In the beginning...
In the vibrant capital of Valeria, Aurelinth, where ancient legends and modern lives intertwine, the threads of destiny begin to unravel when Doctor Anika D'Aramon of Mercy Hospital crosses paths with Captain Jason Reese, a wounded Valerian Marine. Their fleeting yet profound connection in the aftermath of a violent crime sparks a cascade of events that transcends time, linking their souls to the ancient lives of Lord Jaiden Ravenshield and Princess Dheena Aramon. Bound by the enigmatic magic of Soul-binding, their story unfolds across eras, weaving a tale of unity, redemption, and the unyielding power of fate.
Two lives, bound by a connection that defies centuries, must unravel the echoes of their past to forge a future untainted by fate’s relentless hand. Through the flames of war and the whispers of forgotten lives, their bond becomes both their salvation and their greatest challenge. Will they rise together, or will the weight of history tear them apart?
Two lives, bound by a connection that defies centuries, must unravel the echoes of their past to forge a future untainted by fate’s relentless hand. Through the flames of war and the whispers of forgotten lives, their bond becomes both their salvation and their greatest challenge. Will they rise together, or will the weight of history tear them apart?
“This union must not wait,” the King declared, his voice firm and final. “The marriage of Princess Dheena of Aramon to Lord Jaiden, House of Ravenshield, will take place two weeks hence, under the watchful gaze of the Sun Chapel in Aurelinth. There, before the Eternal Flame and the eyes of the realm, your vows will bind more than just your houses—they will bind our kingdom's future.”
In the world of Valeria, the ancient and forbidden art of Soul-binding lies at the heart of whispered legends and unsettling truths, intricately linked to destiny and reincarnation. Rooted in the belief that souls traverse lifetimes, bound by threads spun by the mythic Forgotten Weavers, this enigmatic magic is as feared as it is revered. The Weavers, said to be timeless beings who shape the flow of time and destiny, are shrouded in mystery, their influence felt but rarely understood.
As practitioners of Soul-binding, be they Oracles, mystics, or those cursed by bloodlines stained with its power, are outcasts, operating in the shadows where their craft remains outlawed. They wield potent and dangerous abilities tied to the fabric of existence:
One is the ability to identify reincarnated souls by mystical birthmarks or peculiar traits, called by many, a Soul Mark… such as unnaturally vivid eye colors or symbols etched onto their skin. These marks are said to be fragments of the past, reminders of lives lived and destinies unfulfilled.
The other is the power to unlock fragments of past-life memories, called by many as Fate’s Echo, often triggered during moments of profound emotional intensity. These echoes carry the weight of forgotten joys, loves, and tragedies, leaving the reincarnated to grapple with identities both familiar and alien.
And lastly, a forbidden spell capable of binding two souls together in an eternal pact, some called Destiny’s Oath, ensuring their fates are intertwined across lifetimes. Though rare and perilous, the bond created is unbreakable, often leading to either extraordinary unity or catastrophic consequence.
But this magic comes with harrowing risks. Legends speak of Fate Unraveled, a curse that befalls those who defy their destined path. To rebel against the Weavers’ threads is to court death… or worse, to become a restless spirit, wandering eternally as a fragment of a shattered soul.
For those marked by reincarnation, the stakes are high. For Anika and Jason, two souls forced together on a particular day, a day of circumstance that neither of them would have normally been. They are believed to carry not only memories but also the burdens and debts of their present selves, into a world of the past, where alliances are fragile and power is everything, these individuals walk a perilous path in the lives of Lord Jaiden, of House Ravenshield and Dheena, princess of the Dominion of Aramon, forever questioning whether their choices are truly their own… or the echoes of fates woven long ago.
It was a warm summer evening in Aurelinth, the renowned capital of Valeria, where the city buzzed with life, its illuminated spires glinting against the twilight sky. At Mercy Hospital, one of the city’s finest medical institutions, Doctor Anika d’Aramon, a rising star in emergency medicine, was nearing the end of another grueling shift in the ER. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and the air was thick with the usual chaos… patients, nurses, and the hum of machines. Anika thrived in this environment, her steady hands and sharp instincts saving lives with precision and compassion.
The sound of an ambulance siren cut through the din, signaling the arrival of a critical case. Anika, already halfway through reviewing charts, was called over by a nurse. “Doctor Anika, we’ve got a priority-one coming in,” the nurse said, her voice urgent. “Gunshot wound. Male, late thirties. Officer in the Marine Corps.”
Anika’s brows knit together. Gunshot wounds weren’t entirely rare, but in a city like Aurelinth, they carried weight… often pointing to something far more sinister than a random act of violence. Setting the chart aside, she hurried to the trauma bay just as the paramedics wheeled in their patient.
The man on the stretcher was Captain Jason Reese, a decorated officer of the Valerian Marine Corps, who had been on permissible leave when he was attacked. His face was pale, his breathing shallow, and his uniform bore the telltale marks of violence… torn fabric and blood.
The paramedics rattled off vitals as they handed him over. “Single gunshot wound to the left abdomen, possible damage to internal organs,” one of them said. “BP’s dropping fast. He’s been conscious on and off.”
Anika moved swiftly, her voice calm but commanding as she began issuing instructions. “Prep for a rapid blood transfusion and page the surgical team. We need imaging ASAP to locate the bullet and assess the damage. Let’s stabilize him.”
As she worked, Jason stirred, his storm-gray eyes fluttering open for a brief moment. His gaze landed on Anika, and despite the haze of pain, there was a flicker of awareness. “Marines…” he muttered, his voice weak but determined. “Protect… my team…”
Anika’s sharp eyes met his, and for a brief moment, there was an unspoken connection… an understanding that went beyond words. “You’re safe now, Captain,” she assured him, her voice steady but gentle. “Let me do my job so you can do yours.”
Jason’s eyes closed again as exhaustion overtook him, but Anika couldn’t shake the intensity of that fleeting gaze. There was something about him… a presence, a gravity… that lingered even as she turned her full attention back to saving his life.
The sound of an ambulance siren cut through the din, signaling the arrival of a critical case. Anika, already halfway through reviewing charts, was called over by a nurse. “Doctor Anika, we’ve got a priority-one coming in,” the nurse said, her voice urgent. “Gunshot wound. Male, late thirties. Officer in the Marine Corps.”
Anika’s brows knit together. Gunshot wounds weren’t entirely rare, but in a city like Aurelinth, they carried weight… often pointing to something far more sinister than a random act of violence. Setting the chart aside, she hurried to the trauma bay just as the paramedics wheeled in their patient.
The man on the stretcher was Captain Jason Reese, a decorated officer of the Valerian Marine Corps, who had been on permissible leave when he was attacked. His face was pale, his breathing shallow, and his uniform bore the telltale marks of violence… torn fabric and blood.
The paramedics rattled off vitals as they handed him over. “Single gunshot wound to the left abdomen, possible damage to internal organs,” one of them said. “BP’s dropping fast. He’s been conscious on and off.”
Anika moved swiftly, her voice calm but commanding as she began issuing instructions. “Prep for a rapid blood transfusion and page the surgical team. We need imaging ASAP to locate the bullet and assess the damage. Let’s stabilize him.”
As she worked, Jason stirred, his storm-gray eyes fluttering open for a brief moment. His gaze landed on Anika, and despite the haze of pain, there was a flicker of awareness. “Marines…” he muttered, his voice weak but determined. “Protect… my team…”
Anika’s sharp eyes met his, and for a brief moment, there was an unspoken connection… an understanding that went beyond words. “You’re safe now, Captain,” she assured him, her voice steady but gentle. “Let me do my job so you can do yours.”
Jason’s eyes closed again as exhaustion overtook him, but Anika couldn’t shake the intensity of that fleeting gaze. There was something about him… a presence, a gravity… that lingered even as she turned her full attention back to saving his life.
The trauma bay buzzed with controlled urgency, but for Anika, time seemed to slow. The familiar rhythm of triage wrapped around her like an old coat—comforting in its chaos, grounding in its demand for focus. Her team moved like a well-oiled machine, responding to her every command with precision.
“Vitals?” she called, pulling on gloves as she leaned over Jason’s pale, blood-slicked form.
“BP’s 80 over 50, heart rate’s 120,” the nurse responded, hanging another unit of O-negative blood.
“Push fluids, wide open. Monitor his output,” Anika instructed, her voice even despite the tension in the air. “Let’s not lose him on my table.”
She leaned closer to examine the wound. The entry point was jagged, suggesting the bullet hadn’t gone cleanly through. It was likely lodged somewhere deep, and with every passing second, his chances of survival dwindled.
“Captain Reese, can you hear me?” she said, her voice cutting through the din.
Jason’s eyelids fluttered again, and for a brief moment, those storm-gray eyes locked onto hers. Even through the haze of blood loss and pain, there was an intensity in his gaze—a fighter’s spirit refusing to back down.
“Team…” he muttered again, his voice barely audible, but his grip on consciousness was slipping.
Anika reached out, her hand steadying his shoulder as she leaned in. “Your team’s fine, Captain. Focus on staying with me. You’re not done here yet.”
