CHAPTER 2: SHATTERED BONDS

Krishna had always been able to keep his emotions in check, but fame had a way of distorting everything. He’d gone from a no-name, non-Catalyst teenager to a local celebrity overnight, and it was thrilling. The fights, the recognition, the power. It felt good. Hell, it felt damn good. He didn’t need a Catalyst to be at the top of his game—he was proof of that.

But that all changed the day he heard about Aliyah.

She’d gotten a new boyfriend, and to Krishna’s shock, it wasn’t just some random guy—it was someone who was all about the money and support. He couldn’t believe it. All those times he’d risked his life for her, all that attention he gave her, all the moments where he’d hoped, even just a little, that maybe, just maybe, she saw him in a different light... it all came crashing down.

She hadn’t even told him. She hadn’t even acknowledged the fact that he had been there, saving her life. She was just... moving on.

Krishna could feel his chest tighten as the realization hit. She had never really needed him—she was using him. And worse, she was moving on like it was nothing.

Heartbroken but still holding onto that cold, calculating side of him, Krishna made a decision. He wouldn’t confront her. He wouldn’t make a scene. Instead, he disappeared. He cut off all contact, withdrew from their mutual friends, and retreated into the shadows.

He’d always prided himself on being the calm, strategic thinker, and this... this was the way forward. The pain was there, but it was a quiet, smoldering ember now—nothing more.

Aliyah, on the other hand, had no idea what was happening. She noticed the absence of Krishna’s presence, but to her, it was just another strange blip in their complicated relationship. She couldn’t understand why he was avoiding her, and more importantly, she didn’t realize the damage she’d caused.

Her new boyfriend, oblivious to the past history between them, didn’t see the significance of Krishna’s absence either. It was just another guy that Aliyah had cut out of her life. But someone had to notice. Someone had to see the mistake before it was too late.

That someone was Aliyah’s boyfriend.

He was the first to acknowledge what had happened and pulled her aside. “You need to go apologize to him,” he said, his tone serious. “I think you really hurt him.”

Aliyah, confused, frowned. “What do you mean? I just... I moved on.”

But her boyfriend didn’t let it go. “No, this isn’t about moving on. You left him hanging. You used him, and now he's gone. You need to make it right.”

Aliyah’s heart sank. It wasn’t something she wanted to hear, but deep down, she knew it was true. She regretted how things had turned out, but Krishna had already closed that door. The damage was done. He was gone, and he wasn’t coming back.

Days turned into weeks, and Aliyah found herself in a new, strange reality. She’d married her new boyfriend, but it wasn’t the happiness she’d imagined. The hollow feeling of regret ate at her, gnawing away at every passing moment. She missed Krishna, more than she cared to admit, but he was gone. She couldn’t undo what she’d done.

One day, as time moved on, Aliyah’s friend Sarah approached Krishna at school. Her eyes held a mix of curiosity and hesitation, as if she was unsure whether it was right to even ask him about it. But the words came out before she could stop them.

“Are you the boy who wanted Aliyah’s number?” Sarah asked.

Krishna’s eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. He had no time for this, no time to dwell on what could’ve been. He’d moved on, in his own way, and that chapter of his life was closed.

“My old friend?” he said, his voice colder than he intended. “No, I don’t want her number.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving Sarah standing there, speechless.

Krishna wasn’t bitter. He wasn’t angry anymore. He had just learned, in his own harsh way, that sometimes people outgrow each other, and the best way to protect yourself was to cut the ties that bound you, no matter how painful it might be in the moment.

But Aliyah’s regret was something she would have to live with, and Krishna had no interest in being the person to fix it.

A NEW BEGINNING

Krishna was living better now. After cutting ties with Aliyah, he threw himself into new circles—people who didn’t know the old him, people who didn’t expect anything from him other than his sharp mind and calculated focus. These new friends weren’t interested in his past or in the complicated web of emotions that had entangled him with Aliyah. They just saw him for who he was now—someone who didn’t need a Catalyst to be strong, someone who could hold his own in a fight and, most importantly, someone who could be relied upon.

