On that night—a night born of blame and tears, a night no one could have foreseen—Ravaz, driven by a sudden, aching longing, decided for the first time to stop fearing the future. For a brief moment, he became a child of the "now."
Stephanie fell asleep peacefully in his arms, her breath deep and rhythmic; she had finally found sanctuary. Life, once again, began to wear a mask of beauty.
Softly, with a stillness that soothed the soul, Ravaz whispered:
"My time is up."
Then, he vanished—even as he continued to hold her.
From that night onward, his visits became a recurring rhythm whenever he could manage. They were visits saturated with love—quiet as a prayer, steadfast as a vow. Ravaz, who had long felt he belonged nowhere, now radiated joy. Every glowing sigil on his body pulsed with happiness. Sometimes, he would cloak himself in human guise, accompanying her on mundane daily adventures, wanting her to feel the pulse of a normal life. At other times, he would unveil his true essence, carrying her across the Earth, and occasionally, to the neighboring planets.
In moments of deep yearning, he would take her back into the past to visit her parents, her grandmother, or to hold Adam once more. Stephanie once asked him why, every time he took her back, he insisted she name the specific memory she wished to revisit.
Ravaz explained that the past was not merely a collection of told stories or faded mental images. It was composed of stable frequencies that never truly vanish. Every place retains the echoes of what transpired there, down to the smallest heartbeat. The walls, the air, even the molecules themselves store memories in hidden layers. Every frequency carries its own unique pulse and light.
The challenge, he noted, lies in retrieving a specific moment, for a single location holds trillions of frequencies, each tethered to a different time, person, and soul. Once a matching frequency is found, travel through time becomes possible—not to alter the past, but to bear witness to it. This is why memory alone is insufficient; it must align with the memory of the place. When you think of a specific event, your body emits the frequency of that moment. When the match is struck, the journey begins.
But the future, he told her, was the exact opposite. It holds no fixed frequencies because it has not yet come to pass. It is an infinite realm of possibilities, constantly forming and collapsing. Every decision we make now, however small, opens new doors and shutters others. The future is a living, shifting entity. The present is the arena of decision, and every major choice becomes a fixed point in time that triggers a cascade of results. From that fixed point, the frequencies of the future begin to crystallize, gradually closing off the infinite options that came before.
According to this wisdom:
The Past is a mass of fixed frequencies.
The Future is a restless tide of possible images.
The Bridge between them is consciousness—the awareness of every being, in every moment.
Then came the day...
Stephanie was lying on the grass, staring at the sky, trying to touch the shimmering gas particles dancing above her. Suddenly, she realized her cycle had not come for months. Her heart sank with a heavy anxiety. She called her doctor and scheduled a visit.
The shock was overwhelming.
The doctor stared at the screen and cried out with joy:
"Stephanie! You're pregnant! A cheerful little girl is growing inside you!"
Stephanie froze, her face a portrait of bewilderment. Inwardly, she wondered: Is this truly possible? Between two beings from different worlds?
"Is it real? Are you sure?" she asked, her voice trembling.
The doctor's eyes glowed. "There is no doubt at all, Stephanie. I think we shall give birth at the exact same time!"
As the news settled into her soul, Stephanie finally smiled, knowing that her friend's long-held dream had also become a reality. Later, Stephanie decided to visit the medical nursery where her son, Adam, had once been. She stood before an incubator, looking through the glass at a frail infant struggling for breath—the very same incubator Adam had once occupied.
A wave of profound sadness washed over her. In the silence, she wished for him to live—a long, healthy life. What she did not know was that Elena, the little girl in her womb, felt her mother's silent wish. Elena heard what her mother carried in her heart and decided to wish for the same thing.
It was Elena's first-ever wish—pure and sincere. To Azaveria, the first wishes of its children are sacred and always granted. Elena felt a deep belonging to that infant without knowing why, as if her own survival was somehow entwined with his. That infant was Ryo, her life's companion. Their first meeting was not a fleeting moment, but the birth of Elena's first prayer—an unselfish wish from a heart not yet born.
Azaveria heard Elena's wish. Her light, still mingling with the body forming in a human womb, sent the wish softly outward. Azaveria sent a tiny being, like a small vessel filled with its light. That light merged with Ryo's tiny heart, which was clinging to life, supporting him and dwelling within. From that moment, all Elena ever wanted was to protect Ryo.
Stephanie left the hospital, her heartbeat outracing her steps. She walked as if the earth had grown lighter beneath her feet, drowned in a joy unlike anything she had ever known. She smiled, she cried, and she laughed all at once. She gripped the steering wheel with delicate fingers, afraid that touching it might wake her from a beautiful dream.
"I can't believe it..." she whispered, her voice hushed. "A part of Ravaz is growing inside me."
The being who was nothing like her, yet whom she loved with all her soul, was now her husband. And now, she carried his child. Her astonished mind struggled to grasp it. Was this reality, or a dream? She wondered how she would tell him, how his face would look, and if he would feel the same joy. All the way home, she practiced her words, drafting small speeches only to tear them apart in her mind and start over.
When she finally arrived, it was nearly 10:43 PM—the precise moment Ravaz usually appeared, preceded by his warm, gentle scent... a fragrance that defined him perfectly.
Suddenly... he was there.
The moment she saw his face, she ran to him like a child running to the arms of a long-lost father, her smile illuminating her entire being. Every plan, every sentence she had prepared, vanished. She couldn't contain herself. She grabbed his hands and gasped with excitement:
"Tell me... how long have we been married?"
Ravaz laughed, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "What is happening? Why are you this happy?"
Her eyes sparkled. "Just answer me!"
He laughed again, teasing her. "I know you humans become forgetful... has it finally happened to you?"
She blurted out, skipping all introductions: "I think you're going to be a father!"
His smile froze for a moment. Then, he closed his eyes, focusing inward, trying to sense the "Mark of Lineage" etched upon him. He muttered:
"It is still there... it hasn't disappeared yet. But..."
He opened his eyes slowly. "There is something strange... small parts of it are fading. Not all at once, as usually happens."
He sighed, then began to explain: "In Azaveria, when a child of the 'Shadows of Light' is conceived within an Azaverian womb, both parents relinquish their marks of lineage in a sacred rite. The two marks merge and are embraced by the 'Womb of Azaveria,' where the child begins to form within the Dimension of Birth. But this... this is different. My mark is fading gradually."
He fell silent again, as if listening to the vibrations of the universe—to an echo only he could hear. Then, a soft smile returned to his lips.
"It's a girl, isn't it?"
Stephanie stared in disbelief. "How did you know?"
He smiled again and answered in his calm, steady voice: "I told you before... time flows along a single thread, woven into a sphere. The past is fixed. The present is a turning point. The future? Just a web of illusions branching from the 'Now.' All time exists at once."
The light dancing in his eyes grew brighter. "I have seen her. She looks like you... but she has my eyes. It seems her thread—her future—has solidified."
He lifted her gently, raising her into the air, floating with her across the room. They glided in silence, wrapped in joy as if nothing else in the universe existed. Then he lowered her softly and asked:
"Are you still sure of what you asked of me before?"
She nodded. Stephanie had once asked Ravaz to promise her to ignore any signals from the future concerning her or their relationship. She had made him swear to silence every whisper and banish every dream.
She had told him that night: "I am a daughter of the present... only the 'Now' matters to me."