I ran toward the mill with the determination of someone who had already stopped doubting, even if the body refused to follow and every step was an open argument against pain. The ground cracked beneath my boots with a dry, hollow sound, as if I were walking over something that had been destroyed long before I arrived, yet still persisted out of sheer stubbornness. The mill's pulse continued to set the rhythm of everything, but I no longer perceived it as something external. It had settled into my chest, syncing with my breathing and dragging me forward with an insistence that did not entirely belong to me. As I moved, reality began to warp. It wasn't immediate or violent. First came a subtle sensation, almost imperceptible, as if the air itself had changed density. Then the sounds began to arrive out of sync, like echoes that didn't match the movements that produced them. And finally the world opened around me. I saw the mill. I saw Aldric holding the line, sword raised, each strike driven by a fury that was no longer just survival. I saw Serah retreating, summoning what little strength she had left. I saw Maelor struggling to remain standing. And I saw Eldran motionless, surrounded by a fire I could not fully understand. It took me a few seconds to realize that what unfolded before my eyes was not merely an image. It was a possibility. And I was alone inside it. I saw myself reaching them, entering the fight, feeling the impact of every blow, the weight of every decision. The battle slowly tilted in our favor, with a cruel reluctance, as if the valley itself hesitated before yielding. The witches screamed. Their bodies twisted under steel and magic. At last, they fell. And for a moment… we won. But that moment lasted no longer than a breath. Because beyond that victory, the cliff demanded its price. The children kept advancing, one after another, as if the fall were part of a ritual that had to be completed. They did not scream. They did not resist. They simply vanished into the mist, swallowed by a depth that gave nothing back. I felt the weight of each of them as if they were falling inside me. And I understood, without the need for words, that this was no victory at all. The valley darkened, not in appearance, but in essence. And then I saw him. Watching. Satisfied. As if that choice had been exactly what he wanted. The vision shattered before I could hold onto it, giving way to the next one so fast I had no time to prepare. This time, I wasn't running toward the mill. I saw myself stop, turn, and take a different path one I didn't remember ever seeing, yet felt inevitable. The mist parted before me as if it recognized me, guiding me toward something that felt like a чуж desire. The mill was left behind. The battle continued without me. And I knew it before I saw it. Aldric fell. Not immediately, not without resistance, but his end was as clear as it was inevitable. Serah screamed his name with a desperation that cut through me even from within the vision. Maelor vanished, consumed by something I couldn't make out. And Eldran… disintegrated, as if he had crossed a threshold I could not follow. The valley remained. The mill remained. And I was left alone. But around me, the mist vanished. Boundaries became clear. Nature took form. And the sun rose in a brilliant ochre dawn. The two realities collided inside me with such violence that I was forced to stop. The air grew heavy. The ground lost its firmness. And for a moment, I felt that if I took another step, I would shatter along with everything else. It wasn't a choice. It was a sentence. And in the middle of that collapse… It appeared. The letter. I didn't look for it. I didn't remember it. It was simply there, in my hands, as if it had always been there, waiting for the right moment to reveal itself. The paper was worn, rough, marked by signs I couldn't identify. But the handwriting… The handwriting was mine. I knew it before I read it.
Dear Arven,
I write to you still beneath a sky that does not belong. Another sky that is foreign to me. Your warnings of night and darkness were not in vain. Because of them, I still stand within this simulation that some bold souls dare to call life. I long for our reunion, with the secret hope that you still hold something of me, of my memories. Something I may have whispered before losing my name. The nights here hold stories I wish to deny, yet the wind reminds me of them with every breath, filling my memory with fear and forgetting.
I have seen the Devil again, and he spared my life once more. Another time, I would have preferred death, but a terror seized me so completely that I was left paralyzed. Perhaps the third time will be the one that matters, and that thought satisfies me regardless of which side of the coin fate chooses: vengeance or pleasure. Now I travel in the company of brave warriors whom I respect and admire. Losing them would be a direct blow to my pride, a repetition of my failed arrival to these lands. A macabre game of the Devil to remind me that I am at his mercy. I do not know what will become of us, if there is anything real in what we share. Perhaps we will spend eternity kicking at the gates of this hell. Or perhaps we will leave through the grand door hidden deep within the mist. But for that… I must accept that I cannot save them all. That lies in each of their hands. Each chooses their own salvation, and I must fight for mine. To let things flow simply. To release the fury within me. To abandon the idea of solving this riddle by force. To accept that the days of the past were my entire adventure, that no battles remain for me, and no one waits on the other side. It is time to break the walls of the labyrinth. To accept that what I truly fear is losing again… even knowing that everything is already lost.
My time has come. I will take Agramor by the throat and scream in his face that I have already lost everything. I will tell him of my own darkness, and that now my fears are his fears. Because he brought me to his lands. He killed what I loved most, and with it, my heart died. Now I will return the favor. I will invite him to live for eternity in my world of darkness.
I keep a prayer for your family, and I await the day I may once again surrender my palate to the bohemian spirit of your wines.
From somewhere within the mist, I greet you.
Always crowning the vigil.
Munin Huginsson
Captain of the Waves
When I finished reading, the noise was gone. The visions had disappeared. The battle continued in the distance, and my companions were retreating into the mill. But within me… something had changed. The name at the end of the letter was not an answer. It was a piece falling back into place. I felt the doubts that had held me back begin to crumble, not because I had found a solution, but because I finally understood the nature of the problem. It wasn't about choosing correctly. It was about accepting the weight of any choice. And for the first time… that burden did not feel unfamiliar to me. I closed my hand and felt the paper still there. It hadn't been an illusion. I lifted my gaze toward the mill and then toward the path that stretched in the opposite direction, hidden within the mist. Both were still there. Both were real. But they were no longer the same. I stepped forward, clenching my teeth, feeling the world steady itself beneath my feet with a different kind of firmness, as if it had stopped resisting me… or perhaps as if I had stopped resisting it.
—Hold the line, Captain —I told myself aloud. I let the letter fall to the ground… and walked straight toward the mill.