Her words seemed to anchor him, his lips twitching in the faintest shadow of a grim smile before he slipped back under.
“Doctor, imaging’s ready,” one of the techs interrupted.
“Good. Roll him,” she ordered. Her fingers probed gently around the wound as they shifted him onto his side, the monitor beside him beeping erratically in protest. “Hold his vitals steady. If this bullet nicked the liver, he’s going to crash on us fast.”
“Are we moving to the OR?” the nurse asked, glancing between Anika and the monitor.
“Not yet,” Anika replied, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the bleeding. “We stabilize him here, or he won’t make it to the OR.”
As she worked, her mind flickered back to that moment of connection—Jason’s gaze, the weight of his words. Protect my team. The resolve in his voice reminded her of something she’d long buried—a memory of her own father, also a soldier, murmuring similar words as she sat beside his hospital bed years ago.
She shook off the thought, focusing instead on the task at hand. There would be time to dissect her own emotions later.
“Doctor,” one of the younger nurses murmured, her tone tentative. “He doesn’t look like just another soldier. His insignia… isn’t that Marine Intelligence?”
Anika’s jaw tightened. If the nurse was right, this wasn’t just a random act of violence. Someone had deliberately targeted Jason Reese—and by extension, Aurelinth’s secrets.
“Doesn’t matter what uniform he wears,” Anika said firmly, stepping back as the imaging tech brought the scans into view. “Right now, he’s a patient. And I don’t lose patients.”
The scans appeared on the monitor, and her sharp eyes scanned them quickly, zeroing in on the bullet. It was lodged dangerously close to the hepatic vein.
“We need surgical intervention now,” she said, turning to the lead nurse. “Page Dr. Veylen to meet us in the OR. Let’s move him. Keep that transfusion going and monitor his pressure closely. I don’t want any surprises on the way up.”
As the team prepped Jason for transport, Anika took a moment to steady herself, her hand brushing the edge of the stretcher. She looked down at him, his face calm despite the chaos surrounding him.
Who are you, Captain Reese? And what have you brought to my doorstep?
The thought lingered as she followed the stretcher out of the trauma bay, the fluorescent lights overhead giving way to the dim hum of the hospital corridors. Whatever secrets Jason carried, Anika knew she was now a part of them—and she wouldn’t rest until he was alive to tell them.
“Vitals?” she called, pulling on gloves as she leaned over Jason’s pale, blood-slicked form.
“BP’s 80 over 50, heart rate’s 120,” the nurse responded, hanging another unit of O-negative blood.
“Push fluids, wide open. Monitor his output,” Anika instructed, her voice even despite the tension in the air. “Let’s not lose him on my table.”
She leaned closer to examine the wound. The entry point was jagged, suggesting the bullet hadn’t gone cleanly through. It was likely lodged somewhere deep, and with every passing second, his chances of survival dwindled.
“Captain Reese, can you hear me?” she said, her voice cutting through the din.
Jason’s eyelids fluttered again, and for a brief moment, those storm-gray eyes locked onto hers. Even through the haze of blood loss and pain, there was an intensity in his gaze—a fighter’s spirit refusing to back down.
“Team…” he muttered again, his voice barely audible, but his grip on consciousness was slipping.
Anika reached out, her hand steadying his shoulder as she leaned in. “Your team’s fine, Captain. Focus on staying with me. You’re not done here yet.”
Her words seemed to anchor him, his lips twitching in the faintest shadow of a grim smile before he slipped back under.
“Doctor, imaging’s ready,” one of the techs interrupted.
“Good. Roll him,” she ordered. Her fingers probed gently around the wound as they shifted him onto his side, the monitor beside him beeping erratically in protest. “Hold his vitals steady. If this bullet nicked the liver, he’s going to crash on us fast.”
“Are we moving to the OR?” the nurse asked, glancing between Anika and the monitor.
“Not yet,” Anika replied, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the bleeding. “We stabilize him here, or he won’t make it to the OR.”
As she worked, her mind flickered back to that moment of connection—Jason’s gaze, the weight of his words. Protect my team. The resolve in his voice reminded her of something she’d long buried—a memory of her own father, also a soldier, murmuring similar words as she sat beside his hospital bed years ago.
She shook off the thought, focusing instead on the task at hand. There would be time to dissect her own emotions later.
“Doctor,” one of the younger nurses murmured, her tone tentative. “He doesn’t look like just another soldier. His insignia… isn’t that Marine Intelligence?”
Anika’s jaw tightened. If the nurse was right, this wasn’t just a random act of violence. Someone had deliberately targeted Jason Reese—and by extension, Aurelinth’s secrets.
“Doesn’t matter what uniform he wears,” Anika said firmly, stepping back as the imaging tech brought the scans into view. “Right now, he’s a patient. And I don’t lose patients.”
The scans appeared on the monitor, and her sharp eyes scanned them quickly, zeroing in on the bullet. It was lodged dangerously close to the hepatic vein.
“We need surgical intervention now,” she said, turning to the lead nurse. “Page Dr. Veylen to meet us in the OR. Let’s move him. Keep that transfusion going and monitor his pressure closely. I don’t want any surprises on the way up.”
As the team prepped Jason for transport, Anika took a moment to steady herself, her hand brushing the edge of the stretcher. She looked down at him, his face calm despite the chaos surrounding him.
Who are you, Captain Reese? And what have you brought to my doorstep?
The thought lingered as she followed the stretcher out of the trauma bay, the fluorescent lights overhead giving way to the dim hum of the hospital corridors. Whatever secrets Jason carried, Anika knew she was now a part of them—and she wouldn’t rest until he was alive to tell them.
Weaving past and future, myth and realism, into a compelling tapestry deepening the connections between Anika and Jason's current lives and their historical counterparts, Dheena and Jaiden… The dim hum of the hospital corridors wrapped around Doctor Anika d’Aramon like a shroud as she walked briskly beside Captain Reese's stretcher. Her mind raced, caught between the immediacy of saving his life and the gnawing curiosity about the enigma he carried. Something about him… it wasn’t just his wounds or the way he clung to consciousness… it was as though the air around him held a weight of something larger than the moment.
Protect my team.. Resounded in her mind, as her fingers brushed the edge of the stretcher, an unconscious gesture that tethered her to reality. Barely registering the commotion of nurses clearing the path or the steady beeping of the monitor. All she could think about were his words. The faint echo of urgency in his voice lingered, tugging at a distant, unspoken part of her memory, like a melody she should recognize but couldn’t quite place.
As they reached the OR, the doors swung open, and the team moved swiftly, prepping Jason for surgery.
Jason Reese awoke from darkness… he was in a hospital room now, the sterile scent of antiseptics mixing with the faint hum of machines. His body ached, every movement reminding him of the bullet that had nearly ended his life. But the pain was secondary to the disorientation. His mind felt foggy, fragmented, as though it had been stretched too thin over too many memories.
He blinked, his storm-gray eyes adjusting to the dim light, and found himself staring at a figure seated beside his bed. He could tell it was a doctor, but he would find out her name later, surely. Her posture rigid, her gaze unwavering. She held a tablet in her lap, the screen glowing faintly with medical charts, but her attention was on him.
Jason tried to speak, but his throat was dry. And as habit did, The doctor rose and poured water into a cup and held it to his lips, her movements careful, deliberate. After a few sips, he managed to rasp, “How bad?” his mind already racing ahead. “How long have I been out?”
Jason’s jaw tightened. He remembered everything… the ambush, the flash of gunfire, the shadowy figures who had cornered him in the narrow alley. But he also remembered something else… something stranger. A voice, soft but insistent, whispering his name as he lay bleeding on the ground. The voice had sounded like hers.
“I remember enough,” he said finally, his tone guarded.
Jason hesitated. The memories were still jumbled, overlapping like mismatched puzzle pieces. He saw flashes of his Marine Corps unit, but also something older, something out of place… visions of another life entirely. A stone keep surrounded by mist. A dark-haired woman calling a name… Jaiden… And always, always the same feeling of urgency, as though he were running out of time.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. “It’s… complicated.”
Protect my team.. Resounded in her mind, as her fingers brushed the edge of the stretcher, an unconscious gesture that tethered her to reality. Barely registering the commotion of nurses clearing the path or the steady beeping of the monitor. All she could think about were his words. The faint echo of urgency in his voice lingered, tugging at a distant, unspoken part of her memory, like a melody she should recognize but couldn’t quite place.
As they reached the OR, the doors swung open, and the team moved swiftly, prepping Jason for surgery.
Who are you, Captain Reese? And what have you brought to my doorstep?
Jason Reese awoke from darkness… he was in a hospital room now, the sterile scent of antiseptics mixing with the faint hum of machines. His body ached, every movement reminding him of the bullet that had nearly ended his life. But the pain was secondary to the disorientation. His mind felt foggy, fragmented, as though it had been stretched too thin over too many memories.
He blinked, his storm-gray eyes adjusting to the dim light, and found himself staring at a figure seated beside his bed. He could tell it was a doctor, but he would find out her name later, surely. Her posture rigid, her gaze unwavering. She held a tablet in her lap, the screen glowing faintly with medical charts, but her attention was on him.
