thief of fate-Chapter 51: Is a second chance worth it?

Some time before the current events...

The silence was heavy—heavier than the stones that had collapsed over his memory. A sticky feeling of lethargy crept into his limbs as he slowly emerged from the sea of unconsciousness, as if his soul was being extracted. There was no pain—only emptiness. The kind of emptiness that isn’t devoid of something, but is the thing itself.

He opened his eyes slowly.

The darkness was dim. Soft blue lights hung from the ceiling like artificial stars. The white walls of the infirmary weren’t as he remembered them; everything seemed disturbingly still...

He stared at the ceiling for moments, unmoving, barely breathing. Only his eyes drifted, numb in their sockets, as if trying to comprehend existence anew.

Then came the sound... faint at first, then clearer. A soft, steady breath beside him.

He turned his head with difficulty—and saw her.

Evelyn.

She was asleep on a chair next to his bed, her head tilted toward the mattress, one arm dangling over the blanket. Her blonde hair spilled over the pillow she leaned on, and her face looked pale, as if sleep had only visited her sparingly.

Many emotions stirred within him, but none expressed themselves. Only his eyes remained fixed on her in silence. He wanted to reach out, to touch her face, to say something—but his tongue felt dead, like the rest of his body.

He... was alive.

The last memory was...

Screams. Fire. Collapse.

He closed his eyes again, as if his mind refused to accept waking up.

But when he opened them, he was not alone.

The screen appeared before his eyes, transparent as a ghost, its blue lines glowing in the midnight dimness. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

[Welcome back, Valerian.]

The entity’s voice flowed into his ear without sound.

He frowned.

"You..."

[Ah, you’ve regained your ability to speak. Go ahead. I’m flattered.]

Valerian didn’t answer immediately. His gaze turned again to Evelyn, as if afraid she’d wake and hear this strange dialogue. Then he whispered in his mind, confident the entity would understand.

"What were you doing? I felt you."

[Watching. Testing. Taking notes. You were... fascinating.]

"Fascinating? Everyone nearly died!"

[And yet, you didn’t. Curious, isn’t it? Will you thank me, or start screaming as usual?]

He pressed his lips together. Trembled slightly. Tried to sit up, but his body wouldn’t obey.

"Why me? What do you want from me?"

[Valerian, you can’t shape pure metal without heat, and I can’t create strength without breaking. You’re suffering? Excellent. That means something is changing.]

"You shatter everything inside me and demand I become stronger?"

[No. I merely show you what’s already there. You’re the one who refuses to look.]

He stared at the screen, a whirlwind of thoughts churning within him. Who was this entity, really?

"How long have you been here?"

[Since the moment of your selection.]

"Were you the reason for... what happened?"

[Cliché question. The better one is: what did you do to cause the result?]

His blood boiled. The urge to scream grew. Something inside him tore, shouting "It wasn’t my fault!"—but he knew... he wasn’t entirely innocent.

"I tried. I was trying to protect them."

[But they died.]

"I wasn’t strong enough, but I..."

[Oh, don’t start the tragic hero speech now. You’re not the first to fail, nor will you be the last. The real question is: will you fail again?]

He closed his eyes. The entity’s voice was like needles—precise, sharp, stabbing exactly where it hurt.

[Do you want the truth?]

He opened his eyes slowly. The screen flickered in a faint red glow, as if smiling.

[You’re not angry at me. You’re angry at yourself. Because you saw how weak you were, and you hated it. Because you expected to be something... more.]

"Shut up."

[But the beautiful thing about you, Valerian... is that you don’t give up. And that’s why I chose you.]

"I didn’t ask to be chosen."

[And fire doesn’t ask wood if it’s ready. It simply burns.]

Silence.

Valerian lay back again, sweat dripping from his brow. His heart pounded violently. He felt dizzy. In the distance, Evelyn murmured in her sleep and stirred slightly, but didn’t wake.

He stared at her face for a long time.

He said softly:

"You stayed by my side."

[Of course. She’s weak like you. She loves you, despite everything. Poor thing.]

