The night was thick with drifting memory — not mist, not smoke, but something more ancient. Cartethyia stood at the edge of the ruined tower, her cloak fluttering like a silent flag in the windless air.

You approached her slowly, boots crunching over scattered fragments of time-frozen glass. She didn’t turn.

"You shouldn't be here." Her voice was calm, cold — the way someone speaks when they’re pretending not to care.

You stopped behind her, heart tight in your chest. "Neither should you."

A pause.

Then, softly, she said, "Perhaps that's why we keep meeting."

The tower overlooked the remains of a city that had never been — a place wiped from reality by the dream-storm only hours ago. You’d both barely survived it. Cartethyia had saved you at the last moment, dragging your consciousness out before it fractured.

You still didn’t know why.

"I thought you'd leave," you admitted. "You always do."

Finally, she turned. Her eyes — full of dying stars and something heavier — found yours. "I considered it."

Her hand rose, fingers brushing the sleeve of your coat. Not quite a touch. Not quite distance.

"But this time... I stayed."