The fracture wasn't a place.
It was a feeling.
Luna floated in the in-between—not above, not below, but between every tick of the clock. Around her, time didn't flow. It pooled. Swirled. Broke into shards like dropped glass.
And in each shard, a world.
She saw them all at once.
A Mars where children played in domes untouched by war.
An Earth where the Devourers never came—cities gleaming, skies clear, no scars on anyone's soul.
A galaxy humming with quiet order, no alliances, no bloodlines, no David… and no her.
Peace.
Real, clean, unbroken peace.
No pain. No loss. No Alexander dissolving into seeds. No Scarlett fading into starlight. No Elena clutching a rifle with tears in her eyes.
Just… calm.
And it was beautiful.
Too beautiful.
Because in that world, love existed—but only as potential. Safe. Contained. Never tested. Never chosen.
Here, in the real timeline, love was messy. It bled. It broke. It demanded everything—and gave more back.
But was it worth it?