Jason tried to speak, but his throat was dry. And as habit did, The doctor rose and poured water into a cup and held it to his lips, her movements careful, deliberate. After a few sips, he managed to rasp, “How bad?” his mind already racing ahead. “How long have I been out?”
“Thirty-six hours Do you remember what happened?”
Jason’s jaw tightened. He remembered everything… the ambush, the flash of gunfire, the shadowy figures who had cornered him in the narrow alley. But he also remembered something else… something stranger. A voice, soft but insistent, whispering his name as he lay bleeding on the ground. The voice had sounded like hers.
“I remember enough,” he said finally, his tone guarded.
“About protecting your team. Who were you talking about?”
Jason hesitated. The memories were still jumbled, overlapping like mismatched puzzle pieces. He saw flashes of his Marine Corps unit, but also something older, something out of place… visions of another life entirely. A stone keep surrounded by mist. A dark-haired woman calling a name… Jaiden… And always, always the same feeling of urgency, as though he were running out of time.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. “It’s… complicated.”
Anika sat back in her chair, studying Jason Reese with an intensity that felt almost invasive. It wasn’t just his words—it was the way he said them. The hesitation, the weight in his voice, as though he were grappling with something far larger than a simple memory lapse.
She pressed her lips into a thin line, her fingers still gripping the tablet in her lap, though she no longer glanced at it. The data there—heart rates, blood loss, surgical notes—felt almost irrelevant in the face of the man in front of her.
“It doesn’t sound complicated,” she said softly, her tone carefully measured, though the edge of curiosity bled through. “It sounds like you’re protecting something. Or someone.”
Jason’s eyes, storm-gray and piercing even in his weakened state, flicked to hers. For a moment, Anika felt a strange pull, as though she were standing on the edge of something vast and unknowable. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt this with him; even in the chaos of the emergency room, when every second had counted, there had been something hauntingly familiar about him.
She broke the eye contact, shaking her head slightly as if to dispel the feeling. This wasn’t the time for distractions—not when there were lives at stake, not when she had her own walls to keep fortified.
“I’ve seen that look before,” she said, leaning forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. “Soldiers who’ve been in combat, who’ve lost people. They carry it with them, that weight. But this…” She paused, searching his face. “This feels different. It’s not just the here and now, is it?”
Jason’s jaw clenched, and he glanced away, staring at the sterile wall as though it might hold answers he couldn’t voice.
Anika studied him for a moment longer before she spoke again, her voice quieter now, almost tentative. “When you were on the table, before we sedated you… you kept saying the same thing. Protect my team.” She let the words hang in the air for a beat before continuing. “But it wasn’t just the urgency of it that stuck with me. It was the way you said it… like it wasn’t just this team. Like it was… all of them. Past, present, future. Does that make any sense to you?”
She pressed her lips into a thin line, her fingers still gripping the tablet in her lap, though she no longer glanced at it. The data there—heart rates, blood loss, surgical notes—felt almost irrelevant in the face of the man in front of her.
“It doesn’t sound complicated,” she said softly, her tone carefully measured, though the edge of curiosity bled through. “It sounds like you’re protecting something. Or someone.”
Jason’s eyes, storm-gray and piercing even in his weakened state, flicked to hers. For a moment, Anika felt a strange pull, as though she were standing on the edge of something vast and unknowable. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt this with him; even in the chaos of the emergency room, when every second had counted, there had been something hauntingly familiar about him.
She broke the eye contact, shaking her head slightly as if to dispel the feeling. This wasn’t the time for distractions—not when there were lives at stake, not when she had her own walls to keep fortified.
“I’ve seen that look before,” she said, leaning forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. “Soldiers who’ve been in combat, who’ve lost people. They carry it with them, that weight. But this…” She paused, searching his face. “This feels different. It’s not just the here and now, is it?”
Jason’s jaw clenched, and he glanced away, staring at the sterile wall as though it might hold answers he couldn’t voice.
Anika studied him for a moment longer before she spoke again, her voice quieter now, almost tentative. “When you were on the table, before we sedated you… you kept saying the same thing. Protect my team.” She let the words hang in the air for a beat before continuing. “But it wasn’t just the urgency of it that stuck with me. It was the way you said it… like it wasn’t just this team. Like it was… all of them. Past, present, future. Does that make any sense to you?”
Jason’s head turned sharply at her words, his storm-gray eyes narrowing as if he were trying to focus through a dense fog. For a long moment, he didn’t answer, and the silence between them deepened. The soft hum of the machines monitoring his vitals became a backdrop to the tension in the room.
“It makes sense…” Jason said at last, his voice low and rough, as though admitting it cost him something. “More sense than I’d like to admit.”
Jason looked to the doctor and watched Anika straightened slightly, her grip tightening on the edges of her tablet; like she was unsure what answer she had been expecting. He looked to her hazel eyes, her beautiful face… for something… some shred of clarity, but all he found was a guarded wariness.
Jason exhaled heavily, his gaze returning to the ceiling. “It’s not just one team,” he muttered, his tone distant, like he was speaking more to himself than to her. “It’s never been just one team. It’s… it’s everyone. Every life. Every damn life.”
The words hung in the air, and even his own mind, racing to make sense of what he’d just said, then he softly muttered. Every time… Every life, same shit? He looked at her after searching the floor; surely she would dismiss it as delirium, the ramblings of a man who had just been through a near-fatal trauma. But there was something in his voice… something too raw, too real, to ignore.
Jason’s head turned toward her again, his eyes darker now, shadowed by memories that clearly weighed heavily on him. “If I were to speak of it, you wouldn’t believe me,” he said after a pause, his voice tinged with resignation. “Hell, I barely believe it myself.”
“It makes sense…” Jason said at last, his voice low and rough, as though admitting it cost him something. “More sense than I’d like to admit.”
Jason looked to the doctor and watched Anika straightened slightly, her grip tightening on the edges of her tablet; like she was unsure what answer she had been expecting. He looked to her hazel eyes, her beautiful face… for something… some shred of clarity, but all he found was a guarded wariness.
Jason exhaled heavily, his gaze returning to the ceiling. “It’s not just one team,” he muttered, his tone distant, like he was speaking more to himself than to her. “It’s never been just one team. It’s… it’s everyone. Every life. Every damn life.”
The words hung in the air, and even his own mind, racing to make sense of what he’d just said, then he softly muttered. Every time… Every life, same shit? He looked at her after searching the floor; surely she would dismiss it as delirium, the ramblings of a man who had just been through a near-fatal trauma. But there was something in his voice… something too raw, too real, to ignore.
Jason’s head turned toward her again, his eyes darker now, shadowed by memories that clearly weighed heavily on him. “If I were to speak of it, you wouldn’t believe me,” he said after a pause, his voice tinged with resignation. “Hell, I barely believe it myself.”
Anika’s hazel eyes stayed locked on Jason, the guarded wariness in them now giving way to something softer—curiosity, perhaps, or even concern. She didn’t look away, even as his words lingered in the air, heavy with something unspoken. Her fingers tightened around the edges of her tablet, the cool metal grounding her in a moment that felt as if it could slip out of her grasp at any second.
“I wouldn’t believe you?” she repeated, her tone measured but with a flicker of challenge. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she tilted her head slightly, studying him. “Jason, I’m a doctor. I’ve heard people confess to things that would make most run screaming for the door. So, try me.”
Her words weren’t flippant. They carried a weight of their own, a promise that she wouldn’t brush off what he had to say—not entirely, at least. Anika had spent enough time with patients to know the difference between delirium and something deeper, something closer to truth.
She shifted her stance, leaning forward just slightly, her tablet forgotten as her focus zeroed in on him. “What you said just now… about every life… every time…” Her voice trailed off, searching his storm-gray eyes for a trace of clarity amid the chaos. “That doesn’t sound like the ramblings of someone out of it. That sounds like someone carrying the weight of something no one else can see.”
Anika hesitated, her thumb brushing over the corner of her tablet in a rare moment of uncertainty. “If you barely believe it yourself, then why say it at all? Why risk someone like me dismissing you, when you clearly think this matters?”
Her question hung in the air, her tone firm but not unkind. She took a step closer to him, her gaze unwavering. “You don’t have to convince me of anything, Jason. But if this is something you need to say—something you need someone to hear—then I’m right here.” Her voice softened, the edge melting away. “Whatever it is, I’ll listen. No judgment. No dismissing. Just… listening.”
Anika straightened slightly, giving him the space to decide what came next. Whatever burden he was carrying, she wasn’t about to let him bear it alone—not while she was in the room.
“I wouldn’t believe you?” she repeated, her tone measured but with a flicker of challenge. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she tilted her head slightly, studying him. “Jason, I’m a doctor. I’ve heard people confess to things that would make most run screaming for the door. So, try me.”
Her words weren’t flippant. They carried a weight of their own, a promise that she wouldn’t brush off what he had to say—not entirely, at least. Anika had spent enough time with patients to know the difference between delirium and something deeper, something closer to truth.