It was refreshing. There were no questions about Aliyah. No awkward moments of silence when the topic of relationships came up. No wondering if people were gossiping about his past. He didn’t have to explain himself to anyone. It was as if the weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

He didn’t have a girlfriend, nor did he feel the need to rush into anything. Sure, there were girls who noticed him—his newfound fame had a way of attracting attention—but Krishna wasn’t interested. He had learned that relationships, especially the one with Aliyah, were complicated, messy things. He wasn’t ready for that again. His focus was on his growth, his mission, his future.

His days were spent honing his body, training his mind, and forming strategic plans for the future. Whether it was through sparring matches with friends or navigating the chaotic world that the Catalyst gene had created, Krishna kept himself busy, kept himself sharp. He didn’t have time to dwell on feelings anymore. It was easier this way—detached, focused, moving forward.

But deep down, there was always that quiet ache. It wasn’t something he’d ever admit to anyone, not even to himself. But it was there—small, lingering in the corners of his mind. It wasn’t just the loss of Aliyah. It was the loss of something more. The loss of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was someone out there who would see him for who he truly was, not just the fighter, not just the strategist, but the person who had feelings too.

It was a harsh realization, but Krishna had learned to live with it. He had to. After all, in a world where the Catalyst gene gave people superpowers, the only real power he had was his mind—and the drive to push forward, no matter the cost.

One afternoon, as Krishna was walking through the city, lost in thought, he noticed a familiar figure standing at the corner of a street. It was Sarah, Aliyah’s friend. She was waiting by the bus stop, her expression hesitant, as if she was uncertain whether she should approach him. When their eyes met, there was no mistaking the awkwardness between them.

Krishna stopped in his tracks, the briefest flicker of curiosity crossing his face.

“Hey,” Sarah said, her voice small, but steady. “I—I need to talk to you.”

Krishna raised an eyebrow, not really in the mood for more of Aliyah’s loose ends. But Sarah wasn’t just anyone. She was the one who had asked him about Aliyah’s number—the one who knew, at least in part, what had happened.

“I don’t know if it’s my place to say this,” Sarah continued, “but I think Aliyah regrets what happened. She... she didn’t know how much she hurt you. And I think, I think she’s really sorry.”

Krishna’s expression remained unreadable. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t this. He had no interest in going back to the past, no interest in hearing apologies from someone who had already moved on.

“I’m not the person she should be talking to,” Krishna said flatly. “She made her choice.”

Sarah winced, as if she’d been expecting that answer. But she pressed on. “I know, but... I think you deserve closure. I think... I think you deserve to know that she never meant to hurt you.”

Krishna turned away, the weight of his past pulling at his chest for the briefest of moments. He didn’t want closure. He didn’t need it. He had moved on, or at least he had convinced himself he had. But as he walked away, a small part of him—the part he had buried—wondered if maybe, just maybe, hearing her say it would be worth it.

But that wasn’t his path anymore. His path was one of survival, strength, and focus. There was no room for what-ifs or lingering emotions.

“Tell her,” Krishna said without looking back, “Tell her I’m fine. I’ve got better things to focus on now.”

And with that, he disappeared into the crowd, the ache in his heart slowly fading as he left the past behind. He didn’t need Aliyah’s apology. He didn’t need anyone’s validation. All he needed was himself.

And that was enough.

HE PRICE OF REGRET

Months passed, and Aliyah's life, which had once seemed so full of promise with Hank by her side, started to crumble. Hank, the boyfriend she had chosen over Krishna, the one who had once seemed so perfect—supportive, caring, and everything she thought she needed—began to show his true colors.

At first, it was small things. He’d be distant, distracted, as if his mind was elsewhere. Aliyah ignored it, chalking it up to stress from work or personal issues, but deep down, she could feel the change. And then, one evening, she caught him. She came home early from a visit to her parents’ house, only to find Hank in their apartment, laughing and holding hands with someone else.

It hit her like a punch to the gut. The betrayal, the utter disregard for everything they had built, was too much to ignore. Hank didn’t even try to deny it when she confronted him. There was no apology, no regret in his eyes. He simply shrugged, as if to say it was inevitable.

“I don’t think this is working out, Aliyah,” Hank said, his voice lacking any real emotion. “I found someone else. I’m done with you.”

