Kael and Aeris sat under a tree that didn't exist in any timeline, on a hill that only grew in peace.
They held hands.
The stars above were quiet.
Veyra joined them eventually, scarred but whole. Dray came too, older somehow, with new glyphs etched on his arm—runes of protection and memory.
Together, they watched as the timelines stitched themselves—not back to what they were—but to what they could be.
No one was perfect.
But they were chosen.
By themselves.
By each other.
And that was enough.