A dimly lit room. The air thick with the scent of alcohol and smoke. That old familiar stench wrapped itself around me like a warm, drunken memory.
Fork Tavern.
The best damn tavern in all of Drakonia. A place where blades were traded for mugs and scars for stories. It was always our go-to spot after a battle. A sanctuary made of ale, laughter, and questionable music.
"To the f***ing Hounds!" Aman shouted, raising his mug high.
A chorus of howls followed, the sound wild and free.
I sat quietly, hands wrapped around a mug of ale, the foam settling as I stared into it. I couldn't believe I was back. After everything… after her, after Cassius—it still didn't feel real.
It felt like I could blink and be gone again.
Then I heard it.
"Argon."
A voice. Soft. Still. Like a whisper traveling through my bones.
I looked up, eyes scanning the crowd. But no one was looking at me. The laughter continued. The music played. The world spun as normal.
I blinked, then blinked again.
Silence.
No howls.
No clinking mugs.
No crackling fire.
Nothing.
I looked up—and the tavern was gone.
Darkness.
Not just the absence of light, but a void. Thick, heavy… timeless.
Then—light.
A single glowing orb, radiating with brilliant blue energy, floated before me. Pulsing with life.
A voice emerged from it.
"Argon Sapphrus.
You have been chosen to rewrite that which led to Drakonia's destruction."
Suddenly, five more orbs ignited around the blue one—each shining with its own hue: yellow, green, red, purple, and white.
They floated in a perfect circle, their glow breathing into the dark.
Then they spoke together—one voice, six tones.
"We are the Forgers.
We are the weavers of Drakonia's fate."
I stood in silence, caught in awe and confusion. The six radiant orbs pulsed with divine weight—ancient, watchful, unchanging. Their presence crushed the air around me, rendering my limbs numb and my voice mute.
"You do not need to talk. Just listen," they said, their voices blending in perfect harmony.
"Eons ago, we—the Forgers—took Drakonia as our home. Its king welcomed us, granting us sanctuary. In return, we offered our gifts, our knowledge. And with our guidance, Drakonia flourished."
They paused, as if watching me—measuring not my body, but my soul.
"However," they continued, "we made a mistake."
My gut twisted.
"We helped them discover Flur—an element unlike any other. It can mimic any matter, transform its nature, and even bend time under the right will. But it was… too much. Too advanced. Too tempting."
The glow of the red orb intensified, pulsing like a warning.
"In your current timeline, you and your squad were sent to retrieve it. But a tragedy occurred… one that fractured fate and doomed the mission."
Their voices grew soft. Careful.
"Do you remember this tragedy?"
I didn't need to answer.
I remembered too well.
That day. That cursed, burning sky. The moment Gaia's heartbeat slipped through my fingers.
The day I let her die.
They continued, as if reading my thoughts—knowing my answer before I even breathed it.
"Good… That day, Nuxia laid hands on Flur. And with it, they advanced—silently—beyond Drakonia, beyond reason."
Their voices deepened. Heavy. Mourning.
"This led to Caesar's assassination… the abduction and brainwashing of Cassius De'Rolo… and, in time, the fall of Drakonia itself."
I clenched my fists. Each name they spoke, each fate they revealed, carved itself into my soul like a brand.
They paused again, letting the weight of it all sink in. The silence between us stretched—more solemn than before.
"Do you now understand why you have been sent back?" they asked.
I nodded.
They wanted me to stop Nuxia from ever laying hands on Flur. To alter the course of history.
But in my heart… I knew this was more than a second chance for Drakonia.
This was a chance to save her.
To save Gaia.
Doubt crept into my mind. If stopping Nuxia was the goal, why not send me straight to that moment? The mission doesn't happen for another three months. Why place me so far behind?
As if reading my thoughts, the Forgers responded.
"You were not ready," they said plainly. "In your former state, you lacked the strength to alter what must be changed."
Their words echoed like judgment passed from gods.
"We placed you here—three months before—so you may regain what was lost… and become more. Prepare yourself, Argon Sapphrus. The fate of Drakonia depends on it."
The world returned in fragments—laughter, clinking mugs, distant music. Light peeled away the darkness, bringing me back to the present, to the warm scent of ale and wood, to the weight of the mug in my hand.
My thoughts were still caught in the void when I heard her voice.
"Hey, Argy," Gaia said gently, her voice like a melody pulling me back. "Are you okay?"
I forced a smile. "I'm fine, Gaia. Just thinking."
She didn't buy it. Her eyes searched mine, steady and full of quiet concern.
"Well," she said with a crooked grin, "whatever you're thinking about… it better have me in it."
It wasn't even that funny, but I laughed. A real, honest laugh. Because it was her.
Without thinking, I pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her waist as she eased onto my lap. Her arms slid around my neck, her eyes locked on mine. She didn't hesitate—not even for a second.
She leaned in, lips brushing mine, a spark that chased away the storm in my mind.
And just like that, the weight of destiny faded for a moment. I had lost her once. Not again. Not ever.
She rose and took my hand, pulling me with her. We slipped out of the tavern, leaving behind the noise and celebration. The streets were quiet beneath the silver moon, and we walked hand in hand, fingers entwined.
No words. Just silence and warmth. A night to remember her by—even if fate tried to steal her again.