Aliyah stood there, stunned, her world falling apart around her. She had been so sure that she had made the right choice. She had left Krishna behind, convinced that Hank was the better option, that he would be the one to take care of her. And yet, it was Hank who had taken everything she had given him and thrown it away without a second thought.

She wanted to scream, to lash out, but the words wouldn’t come. All that was left was the suffocating weight of regret.

Days passed, and Hank moved on without hesitation, leaving Aliyah alone with the wreckage of her decisions. The sting of betrayal festered, but it wasn’t just the pain of losing Hank—it was the realization that she had lost Krishna too, and now, there was no way back.

Aliyah tried to salvage what was left of her pride, but the shame was overwhelming. She’d thought she could move on, but now, she felt hollow. Hank wasn’t there to pick up the pieces, and she couldn’t help but replay all the moments with Krishna in her mind—the way he had been there for her, the way he had fought for her when no one else would. She had been blind, and now she had paid the price.

In the quiet moments, when she allowed herself to feel the full weight of her actions, Aliyah realized how much she had hurt Krishna, how much she had taken him for granted. It was too late now. He had disappeared from her life without a trace, and she had no way of reaching him. The doors she had closed were locked, and the key was gone.

Aliyah tried to move on, but the damage was done. She dropped out of school, left behind the life she once knew, and married Hank—only to be left abandoned in the end. She had no one now, no one to turn to, no one who understood her like Krishna did.

One evening, as she sat alone in her new home, the emptiness pressed in on her, suffocating her. She found herself wishing for something she knew she could never have again: a chance to undo the past, to say she was sorry, to make things right. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that what she really wanted was something far deeper—what she had truly lost.

She missed Krishna, but it wasn’t just because he had been her friend, her savior, or the boy she had once had feelings for. She missed him because, in her heart, she knew he had been the one person who truly understood her—the one who had always been there, even when she had pushed him away.

And now, he was gone.

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MEANWHILE, KRISHNA’S NEW LIFE

As Aliyah's life spiraled, Krishna found himself charting an unexpected course. After the fallout with her, he’d decided to shut off that chapter of his life completely. He didn’t want to dwell in the past, not when there was so much more ahead of him. And, surprisingly, life seemed to take on a brighter tone with each passing day.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

He’d cultivated new friendships—genuine ones that weren’t weighed down by his history with Aliyah. The people around him now saw him for who he was in the present: a sharp, calculating strategist who didn’t need a Catalyst to make waves. They respected him for his mind, for his approach to problem-solving, and for his skills. Whether it was navigating a difficult situation or overcoming a physically demanding challenge, Krishna’s ability to think several steps ahead set him apart.

These new friends weren’t caught up in the drama of the past. They didn’t ask about Aliyah, nor did they expect him to explain himself. It was refreshing, like a breath of fresh air. With them, he didn’t have to be anything other than himself—a guy with a sharp mind, a bit of a quiet demeanor, and a clear sense of purpose. He’d always been that way, but in his past relationships, he had somehow allowed himself to get tangled in emotions and expectations. Now, he realized that the people who truly mattered to him were those who accepted him unconditionally. They appreciated him for what he brought to the table, not for what he could give them.

As he spent more time with these new friends, Krishna began to open up in ways he hadn’t before. He’d learned to trust again, slowly but surely. He let his guard down just a little. He wasn’t entirely the same person who had been burned by the world and by those he loved. His mind had always been his strongest weapon, but he had also begun to appreciate the power of human connection—albeit cautiously. He began to understand that friendship could be simple and pure, without the need for any ulterior motives. These new bonds were built on mutual respect, not on some unspoken agenda.

Krishna had no need for a girlfriend. He was no longer the naive kid who’d thought that having someone by his side was a necessary part of life. He’d learned the hard way that relationships could complicate things, stir up emotions, and create unnecessary distractions. He was better off on his own—focused on his training, on honing his skills, and on learning how to navigate the world around him. He didn’t need anyone’s validation to prove his worth. His worth was determined by the results he achieved, not by the relationships he formed along the way.

His life had become a quiet rhythm, a balance between the company of his new friends and the solitude he often found in his own thoughts. The outside world may have been chaotic, but Krishna had learned to create peace within himself. He could stand on his own, and he was okay with that. There was a certain strength in being alone, he realized. You didn’t need a partner to feel whole; you just needed the resolve to stand up for yourself and move forward.