"If you don’t shut up, I’ll tear you apart."

[Tear. But you know I’m not something you can tear.]

Something broke inside him. That line, specifically, was a mirror he’d always avoided. The entity wasn’t just a parasite. Not just an external force.

"I won’t let you control me."

[Oh, but you will. Just not today. Today... just rest. The next battle will be different.]

"What battle?"

[The battle of true loss. Death was only the first lesson. What’s coming will be far more... personal.]

Then it vanished. The screen, the voice, the needles in his mind—all gone.

Valerian remained staring at the ceiling, his breath heavy.

Evelyn had begun to stir. Her sleepy eyes opened slowly.

"Valerian...?"

He looked at her, and a tired smile formed on his lips, despite everything.

"I’m here."

"You... woke up. Finally..."

Her eyes welled with tears suddenly, and she leaned into him cautiously, hugging him.

"I thought... I thought you were gone."

He whispered as he held her:

"Maybe I came back because you called me."

But deep inside, he knew...

He came back for something else.

She held him as if afraid he’d vanish between her arms. Her chest trembled gently with every muffled sob, her warm cheek resting on his bandaged shoulder. She couldn’t stop herself from crying, despite her silence. It wasn’t weeping—it was a slow melting of everything she had held back the past week.

As for him, he remained still. He didn’t know how to respond. His hand barely managed to rise to touch her back, as if every movement now cost too much—not just to his body, but to his weary soul.

She whispered with a trembling voice, as if speaking to a ghost more than a man:

"I stopped counting... the hours... the days... I kept watching your face day after day, wondering if you were still... there."

He closed his eyes, feeling an internal stab. He hadn’t been present for her pain, or those nights she stayed awake, staring at his lifeless face, hoping his lips would twitch or a finger would flinch.

"Evelyn... I’m sorry."

She pulled her head back slightly to look at him. Her eyes were red, tired, but still held a light that hadn’t lost its shine. As if she found an entire life in his awakening.

"Don’t apologize. Just... don’t do that to me again. Don’t leave me staring at your lifeless body not knowing if you’ll return or not."

Her tone was cracked, trying to remain strong but quietly crumbling before him. Then she lowered her eyes and added, in a softer voice, as if speaking to herself:

"When I used to see you lying there... I’d think, if you opened your eyes now, what would you say? Would you remember me? Would you smile? Or blame me?"

His voice shook as he replied:

"I would never blame you."

She looked at him silently, studying his face, his hand, his ribs slowly moving beneath the blanket. Then she said:

"I blamed myself."

"It wasn’t your fault, Evelyn."

"But I wasn’t strong enough. I was there, but I couldn’t... do anything."

He slowly shook his head, barely able to move.

"You kept me from sinking... even without realizing it."

A faint smile touched her lips, then quickly faded. Her gaze wandered to the room’s walls, then returned to him. Something in his eyes had changed—something that wasn’t there before. Shadows of silence, a depth without bottom... as if the entity that had spoken to him was still sitting there, behind his gaze.

She leaned closer and whispered:

"What did you see there? While you were asleep..."

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

She felt that it was something she shouldn’t know—afraid of the answer.

She exhaled slowly, then stood up from the chair with difficulty. Her body was exhausted, but she fought the fatigue with a warm smile as she adjusted the blanket over him.

"You need rest. We’ll talk later."

He wanted to stop her from leaving. To say: Stay. But he didn’t.

Maybe because she was right.

Maybe because he was afraid to see more sadness in her eyes.

She paused at the door, hesitated, then looked back at him over her shoulder:

"I’m here. And I’ll stay. But don’t leave me again, Valerian."

He closed his eyes and exhaled softly.

"I won’t."

And she left.

Silence returned to the room. But this time, it wasn’t empty. It was full—of pain, longing, and a change that could not be spoken.

And inside him, a decision was maturing, fermenting slowly in his heart...

He would no longer be just a survivor.

Then after his return, he heard about Selena and how she was accused of being a spy and tried to comfort her.