Pajorat II is beautiful from above. It’s nothing like where I come from. It’s green with life—the kind of place I could see myself living, the kind of place I wouldn’t be afraid to call home. Memories of my past life tug at the corners of my mind, but I push them away, focusing instead on the swirling clouds that drape the planet below. I don’t want to think about Seraphis, about the Institute, about how the day I left was simultaneously the best day of my life and my greatest regret.

I look over at Jahdra, who sits quietly staring out the glass at the planet below.

What would she think if she really knew? I wonder, my mind drifting involuntarily toward the questions I’ve tried so hard to avoid asking myself. Would she blame me, the way I blame myself? Would she regret the part she played that day?

I think about Anya, about everything she did for me, everything she taught me. I think about her insistence that I go into the world and make a life of my own, find my own purpose. If she could see me now, would she be proud of the path I’d taken, the person I’d become? I wonder. Would she even recognize me?

I think about C-CIL, my skin prickling at the paradox of his existence. How can we both be here? I wonder. How can there be room enough for us both in this world? The idea of it all perplexes me—one person existing as two, each as different from the other as they are similar.

A hundred lifetimes stand between me and who I once was. The face in the mirror is one I don’t recognize, but even if I did look the same, I’m not sure it would make much difference. I’ve changed in ways that I can neither quantify nor fully understand. Maybe it’s the pain and frustration of living this life over and over again, of repeating the same mistakes, of losing the same people, of ending up lost and alone, back at the beginning.

Each time I come back, I bring some new hurt, some new sense of inadequacy. But I know that I’ll keep coming back, keep living this same series of events, until I find a way to fix things.

Jahdra looks up, her dark, determined eyes momentarily flicking in my direction, and I can’t help but think back to the first time I saw her. The memory feels far away, like it belongs to someone else. But the feelings that it brings up remain as strong as ever. I knew in that moment that I had found my purpose. I had such little knowledge of the world, of myself even, but I knew from the moment I laid eyes on her that I would do anything to protect her. And yet, the thought twists inside me like a knife, I keep failing.

I’ve often wondered why me—why am I the only one stuck in this endless loop with any memory of the past? The only explanation that seems to make sense is that I’m the only one who can fix it. I’m the only one who can set things right.

We’re still far enough away from the signal’s origin that I have time to come up with a plan, but the real trick will be to think of something I haven’t thought of before. I’ve lived this life before, dozens, maybe hundreds of times. And at some point each time, I must’ve come to the same realization I’m having now—a conscious understanding that I was living through the same series of events over and over again, and that I was doomed to keep repeating the same mistakes, reliving it all in perpetuity until I finally get to the root of it.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Chrysanthemum may be the cause of the temporal anomaly, chasing her own distress signal like some hell-born metal-clad ouroboros, but the solution lies with me. I have no choice but to believe that that’s the truth, because the alternative—that I’m powerless to change things—is something I can’t accept.

I look away from Jahdra, down at the swirling clouds below as we slowly circle Pajorat II and wait to hear back from Kiv. Jahdra insisted that we leave Pajorat Prime to avoid inspection, and though I managed to talk her out of going to Gallus, something about the whole situation still feels off. I don’t like the idea of leaving the others behind. I know that what lies ahead, what awaits us out in Epsilon space, will be difficult enough to navigate, and right now, I’d gladly welcome all the help I can get.

“I’ve been thinking,” Jahdra says, suddenly breaking the silence. “Once we hear back from Kiv, you should take the Remus and go. You can meet up with the others. Kiv will help you. She’s good for it, I promise.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, taken aback by this sudden announcement. I know Jahdra’s counting Kiv to keep an eye on Shae and C-CIL until we can safely go back for them, but she can’t seriously think she’d be better off by herself out here.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back,” she says, avoiding my gaze. “I feel bad for dragging you guys all the way out here. If you’re able to find another ride back to Alpha2, I don’t expect you to wait around for me.”

I furrow my brow at this.

“I’m confused,” I say. “Are you going somewhere?” Of course I know where she’s going, but there’s a small part of me clinging to the hope that she’ll change her mind.

“The signal—I’m gonna go find who’s on the other end of it,” she says without a trace of indecision.

I feel my heart sink. Of course she’s going to follow the signal. She always does. That’s why things always end up the way they do, with Chrysanthemum crashing down onto some cursed, lonely little planet, sending out a distress signal and ensuring its own demise. And now that Chrys has a lock on the signal, Jahdra doesn’t need C-CIL to carry out her foolhardy mission.

I sit quietly for a moment, trying to think of something to say, something to deter her, to make her reconsider her decision.

“Why?” I ask quietly, though I already know the answer.

“There’s a ship,” she replies without looking up at me. “Lotus. And everyone I care about most in the world is on that ship.”

Lotus. I haven’t forgotten about them. They’ve done as much for me as anyone. They saved me first from Seraphis, and again, after I’d fallen through time and space onto some rock in the middle of nowhere. I understand why Jahdra feels she has to do this. Hell, if there was any chance it really was Lotus out there, I’d be just as determined as her. But I know what’s really out there waiting in the dark. I just wish there was a way to convince Jahdra.

“Are you prepared to accept whatever’s out there,” I ask, as Jahdra looks up to meet my eye, “even if it’s not what you were hoping to find?”

I see her take a deep breath before giving a resolute nod.

I wish I could tell her everything—that she’s about to make the biggest mistake of her life, and she won’t realize it until it’s too late, that the only thing waiting for her out there is pain and fear and emptiness, that everything she thinks she knows is a lie.

I look into those eyes of hers, deep as wells and bright as the north star, and feel my heart ache. I didn’t know what it meant to be broken until I lost her for the first time. My worst fear now is that it’s destined to happened again, and I would do anything, anything to make sure that doesn’t happen.

“Alright,” I say, swallowing down all the things I can’t say, all the things she wouldn’t understand. “But I’m going with you.”