She shifted her stance, leaning forward just slightly, her tablet forgotten as her focus zeroed in on him. “What you said just now… about every life… every time…” Her voice trailed off, searching his storm-gray eyes for a trace of clarity amid the chaos. “That doesn’t sound like the ramblings of someone out of it. That sounds like someone carrying the weight of something no one else can see.”
Anika hesitated, her thumb brushing over the corner of her tablet in a rare moment of uncertainty. “If you barely believe it yourself, then why say it at all? Why risk someone like me dismissing you, when you clearly think this matters?”
Her question hung in the air, her tone firm but not unkind. She took a step closer to him, her gaze unwavering. “You don’t have to convince me of anything, Jason. But if this is something you need to say—something you need someone to hear—then I’m right here.” Her voice softened, the edge melting away. “Whatever it is, I’ll listen. No judgment. No dismissing. Just… listening.”
Anika straightened slightly, giving him the space to decide what came next. Whatever burden he was carrying, she wasn’t about to let him bear it alone—not while she was in the room.
Jason held her gaze, the storm in his eyes churning with emotion he couldn’t quite hide. For a moment, he didn’t speak, his jaw tightening as if he were wrestling with something too heavy to put into words. Anika’s openness… her calm, measured invitation… seemed to unnerve him, not because it was unwelcome but because it left him exposed. Vulnerable. And he wasn’t used to that.
He let out a slow, deliberate breath, his head tilting back slightly against the pillow. His hand flexed on the thin blanket, the movement small but telling… a man bracing himself for impact. “You don’t scare easy, do you, Doc?” he asked, his voice low, almost wry, though it carried no real humor. Jason’s lips twitched in the faintest shadow of a smile, but it didn’t last.
He turned his head slightly, his gaze drifting toward the sterile ceiling. “Alright,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. “You wanted to know, so I’ll give it to you straight.”
He looked back at her, and in his eyes was a rawness that made her breath hitch… an exhaustion that went deeper than his wounds, rooted in something much older. “When I said every life, I meant it…” he began. His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it, like he was dragging the words up from some dark, buried place. “I’ve lived… lives. Plural. And not in some vague ‘I-have-a-sense-of-the-past’ kind of way. I remember them… bits and pieces, fragments of things that shouldn’t belong to me but do. Faces, places, moments I couldn’t have lived through in this lifetime but still feel like they’re mine.”
He paused, his storm-gray eyes locking onto hers again. “And you? You were there. Every time...”
He blinked, but he paused…his expression steady even as his pulse quickened…. The monitor began to beep, monitoring the hastening pulse rate. Oddly, the blood pressure decreased instead of rising.
“I know how this sounds…” Jason continued, his tone softening, though the intensity didn’t fade. “I wouldn’t believe it either if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. But I can’t deny what I’ve felt… what I’ve seen… in vague visions… every time I look at you. It’s like… like… a thread tying everything together. Like we’ve been doing this same damn dance over and over, across lifetimes, across… I don’t even know what. Time, fate, whatever you want to call it.” The monitor resounded as his blood pressure decreased instead of rising as expected with an increasing pulse….
He leaned his head back again, his eyes closing briefly as if even saying it aloud took more out of him than he’d expected. “I tried to ignore it at first. To tell myself it was just déjà vu or some kind of trauma messing with my head. But then you walked into that trauma bay, and the second I saw you…”
He shook his head, his lips pressing into a grim line. “It wasn’t just a memory. It was a certainty. I have seen you in a variety of times… like the Vikings…medieval days… old West… hell even in the 1920’s, all the gangsters… Shit… Fuck lady… I didn’t dream this shit up….” Now the monitors squeaked as his blood pressure finally started to skyrocket….
Jason opened his eyes again quickly, looking at her reaction carefully, figuring she thought he was bug-nuts… “You asked why I said it,” he said, his voice softer now, almost resigned. “Why risk telling you? Because I think you and I are linked… and figured you’ve felt it too. And if I’m wrong, if you think I’m just some crazy soldier with a head injury, then fine. But if I’m right…”
He let the thought hang, his gaze never leaving hers. “If I’m right, then you already know this isn’t just about me.”
He let out a slow, deliberate breath, his head tilting back slightly against the pillow. His hand flexed on the thin blanket, the movement small but telling… a man bracing himself for impact. “You don’t scare easy, do you, Doc?” he asked, his voice low, almost wry, though it carried no real humor. Jason’s lips twitched in the faintest shadow of a smile, but it didn’t last.
He turned his head slightly, his gaze drifting toward the sterile ceiling. “Alright,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. “You wanted to know, so I’ll give it to you straight.”
He looked back at her, and in his eyes was a rawness that made her breath hitch… an exhaustion that went deeper than his wounds, rooted in something much older. “When I said every life, I meant it…” he began. His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it, like he was dragging the words up from some dark, buried place. “I’ve lived… lives. Plural. And not in some vague ‘I-have-a-sense-of-the-past’ kind of way. I remember them… bits and pieces, fragments of things that shouldn’t belong to me but do. Faces, places, moments I couldn’t have lived through in this lifetime but still feel like they’re mine.”
He paused, his storm-gray eyes locking onto hers again. “And you? You were there. Every time...”
He blinked, but he paused…his expression steady even as his pulse quickened…. The monitor began to beep, monitoring the hastening pulse rate. Oddly, the blood pressure decreased instead of rising.
“I know how this sounds…” Jason continued, his tone softening, though the intensity didn’t fade. “I wouldn’t believe it either if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. But I can’t deny what I’ve felt… what I’ve seen… in vague visions… every time I look at you. It’s like… like… a thread tying everything together. Like we’ve been doing this same damn dance over and over, across lifetimes, across… I don’t even know what. Time, fate, whatever you want to call it.” The monitor resounded as his blood pressure decreased instead of rising as expected with an increasing pulse….
He leaned his head back again, his eyes closing briefly as if even saying it aloud took more out of him than he’d expected. “I tried to ignore it at first. To tell myself it was just déjà vu or some kind of trauma messing with my head. But then you walked into that trauma bay, and the second I saw you…”
He shook his head, his lips pressing into a grim line. “It wasn’t just a memory. It was a certainty. I have seen you in a variety of times… like the Vikings…medieval days… old West… hell even in the 1920’s, all the gangsters… Shit… Fuck lady… I didn’t dream this shit up….” Now the monitors squeaked as his blood pressure finally started to skyrocket….
Jason opened his eyes again quickly, looking at her reaction carefully, figuring she thought he was bug-nuts… “You asked why I said it,” he said, his voice softer now, almost resigned. “Why risk telling you? Because I think you and I are linked… and figured you’ve felt it too. And if I’m wrong, if you think I’m just some crazy soldier with a head injury, then fine. But if I’m right…”
He let the thought hang, his gaze never leaving hers. “If I’m right, then you already know this isn’t just about me.”
Anika didn’t move immediately. She didn’t blink, didn’t breathe too loudly, and certainly didn’t look away. Jason’s words hung in the air, electric, surreal, and impossible… yet they sparked something deep in her—a quiet, unshakable truth she couldn’t explain.
The erratic beeping of the monitor barely registered in her mind, though the nurse in her instinctively noted the strange mismatch of his pulse and blood pressure. It was like his body was reacting to an unseen force—an unquantifiable storm brewing inside him. And inside her.
Forcing herself to break the silence, Anika leaned forward, her gaze locked onto his, unwavering. “Jason,” she said softly, her voice calm and steady but carrying an undercurrent of something deeper—an emotion she wasn’t ready to name. “You’re not crazy.”
The moment the words left her lips, she knew they weren’t just meant to reassure him. They were the truth. As surreal as his story sounded, there was no dismissing the pull she’d felt the second she met him—the familiarity that wasn’t just comforting but consuming, like a fire lit in her chest that she hadn’t realized had always been smoldering.
“I… don’t know how to explain it,” she admitted, her tone almost confessional. Her hand moved instinctively, brushing against his as if to anchor him—or maybe herself. “But I’ve felt it too. Like… déjà vu, but more. Like I already know what you’re going to say before you say it. Like I’ve dreamed you before, even though that’s impossible.”
She let out a soft, shaky laugh, more out of disbelief at her own words than amusement. “I’ve spent my life trying to rationalize everything, you know? Science. Facts. Things I can measure and understand. But this? This doesn’t fit into a box.” Her eyes searched his, her fingers curling slightly against his. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not real.”
Anika’s voice softened further as she leaned closer, her face open, her expression both wary and trusting. “You said you’ve seen me before. In other times. Other lives.” She paused, her throat tightening as emotions she couldn’t quite name swirled inside her. “What was I like?”
The question wasn’t born of skepticism. It was a plea—a desperate need to understand the impossible, to anchor herself in whatever this was. If Jason’s certainty was real, she needed to know. Because, somehow, she already felt that the answer might change everything.
The erratic beeping of the monitor barely registered in her mind, though the nurse in her instinctively noted the strange mismatch of his pulse and blood pressure. It was like his body was reacting to an unseen force—an unquantifiable storm brewing inside him. And inside her.
