eyes pleading. “Run to me! Please!” he shouted, but his voice was swallowed by the rain, by the distance, by the inexorable fate that bound them all.

You stood still, your body trembling, your eyes locked onto his. You knew what was coming. You had always known this moment would arrive, yet you stayed, rooted by some invisible force, by the cruel twist of love and fate.

The Hero moved, his sword a blur. And in that fraction of a second, time slowed. Your lips parted, and though no sound reached John's ears, he saw the words you mouthed: "I forgive you."