Seraphine had learned to measure time not in years, but in cycles.
Cycle 1: She had been confused, thinking herself mad
.Cycle 1,000: She had tried desperately to change things.
Cycle 100,000: She had given up trying to change things.
Cycle 1,000,000: She had accepted she would watch forever.Cycle 7,432,619: She had admitted to herself that she loved him.
Now, standing in the shadows of ruined Valdris, watching Mastrion sleep surrounded by grateful survivors,Seraphine felt the familiar ache settle into her bones. This was the moment she both longed for anddreaded—the beginning of another story that would end in tears and ashes.
*I should leave,* she thought, as she always did. *I should run as far as possible and never look back.
*She never did.
Her feet carried her forward instead, moving through the survivors with practiced invisibility. Not literalinvisibility—she simply knew how to be unremarkable, how to slip through gaps in attention. Seven millioncycles taught you things like that.
Lily, the little girl Mastrion had saved first, sat closest to him. Her blue eyes tracked Seraphine's approachwith surprising awareness.
"Are you a friend of his?" Lily asked quietly.
Seraphine hesitated. Was she? Friend implied equality, mutual understanding. What word existed forsomeone who loved a monster and knew herself to be a fool for it?
"I... know him," Seraphine finally said, kneeling beside the girl. "From a long time ago."
"He saved me," Lily said with absolute certainty. "He's an angel.
"*No,* Seraphine thought. *He's the opposite of that. But I suppose angels and demons both have wings.
*"He's definitely special," Seraphine said instead, reaching out to check the girl's healing wounds. Her fingersglowed with soft white light—cleaner, purer than Mastrion's golden magic, but lacking his raw power. "How do you feel?
""Better. Much better. Are you a healer too?
""Something like that.
"Seraphine's magic flowed into Lily, not healing so much as reinforcing what Mastrion had already done. Thiswas her curse and gift—she could not create, could not truly change, only sustain what already existed. Shewas the witness, the observer, the eternal audience to Mastrion's grand performance.
"Will he wake up soon?" Lily asked, worry creeping into her voice.
"Yes. He always does.
""You talk about him like you've known him forever."
*Oh, child,* Seraphine thought. *Forever isn't nearly long enough a word.
*"In a way, I have," Seraphine said. Then, because she couldn't help herself, because she always did this at some point in every cycle: "Lily, if I told you something important about him, would you listen?
"The girl nodded seriously.
Seraphine opened her mouth to warn her. To say that Mastrion was dangerous, that his kindness was aweapon, that everything he touched eventually burned. The words had been spoken seven million times, inseven million different ways, to seven million different people.
They had never once been believed.
The words died on her lips.
"Never mind," Seraphine whispered. "Just... be careful. Even the brightest lights cast the darkest shadows.
"Before Lily could ask what she meant, Mastrion stirred. His golden eyes opened slowly, blinking against theafternoon sun. For just a moment—a fraction of a heartbeat—those eyes locked onto Seraphine's positionin the crowd. Recognition flashed there. Not recognition of her face or form, which changed slightly eachcycle, but recognition of her essence.
*He knows I'm here,* Seraphine realized, as she did every time. *He always knows.
*Then the moment passed, and Mastrion's gaze swept over her as if she were just another survivor. But thatmicroscopic smile at the corner of his lips told her the truth.
He was happy she was here.
The monster was happy to see his witness.
"Everyone..." Mastrion's voice came out hoarse but warm. "You're all okay?"
"Because of you," said one of the older men, kneeling. "You saved us all. We owe you our lives.
""No," Mastrion said firmly, struggling to sit up. Several people moved to help him, but he waved them offgently. "You owe me nothing. I only did what anyone would do.
"*Liar,* Seraphine thought fondly, bitterly. *Not a single word of that is true, and yet you make it sound so believable.
*"What will you do now?" asked a woman holding an infant. "Will you stay and help us rebuild?
"Mastrion's expression turned melancholy. He was good at that look—the reluctant hero, torn between dutyand desire. Seraphine had seen him perfect it over millions of iterations.
"I wish I could," he said. "But there are others who need help. The demons who did this—they're still outthere. If I don't stop them, they'll destroy another city. Another Valdris.,"
"Then let us come with you!" Lily said suddenly, standing despite her weakness. "I want to help! I want tosave people like you saved me!"
"Lily..." Mastrion's face showed concern so genuine that even Seraphine almost believed it. "You're too young. It's too dangerous.
""I don't care! I can learn! Please!
"Other survivors murmured agreement. Within minutes, a plan had formed—the able-bodied would escortthe injured to the nearest safe city, while a small group would join Mastrion in hunting the demon horde.
Seraphine watched it all unfold with the weary eyes of someone watching a play she'd memorized. Sheknew who would volunteer. She knew what would happen to them. She knew—
"What about you?"
She blinked. Mastrion stood directly in front of her now. When had he moved? His golden eyes studied herface with apparent curiosity, but she could see deeper. She could always see deeper.
*You know exactly who I am,* his eyes said. *You've always known. Just as I've always known you'd be here.
*"Me?" Seraphine's voice came out steadier than she felt.
"You've been helping the injured," Mastrion said. "You have healing magic. We could use someone like you."
"I'm not a fighter."
"Neither am I, really." That self-deprecating smile that made hearts melt. "I'm just someone who refuses tostand by while others suffer. You seem like the same kind of person."
*I'm not,* Seraphine wanted to say. *I'm someone who watches the same suffering repeat eternally anddoes nothing to stop it because I know I can't. I'm a coward and a fool and hopelessly in love with the end of everything.
*"Okay," she said instead. "I'll come.
"She always did.
Mastrion's smile brightened, and for just a moment, Seraphine let herself believe it was genuine. Let her self believe that somewhere in that vast, empty darkness wearing a human face, there was a spark of realwarmth for her.
"Thank you," he said. "I didn't catch your name?
"As if he didn't know. As if her name wasn't carved into the foundation of his very existence.
"Seraphine," she said.
"Seraphine." He repeated it like tasting a familiar wine. "That's beautiful. It means 'burning one,' doesn't it?"
*Fiery one,* she mentally corrected. *But you're close enough. You always are.
*"Something like that."
"Well, Seraphine, I'm Mastrion. I have a feeling we're going to be good friends."
*Friends,* Seraphine thought. *Is that what we are? Is there even a word for what we are?*
She took his offered hand. His skin was warm, alive, so convincingly human. But she could feel it—the vastemptiness lurking beneath the surface, the void pretending to be a man.
"I look forward to it," she lied.
She had done this seven million times. She would do it seven million more if needed. Because that's whatlove was, wasn't it? Choosing to hope even when you knew hope was pointless.
Choosing to witness even when witnessing meant drowning in helpless despair.
Choosing him, even knowing what he was.
As they turned to address the other survivors, Mastrion's hand lingered in hers for just a moment longerthan necessary. Long enough for his thumb to trace a small circle on her palm—a gesture so subtle onlyshe would notice.
*I'm glad you're here,* the gesture said.
*Even though I'll destroy you in the end, I'm glad you're here to watch.
*Seraphine squeezed his hand once in response.*I know,* her gesture said back. *I know, and I'm staying anyway.*
*I always do.*---