Forcing herself to break the silence, Anika leaned forward, her gaze locked onto his, unwavering. “Jason,” she said softly, her voice calm and steady but carrying an undercurrent of something deeper—an emotion she wasn’t ready to name. “You’re not crazy.”
The moment the words left her lips, she knew they weren’t just meant to reassure him. They were the truth. As surreal as his story sounded, there was no dismissing the pull she’d felt the second she met him—the familiarity that wasn’t just comforting but consuming, like a fire lit in her chest that she hadn’t realized had always been smoldering.
“I… don’t know how to explain it,” she admitted, her tone almost confessional. Her hand moved instinctively, brushing against his as if to anchor him—or maybe herself. “But I’ve felt it too. Like… déjà vu, but more. Like I already know what you’re going to say before you say it. Like I’ve dreamed you before, even though that’s impossible.”
She let out a soft, shaky laugh, more out of disbelief at her own words than amusement. “I’ve spent my life trying to rationalize everything, you know? Science. Facts. Things I can measure and understand. But this? This doesn’t fit into a box.” Her eyes searched his, her fingers curling slightly against his. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not real.”
Anika’s voice softened further as she leaned closer, her face open, her expression both wary and trusting. “You said you’ve seen me before. In other times. Other lives.” She paused, her throat tightening as emotions she couldn’t quite name swirled inside her. “What was I like?”
The question wasn’t born of skepticism. It was a plea—a desperate need to understand the impossible, to anchor herself in whatever this was. If Jason’s certainty was real, she needed to know. Because, somehow, she already felt that the answer might change everything.
Jason’s voice dropped, his words laced with a quiet intensity as he began to explain. “Every time, it’s us. Different lives, different names, different circumstances… but it’s always us. And every time, we start as two people who should never work… opposites, caught in the chaos of our worlds… but somehow, we always find a way. We overcome the odds, the turbulence, whatever’s in our path, and we become something more. Stronger. Unstoppable. Together, we’ve built legacies. We’ve defied everything thrown at us, whether it’s war, betrayal, or violence.”
He paused, leaning back against the pillows as his storm-gray eyes bore into hers. “But here’s the thing… every time it ends, it’s like a curtain falls. I remember the start, the fight to survive, the triumphs… but then? Nothing. Every life’s outcome together is a blank. No answers. No resolution. Just an emptiness that feels… not right.”
Anika was frozen in place, her hazel eyes wide as she listened. She could see it in his expression… the weight of centuries pressing down on him, memories he couldn’t escape. He wasn’t telling her a story. He was unearthing pieces of a puzzle he’d carried for longer than she could imagine.
“In the third century,” Jason continued, his voice taking on a distant quality as if he were speaking from another time, “we were Jerick and Sigrid. Two Viking warriors… fierce, stubborn, unstoppable. We grew up together, fought side-by-side, and eventually married. I remember standing on the deck of a longship, your hair wild in the wind, the fire in your eyes when you laughed. We were invincible. Until… we weren’t. I don’t know how it ended, or when. I just know it did.”
He hesitated, watching her reaction, but when she didn’t interrupt, he pressed on. “Centuries later, we were Jaiden, a warrior, the Commander of the King’s Vanguard and Dheena, the Wicked Rose of Aramon, the coldest bitch in the nation… an arranged marriage between two medieval noble houses, the House Ravenshield in Valeria, and the highest House in the Dominion of Aramon. We didn’t choose each other, it was arranged… but somewhere along the way, we found love anyway. We stood against betrayal, politics, even war. And somehow, we made it work. I can still see the candlelit halls of the Sun Chapel where we exchanged vows. But again, the ending… it’s blank.”
Anika’s breath caught, her fingers tightening on the edge of the chair. The images he painted were vivid, almost haunting, as if she could see fragments of them flickering in the back of her mind.
“Then came Jake and Anna,” Jason said, his lips curving into a faint, bittersweet smile. “The frontier, 1870s. You were fiery and fearless, and I was just a man trying to survive in a violent world. You shot me the first time we met,” he added, a shadow of humor creeping into his tone. “But somehow, we built something wild and dangerous, carving out a life in the chaos. We turned violence into prosperity, built a ranch, a legacy. And yet… the ending’s a void.”
He sat forward slightly now, the intensity in his gaze sharpening. “And then there was Jared and Rebecca. Early 20th century. I was a gangster… cold, ruthless… and you were a target, a woman I kidnapped for ransom. But you turned the tables, helped me keep the ransom money, and we built something no one else could’ve imagined. A family. A mob. We were untouchable. Until we weren’t.”
Jason leaned back again, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of his words had drained him. “And now… here we are. Jason and Anika. A Marine Corps Captain and a doctor. Two people with dark pasts, drawn together by… something. Fate, destiny, I don’t know. But I can feel it, just like I’ve felt it in every life before this one.”
Anika’s heart raced, her mind a whirlwind of emotions… disbelief, awe, confusion. The way he spoke, the vivid details, the raw conviction in his voice… it wasn’t something she could dismiss. And deep down, she felt it too. That strange pull she’d been trying to ignore. That sense of déjà vu she couldn’t shake.
“But here’s the question, Anika,” Jason said quietly, his storm-gray eyes locked on hers. “If this thread—this fate—keeps pulling us together, why does it always end the same way? Why does it always end? And now that we’re here again… are we just doomed to repeat it? Or can we finally break the cycle?”
The room was silent, the air thick with unspoken possibilities. Anika felt the weight of his question settle over her, but she didn’t have an answer. Not yet. All she knew was that something had shifted, and nothing in her life would ever be the same again.
He paused, leaning back against the pillows as his storm-gray eyes bore into hers. “But here’s the thing… every time it ends, it’s like a curtain falls. I remember the start, the fight to survive, the triumphs… but then? Nothing. Every life’s outcome together is a blank. No answers. No resolution. Just an emptiness that feels… not right.”
Anika was frozen in place, her hazel eyes wide as she listened. She could see it in his expression… the weight of centuries pressing down on him, memories he couldn’t escape. He wasn’t telling her a story. He was unearthing pieces of a puzzle he’d carried for longer than she could imagine.
“In the third century,” Jason continued, his voice taking on a distant quality as if he were speaking from another time, “we were Jerick and Sigrid. Two Viking warriors… fierce, stubborn, unstoppable. We grew up together, fought side-by-side, and eventually married. I remember standing on the deck of a longship, your hair wild in the wind, the fire in your eyes when you laughed. We were invincible. Until… we weren’t. I don’t know how it ended, or when. I just know it did.”
He hesitated, watching her reaction, but when she didn’t interrupt, he pressed on. “Centuries later, we were Jaiden, a warrior, the Commander of the King’s Vanguard and Dheena, the Wicked Rose of Aramon, the coldest bitch in the nation… an arranged marriage between two medieval noble houses, the House Ravenshield in Valeria, and the highest House in the Dominion of Aramon. We didn’t choose each other, it was arranged… but somewhere along the way, we found love anyway. We stood against betrayal, politics, even war. And somehow, we made it work. I can still see the candlelit halls of the Sun Chapel where we exchanged vows. But again, the ending… it’s blank.”
Anika’s breath caught, her fingers tightening on the edge of the chair. The images he painted were vivid, almost haunting, as if she could see fragments of them flickering in the back of her mind.
“Then came Jake and Anna,” Jason said, his lips curving into a faint, bittersweet smile. “The frontier, 1870s. You were fiery and fearless, and I was just a man trying to survive in a violent world. You shot me the first time we met,” he added, a shadow of humor creeping into his tone. “But somehow, we built something wild and dangerous, carving out a life in the chaos. We turned violence into prosperity, built a ranch, a legacy. And yet… the ending’s a void.”
He sat forward slightly now, the intensity in his gaze sharpening. “And then there was Jared and Rebecca. Early 20th century. I was a gangster… cold, ruthless… and you were a target, a woman I kidnapped for ransom. But you turned the tables, helped me keep the ransom money, and we built something no one else could’ve imagined. A family. A mob. We were untouchable. Until we weren’t.”
Jason leaned back again, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of his words had drained him. “And now… here we are. Jason and Anika. A Marine Corps Captain and a doctor. Two people with dark pasts, drawn together by… something. Fate, destiny, I don’t know. But I can feel it, just like I’ve felt it in every life before this one.”
Anika’s heart raced, her mind a whirlwind of emotions… disbelief, awe, confusion. The way he spoke, the vivid details, the raw conviction in his voice… it wasn’t something she could dismiss. And deep down, she felt it too. That strange pull she’d been trying to ignore. That sense of déjà vu she couldn’t shake.
“But here’s the question, Anika,” Jason said quietly, his storm-gray eyes locked on hers. “If this thread—this fate—keeps pulling us together, why does it always end the same way? Why does it always end? And now that we’re here again… are we just doomed to repeat it? Or can we finally break the cycle?”
The room was silent, the air thick with unspoken possibilities. Anika felt the weight of his question settle over her, but she didn’t have an answer. Not yet. All she knew was that something had shifted, and nothing in her life would ever be the same again.
Anika sat motionless, her fingers gripping the armrest of her chair as Jason’s words settled into the deepest corners of her mind. Her hazel eyes shimmered with something unnameable—confusion, fear, and a flicker of recognition she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. The sheer weight of what he’d just said hung between them like a storm cloud, crackling with unanswered questions and emotions too vast to comprehend.
Her voice, when it finally came, was softer than she expected, barely more than a whisper. “Jason, you’re talking about lifetimes… centuries of lifetimes. Viking warriors, noble houses, frontier outlaws… this isn’t something I can just…” She trailed off, her throat tightening. Dismiss? Believe? Understand? None of the words seemed right.
She forced herself to meet his gaze, those storm-gray eyes filled with an unshakable conviction that both terrified and grounded her. “You say it’s always been us, that we’ve fought and loved and lost each other over and over again. But how do you know? How can you be so sure? Memories fade, dreams blur. What if this is just… wishful thinking? Or something else entirely?”
Her words faltered as flashes of images danced at the edge of her mind—wild hair caught in the wind, the warmth of candlelight, the sharp crack of a gunshot, the faint scent of fresh earth. She blinked hard, shaking her head as if to dispel them, but they lingered, stubborn and unyielding.
“I’m a doctor, Jason. I deal in facts, science, logic. Not… reincarnation or destiny.” Her voice wavered slightly, betraying the turmoil roiling beneath the surface. “And yet…” She paused, swallowing hard. “And yet, I can’t explain why I feel like I’ve known you forever. Why I look at you and feel…”
She exhaled shakily, her words tumbling out before she could stop them. “Like I’ve found something I wasn’t even looking for, something I didn’t know I’d lost.”
The room seemed to shrink around them, the weight of her admission hanging in the air. Anika bit her lip, her mind racing. “But what if you’re right?” she asked, her tone almost pleading. “What if this really is fate, or some thread tying us together? How do we stop it from unraveling again? How do we fight against something we don’t even understand?”
Her fingers tightened on the armrest, her knuckles white. “And what if we can’t? What if this is just… doomed to end the way it always has? What if we’re just setting ourselves up for heartbreak all over again?”
Her gaze softened as she searched his face, trying to anchor herself in the steadiness she saw there. “Jason, I don’t know if I can go through something like that. Not if it ends the way you say it always does. Not if it means losing you… again.”
Her voice broke on the last word, the vulnerability she’d spent years shielding herself from slipping through the cracks. But even as the fear coursed through her, something deeper stirred—a quiet, undeniable pull toward him, toward the possibility of something greater than herself. Something worth risking everything for.
“So tell me,” she said finally, her voice steadier now, her eyes locking with his. “If we’re going to do this—if we’re going to try to break whatever cycle we’re caught in—where do we even begin?”
Her voice, when it finally came, was softer than she expected, barely more than a whisper. “Jason, you’re talking about lifetimes… centuries of lifetimes. Viking warriors, noble houses, frontier outlaws… this isn’t something I can just…” She trailed off, her throat tightening. Dismiss? Believe? Understand? None of the words seemed right.
She forced herself to meet his gaze, those storm-gray eyes filled with an unshakable conviction that both terrified and grounded her. “You say it’s always been us, that we’ve fought and loved and lost each other over and over again. But how do you know? How can you be so sure? Memories fade, dreams blur. What if this is just… wishful thinking? Or something else entirely?”
Her words faltered as flashes of images danced at the edge of her mind—wild hair caught in the wind, the warmth of candlelight, the sharp crack of a gunshot, the faint scent of fresh earth. She blinked hard, shaking her head as if to dispel them, but they lingered, stubborn and unyielding.
“I’m a doctor, Jason. I deal in facts, science, logic. Not… reincarnation or destiny.” Her voice wavered slightly, betraying the turmoil roiling beneath the surface. “And yet…” She paused, swallowing hard. “And yet, I can’t explain why I feel like I’ve known you forever. Why I look at you and feel…”
She exhaled shakily, her words tumbling out before she could stop them. “Like I’ve found something I wasn’t even looking for, something I didn’t know I’d lost.”
The room seemed to shrink around them, the weight of her admission hanging in the air. Anika bit her lip, her mind racing. “But what if you’re right?” she asked, her tone almost pleading. “What if this really is fate, or some thread tying us together? How do we stop it from unraveling again? How do we fight against something we don’t even understand?”
Her fingers tightened on the armrest, her knuckles white. “And what if we can’t? What if this is just… doomed to end the way it always has? What if we’re just setting ourselves up for heartbreak all over again?”
Her gaze softened as she searched his face, trying to anchor herself in the steadiness she saw there. “Jason, I don’t know if I can go through something like that. Not if it ends the way you say it always does. Not if it means losing you… again.”
Her voice broke on the last word, the vulnerability she’d spent years shielding herself from slipping through the cracks. But even as the fear coursed through her, something deeper stirred—a quiet, undeniable pull toward him, toward the possibility of something greater than herself. Something worth risking everything for.
“So tell me,” she said finally, her voice steadier now, her eyes locking with his. “If we’re going to do this—if we’re going to try to break whatever cycle we’re caught in—where do we even begin?”
Jason exhaled slowly, his fingers brushing absently against the hospital blanket, his storm-gray eyes never leaving hers. He hadn’t expected her to believe him outright… hell, he wasn’t sure he wanted her to. He’d spent so long keeping these memories locked away, convincing himself that maybe he was losing it, that maybe they were just dreams or trauma playing tricks on him. But hearing her say it, even hesitantly, even with fear in her voice… it was enough to make his pulse pound. For the first time in all the lives he remembered, she was asking where to begin.
He hesitated, searching for the right words, knowing one wrong move could push her away. This wasn’t a mission where he could strategize the next move or fight his way to a solution. This was her… the woman he had found, lost, and found… repeatedly… again, staring at him with the kind of uncertainty that could unravel everything before it even started. “You’re right,” he admitted, his voice rough, edged with something raw. “This isn’t something you can just accept. And I know how crazy it sounds.” His lips pressed into a thin line before he continued, his tone quieter now. “You asked me how I know. How I can be so sure.”
Jason swallowed hard, his fingers flexing as if he were holding something invisible. “Because I feel it the same way you do. Because I’ve lived my entire life with a sense that I was searching for something I couldn’t name. That every moment of victory, every loss, every goddamn scar led me to something… or someone… I had already known.” His gaze darkened, the weight of his memories pressing into his words. “Because when I woke up on that stretcher, bleeding out, fading in and out of consciousness, the first thing I saw was *you*. And I *knew*.”
He leaned forward, wincing slightly as the movement sent a sharp pang through his healing body. But he didn’t stop. He needed her to hear this. “I know because every time I see you, it’s like waking up from a dream I didn’t know I was having. Like I’ve spent lifetimes trying to reach you, and every time I get close, something rips it away.”
Jason let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “And maybe you’re right. Maybe this is doomed to end the way it always does. Maybe whatever force is pulling the strings has already decided how this story ends.” His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper now. “But what if it hasn’t? What if this is the first time we get to choose? What if this is the one life where we don’t let it slip through our fingers?”
He met her gaze again, something fierce and unyielding burning behind his eyes. “You asked where we begin?” He exhaled sharply, considering. “We start by not running. By not pretending this is some coincidence or something we can ignore. We start by remembering.”
Jason ran a hand through his hair, frustrated by the impossibility of it all. “I don’t have all the answers, Anika. I wish I did. I wish I could tell you there’s a map to follow, some clear path to breaking whatever this is. But all I know is that in every life, we fought through hell together, and this time?” His jaw clenched. “This time, I’m not letting go without a fight.”
He reached forward then, slowly, carefully, his fingers brushing over the back of her hand. It was a tentative, fleeting touch… one that carried lifetimes of meaning. “But you have to want to fight too,” he murmured. “Because I can’t do this alone. And I won’t force you into something you don’t believe in.”
Jason let his hand drop, but his gaze never wavered. “So tell me, Anika… do you feel it? Even if you don’t understand it. Even if it terrifies you. Do you feel it?”
He hesitated, searching for the right words, knowing one wrong move could push her away. This wasn’t a mission where he could strategize the next move or fight his way to a solution. This was her… the woman he had found, lost, and found… repeatedly… again, staring at him with the kind of uncertainty that could unravel everything before it even started. “You’re right,” he admitted, his voice rough, edged with something raw. “This isn’t something you can just accept. And I know how crazy it sounds.” His lips pressed into a thin line before he continued, his tone quieter now. “You asked me how I know. How I can be so sure.”
Jason swallowed hard, his fingers flexing as if he were holding something invisible. “Because I feel it the same way you do. Because I’ve lived my entire life with a sense that I was searching for something I couldn’t name. That every moment of victory, every loss, every goddamn scar led me to something… or someone… I had already known.” His gaze darkened, the weight of his memories pressing into his words. “Because when I woke up on that stretcher, bleeding out, fading in and out of consciousness, the first thing I saw was *you*. And I *knew*.”
He leaned forward, wincing slightly as the movement sent a sharp pang through his healing body. But he didn’t stop. He needed her to hear this. “I know because every time I see you, it’s like waking up from a dream I didn’t know I was having. Like I’ve spent lifetimes trying to reach you, and every time I get close, something rips it away.”
Jason let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “And maybe you’re right. Maybe this is doomed to end the way it always does. Maybe whatever force is pulling the strings has already decided how this story ends.” His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper now. “But what if it hasn’t? What if this is the first time we get to choose? What if this is the one life where we don’t let it slip through our fingers?”
He met her gaze again, something fierce and unyielding burning behind his eyes. “You asked where we begin?” He exhaled sharply, considering. “We start by not running. By not pretending this is some coincidence or something we can ignore. We start by remembering.”
Jason ran a hand through his hair, frustrated by the impossibility of it all. “I don’t have all the answers, Anika. I wish I did. I wish I could tell you there’s a map to follow, some clear path to breaking whatever this is. But all I know is that in every life, we fought through hell together, and this time?” His jaw clenched. “This time, I’m not letting go without a fight.”
He reached forward then, slowly, carefully, his fingers brushing over the back of her hand. It was a tentative, fleeting touch… one that carried lifetimes of meaning. “But you have to want to fight too,” he murmured. “Because I can’t do this alone. And I won’t force you into something you don’t believe in.”
Jason let his hand drop, but his gaze never wavered. “So tell me, Anika… do you feel it? Even if you don’t understand it. Even if it terrifies you. Do you feel it?”
The silence between them stretched, heavy with the weight of centuries.
And then, slowly, almost imperceptibly… she nodded.
And then, slowly, almost imperceptibly… she nodded.
Anika’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse a frantic rhythm against the weight of his words. Do you feel it?
She wanted to say no. She wanted to rationalize, to dissect, to cast doubt on everything he had just laid bare between them. Because if she said yes—if she admitted that she did feel it, that every time she looked at him it was like waking from a dream she couldn't quite remember—then she would have to accept that everything she had ever known was a lie.
And yet, as she held his gaze, as she saw the sheer conviction, the raw desperation that bled through his storm-gray eyes, she knew the truth.
She had always known.
Her fingers curled slightly against the blanket, her body rigid, as if bracing for impact. This was impossible. It was insane. But the ache in her chest, the way her soul twisted at the thought of letting him go, was more real than anything she could explain.
So when she finally nodded, it wasn’t just an acknowledgment of his words—it was an unspoken confession of everything she had spent her life trying to ignore.
Jason’s exhale was almost shaky, as if he had been holding his breath waiting for her answer. His hand still hovered close, as if he didn’t quite trust that she wouldn’t vanish the moment he let himself reach for her again.
Anika swallowed hard, her voice quiet but steady. “I don’t understand it,” she admitted, the words almost painful to say. “I don’t know how any of this is possible. But…” She hesitated, fingers tightening into the fabric beneath them. “But I do feel it.”
Saying it aloud sent a shiver down her spine, as if the very universe had been waiting for her to admit it.
She let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. “God, this is crazy.”
Jason smirked faintly, the ghost of something softer in his expression, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maybe. But so is pretending we don’t feel it.”
Anika looked away for a moment, staring at the hospital wall as if the answer would be written somewhere between the cracks of reality and impossibility. But there was no escaping this. No running from it.
Her gaze found his again, this time steadier. “Okay,” she murmured, the weight of her decision settling between them. “We remember.”
Jason’s jaw tightened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. “Yeah,” he murmured. “We remember.”
And for the first time in countless lifetimes, neither of them ran.
She wanted to say no. She wanted to rationalize, to dissect, to cast doubt on everything he had just laid bare between them. Because if she said yes—if she admitted that she did feel it, that every time she looked at him it was like waking from a dream she couldn't quite remember—then she would have to accept that everything she had ever known was a lie.
And yet, as she held his gaze, as she saw the sheer conviction, the raw desperation that bled through his storm-gray eyes, she knew the truth.
She had always known.
Her fingers curled slightly against the blanket, her body rigid, as if bracing for impact. This was impossible. It was insane. But the ache in her chest, the way her soul twisted at the thought of letting him go, was more real than anything she could explain.
So when she finally nodded, it wasn’t just an acknowledgment of his words—it was an unspoken confession of everything she had spent her life trying to ignore.
Jason’s exhale was almost shaky, as if he had been holding his breath waiting for her answer. His hand still hovered close, as if he didn’t quite trust that she wouldn’t vanish the moment he let himself reach for her again.
Anika swallowed hard, her voice quiet but steady. “I don’t understand it,” she admitted, the words almost painful to say. “I don’t know how any of this is possible. But…” She hesitated, fingers tightening into the fabric beneath them. “But I do feel it.”
Saying it aloud sent a shiver down her spine, as if the very universe had been waiting for her to admit it.
She let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. “God, this is crazy.”
Jason smirked faintly, the ghost of something softer in his expression, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maybe. But so is pretending we don’t feel it.”
Anika looked away for a moment, staring at the hospital wall as if the answer would be written somewhere between the cracks of reality and impossibility. But there was no escaping this. No running from it.
Her gaze found his again, this time steadier. “Okay,” she murmured, the weight of her decision settling between them. “We remember.”
Jason’s jaw tightened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. “Yeah,” he murmured. “We remember.”
And for the first time in countless lifetimes, neither of them ran.
Jason watched her, barely breathing, as if one wrong move would shatter the fragile reality between them. Her nod… small, hesitant, but undeniable… was the moment he hadn’t dared to hope for. For so many lifetimes, he had been the one left remembering, grasping at fragments of a past no one else seemed to see. But now, here she was, standing at the same precipice, feeling the same impossible pull.
And this time, she wasn’t running.
His throat tightened, a storm of emotions colliding in his chest. Relief. Fear. Something dangerously close to hope. He had prepared himself for disbelief, for rejection, for the weight of knowing and being alone in it. But not this. Not her choosing to believe, despite every instinct telling her to do otherwise. Jason let out a slow, measured breath, as if exhaling might somehow ground him in this moment. His fingers curled against the thin hospital blanket, not quite reaching for her, but close. Close enough to feel the warmth of her presence, the tether that had always been there, just beyond his grasp.
When she spoke, her voice quiet but sure, it sent a shiver down his spine. We remember. The words were so simple, and yet they held the weight of centuries. A vow, a challenge, a whispered defiance against whatever force had spent lifetimes pulling them apart. Jason's smirk faded, replaced by something deeper… something unreadable. He nodded, a slow, deliberate movement, before finally allowing himself to reach for her hand, the tips of his fingers brushing against hers. It was tentative at first, an unspoken question hanging in the air between them. When she didn’t pull away, he let his fingers close over hers, his grip firm but not demanding. Just there.
“Then we do this together,” he murmured, his voice low, steady, but carrying the weight of an unshakable promise. “No more running. No more pretending we don’t know what this is.”
Anika swallowed, her fingers tightening slightly against his. “But what if remembering just leads us back to the same ending?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if nothing we do changes anything?”
Jason exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Then we fight it. We break the pattern. We don’t let whatever force keeps ripping us apart win this time.” His thumb brushed absently over the back of her hand, as if anchoring himself to the feel of her, to the reality of her in this moment. “If this is fate, if something wants this to keep happening, then there has to be a reason. And I’m not about to let it control us anymore.”
She searched his face, her hazel eyes flickering with doubt, with fear, but also with something else. Something resolute.
Jason squeezed her hand, leaning forward just enough that she could see the fierce determination in his expression. “Anika, in every life I’ve remembered, we’ve fought for something. A kingdom. A legacy. A future.” His voice dropped to something almost reverent. “But maybe this time, what we’re fighting for is us.”
The words sent a shiver through her, and Jason felt it too. He could see the battle in her eyes, the war between logic and something deeper, something more primal. But she didn’t let go. She didn’t let him go. Instead, she took a slow breath, her gaze unwavering.
Jason let out a quiet, almost disbelieving chuckle, shaking his head as something in his chest uncoiled, something that had been wound tight for far too long. “Hell of a way to start this,” he muttered, but there was a rare softness in his expression, a flicker of something lighter in the storm. Jason smiled at her, his thumb tracing one last, fleeting circle against her skin before he pulled away, though the connection between them didn’t break… it only shifted. “Then let’s start?” he said simply, his voice carrying the weight of not just this moment, but all the ones before. And for the first time in countless lifetimes, they chose to stand together.
And this time, she wasn’t running.
His throat tightened, a storm of emotions colliding in his chest. Relief. Fear. Something dangerously close to hope. He had prepared himself for disbelief, for rejection, for the weight of knowing and being alone in it. But not this. Not her choosing to believe, despite every instinct telling her to do otherwise. Jason let out a slow, measured breath, as if exhaling might somehow ground him in this moment. His fingers curled against the thin hospital blanket, not quite reaching for her, but close. Close enough to feel the warmth of her presence, the tether that had always been there, just beyond his grasp.
When she spoke, her voice quiet but sure, it sent a shiver down his spine. We remember. The words were so simple, and yet they held the weight of centuries. A vow, a challenge, a whispered defiance against whatever force had spent lifetimes pulling them apart. Jason's smirk faded, replaced by something deeper… something unreadable. He nodded, a slow, deliberate movement, before finally allowing himself to reach for her hand, the tips of his fingers brushing against hers. It was tentative at first, an unspoken question hanging in the air between them. When she didn’t pull away, he let his fingers close over hers, his grip firm but not demanding. Just there.
“Then we do this together,” he murmured, his voice low, steady, but carrying the weight of an unshakable promise. “No more running. No more pretending we don’t know what this is.”
Anika swallowed, her fingers tightening slightly against his. “But what if remembering just leads us back to the same ending?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if nothing we do changes anything?”
Jason exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Then we fight it. We break the pattern. We don’t let whatever force keeps ripping us apart win this time.” His thumb brushed absently over the back of her hand, as if anchoring himself to the feel of her, to the reality of her in this moment. “If this is fate, if something wants this to keep happening, then there has to be a reason. And I’m not about to let it control us anymore.”
She searched his face, her hazel eyes flickering with doubt, with fear, but also with something else. Something resolute.
Jason squeezed her hand, leaning forward just enough that she could see the fierce determination in his expression. “Anika, in every life I’ve remembered, we’ve fought for something. A kingdom. A legacy. A future.” His voice dropped to something almost reverent. “But maybe this time, what we’re fighting for is us.”
The words sent a shiver through her, and Jason felt it too. He could see the battle in her eyes, the war between logic and something deeper, something more primal. But she didn’t let go. She didn’t let him go. Instead, she took a slow breath, her gaze unwavering.
Jason let out a quiet, almost disbelieving chuckle, shaking his head as something in his chest uncoiled, something that had been wound tight for far too long. “Hell of a way to start this,” he muttered, but there was a rare softness in his expression, a flicker of something lighter in the storm. Jason smiled at her, his thumb tracing one last, fleeting circle against her skin before he pulled away, though the connection between them didn’t break… it only shifted. “Then let’s start?” he said simply, his voice carrying the weight of not just this moment, but all the ones before. And for the first time in countless lifetimes, they chose to stand together.
Anika exhaled slowly, as if the weight of countless lives pressed against her ribs, urging her to run, to recoil, to do anything but what she was about to do. But she didn’t.
She stayed.
Her fingers curled tighter around his, testing the solidity of his presence, grounding herself in the warmth of his skin. Jason had always remembered—she had always doubted. But not this time. This time, she could feel it, the echoes of something deeper than memory, something written into the marrow of her bones.
She searched his face, every shadow, every line etched from battles fought and lost across time. And in his eyes, she saw the same relentless pull that had haunted her dreams, the same unspoken longing she had spent lifetimes trying to ignore. But she wasn’t ignoring it now.
She wasn’t running.
Anika let out a breathless, almost self-mocking laugh, shaking her head. “This is insane,” she whispered, but her grip on him didn’t loosen. “We’re insane.”
A pause. A heartbeat.
Anika wet her lips, her mind screaming at her to think, to reason, to question—but her soul, her soul, was already answering.
“No,” she murmured, and it was a vow.
She took a step closer, and this time, she was the one to close the space between them. “We break the pattern,” she said, voice quieter now, as if saying it any louder might shatter the moment. “Even if it kills us.”
She smirked, but there was something solemn beneath it, something raw.
“If we’ve done this before,” she murmured, her fingers brushing against his one last time before finally—finally—she laced them fully together, “then we’ve already proven that death doesn’t mean the end.”
She stayed.
Her fingers curled tighter around his, testing the solidity of his presence, grounding herself in the warmth of his skin. Jason had always remembered—she had always doubted. But not this time. This time, she could feel it, the echoes of something deeper than memory, something written into the marrow of her bones.
She searched his face, every shadow, every line etched from battles fought and lost across time. And in his eyes, she saw the same relentless pull that had haunted her dreams, the same unspoken longing she had spent lifetimes trying to ignore. But she wasn’t ignoring it now.
She wasn’t running.
Anika let out a breathless, almost self-mocking laugh, shaking her head. “This is insane,” she whispered, but her grip on him didn’t loosen. “We’re insane.”
A pause. A heartbeat.
Anika wet her lips, her mind screaming at her to think, to reason, to question—but her soul, her soul, was already answering.
“No,” she murmured, and it was a vow.
She took a step closer, and this time, she was the one to close the space between them. “We break the pattern,” she said, voice quieter now, as if saying it any louder might shatter the moment. “Even if it kills us.”
She smirked, but there was something solemn beneath it, something raw.
“If we’ve done this before,” she murmured, her fingers brushing against his one last time before finally—finally—she laced them fully together, “then we’ve already proven that death doesn’t mean the end.”
Jason’s breath hitched, his pulse hammering in a rhythm that had nothing to do with the pain lancing through his healing body and everything to do with the woman standing before him. The woman who, for the first time in lifetimes, was choosing him—choosing this.
His fingers tightened around hers, anchoring himself to the impossible reality they were now standing in. He could feel the warmth of her skin, the faint tremor in her grip, but she didn’t let go. Neither did he.
She was right. Death had never been their end. It had only ever been an interruption.
Jason exhaled a sharp, almost breathless chuckle, though there was no humor in it—only the raw, disbelieving weight of everything they had just acknowledged. “God, we are insane,” he murmured, his smirk ghosting over his lips before fading just as quickly. His eyes searched hers, storm-gray meeting hazel, and for a moment, it was as if time folded in on itself, layering centuries of longing, war, loss, and reunion into the span of a single breath.
And yet, here they stood. Together.
Jason swallowed hard, his voice rough but steady. “We’ve survived swords and bullets, kingdoms and betrayals, fires and bloodshed.” His thumb brushed over the back of her hand, as if tracing the outline of something unseen. “And every single time, we found each other again.” His gaze darkened, sharp and unyielding. “But if this is the one where we change the story? Then we don’t let anything—anything—tear us apart.”
Anika’s smirk softened, the shadow of something unreadable flickering across her expression. “You sound so sure,” she murmured, tilting her head slightly. “Like you already know how this is going to play out.”
Jason exhaled, his jaw tensing as he studied her. “I don’t,” he admitted, and it was the truth. “For the first time, I don’t know how this ends. And that scares the hell out of me.”
Anika blinked at the confession, at the unguarded weight of it. For all his certainty, all his relentless determination, there was something else underneath it. Fear. Not of pain, not of death. But of losing her. Of failing to keep what they had fought so many lifetimes to hold on to.
She squeezed his hand, just slightly. “Then we write the ending ourselves,” she said softly.
Jason let out a slow breath, and something in his chest uncoiled at her words. The weight of centuries, of every unfinished story, every painful separation, didn’t disappear—but it no longer felt like something inevitable. Not anymore.
His fingers laced fully through hers, firm, unshaken. “Then let’s make sure it’s a damn good one.”
The air between them crackled, thick with something unspoken but understood. A silent promise. A vow stronger than any words.
For the first time in countless lifetimes, the future wasn’t a foregone conclusion.
For the first time… they had a chance.
His fingers tightened around hers, anchoring himself to the impossible reality they were now standing in. He could feel the warmth of her skin, the faint tremor in her grip, but she didn’t let go. Neither did he.
She was right. Death had never been their end. It had only ever been an interruption.
Jason exhaled a sharp, almost breathless chuckle, though there was no humor in it—only the raw, disbelieving weight of everything they had just acknowledged. “God, we are insane,” he murmured, his smirk ghosting over his lips before fading just as quickly. His eyes searched hers, storm-gray meeting hazel, and for a moment, it was as if time folded in on itself, layering centuries of longing, war, loss, and reunion into the span of a single breath.
And yet, here they stood. Together.
Jason swallowed hard, his voice rough but steady. “We’ve survived swords and bullets, kingdoms and betrayals, fires and bloodshed.” His thumb brushed over the back of her hand, as if tracing the outline of something unseen. “And every single time, we found each other again.” His gaze darkened, sharp and unyielding. “But if this is the one where we change the story? Then we don’t let anything—anything—tear us apart.”
Anika’s smirk softened, the shadow of something unreadable flickering across her expression. “You sound so sure,” she murmured, tilting her head slightly. “Like you already know how this is going to play out.”
Jason exhaled, his jaw tensing as he studied her. “I don’t,” he admitted, and it was the truth. “For the first time, I don’t know how this ends. And that scares the hell out of me.”
Anika blinked at the confession, at the unguarded weight of it. For all his certainty, all his relentless determination, there was something else underneath it. Fear. Not of pain, not of death. But of losing her. Of failing to keep what they had fought so many lifetimes to hold on to.
She squeezed his hand, just slightly. “Then we write the ending ourselves,” she said softly.
Jason let out a slow breath, and something in his chest uncoiled at her words. The weight of centuries, of every unfinished story, every painful separation, didn’t disappear—but it no longer felt like something inevitable. Not anymore.
His fingers laced fully through hers, firm, unshaken. “Then let’s make sure it’s a damn good one.”
The air between them crackled, thick with something unspoken but understood. A silent promise. A vow stronger than any words.
For the first time in countless lifetimes, the future wasn’t a foregone conclusion.
For the first time… they had a chance.
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