One evening, as Krishna sat in his room, his phone buzzed with a new message. He didn’t expect it to be anything significant, maybe a text from one of his friends about plans for the weekend. But when he saw the sender’s name, his heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t Aliyah. It was Sarah—the friend he’d never really gotten to know, but who had always been there, a witness to the things that had happened between him and Aliyah.

The message was simple, but it carried weight.

"Krishna," Sarah wrote, "I know you don't want to hear from Aliyah, and I understand why. But she’s been going through a lot, and I think... I think she really regrets what happened. She doesn’t know how to fix it. She doesn’t know how to make up for losing you.”

Krishna stared at the screen, his thumb hovering over the response button. His heart didn’t race. There was no fury in his chest, no anger bubbling up like it would have in the past. But something stirred inside him. It was a mix of confusion and a strange kind of disbelief. He’d expected Aliyah to move on. He’d expected to move on. So why, after everything, did Sarah reach out? What did this mean? Why bring up Aliyah now, after all this time?

Memories of his time with Aliyah crept into his thoughts, but he quickly shook them off. He had no desire to revisit the pain, the heartbreak, or the confusion. He had buried it all deep down and had made peace with it. But the words Sarah had written made him pause. “She regrets it.” A part of him, buried deep, wanted to believe it. That maybe she was sorry, maybe she wished things had turned out differently. But that part of him was the past. The past that had made him strong. The past that no longer had a hold on him.

He typed a response, his fingers moving quickly, but then paused. What was the point of reopening old wounds? What would it change? He could already feel the emotional weight of it building, the temptation to reach out, to hear her say it to him herself. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t let her back in, not after everything. He had moved on, and he needed to keep it that way.

Krishna deleted the message he’d typed and wrote instead, “I’ve moved on. Tell her I’m fine.”

He hit send, a sense of finality settling in his chest. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about what Aliyah was going through—it was just that he couldn’t allow himself to go back to that place. He had spent too long stuck in the past, trying to fix things that were broken beyond repair. He had his future to focus on, and he couldn’t afford to let anything drag him back. Not anymore.

Krishna set his phone down, a small sigh escaping his lips. The ache in his heart—so familiar, so persistent—began to fade, as if it were simply another piece of baggage he could finally discard. Life was moving forward, and so was he.

PLAGUE DOCTOR'S VENGEANCE: A RESPECTFUL WRATH

Plague Doctor had never respected many people. His cruel, twisted mindset was built on the idea that strength, brutality, and survival were all that mattered in the world. But Krishna had changed that. After their first brutal encounter, where Krishna had somehow managed to defeat him despite his overwhelming advantages, Plague Doctor had seen something in the young man—a spark that could not be extinguished by mere poison or physical force.

Krishna wasn’t just another victim for Plague Doctor to manipulate. He was a survivor. And that, in Plague Doctor’s world, was worthy of respect.

But when Aliyah had carelessly discarded Krishna, calling him “average” and choosing someone like Hank instead, Plague Doctor felt a deep, visceral rage. Not because Krishna was weak or undeserving of respect—no, it was because Aliyah, a person who had never truly understood Krishna’s strength or his struggle, had casually insulted him. To Plague Doctor, it wasn’t just an insult to Krishna—it was an affront to everything he had come to respect about the boy.

Aliyah had dismissed Krishna based on superficialities, ignoring his resilience, his intelligence, and his heart. She saw his average looks as a reason to reject him, failing to see the deeper qualities that made him extraordinary. That was a mistake that Plague Doctor couldn’t let slide. He would make sure she understood the cost of that mistake, the cost of disrespecting someone who had proven himself capable of surviving the impossible.

When Plague Doctor arrived at Aliyah’s apartment, his mind wasn’t clouded by anger at her specifically—it was more about the principle. Krishna had shown him the true meaning of strength, not through the violence of their last fight, but through his refusal to submit, to be crushed by the world. And now Aliyah, with her shallow reasoning, had thrown all that away.

“You think Krishna was average?” Plague Doctor hissed, his voice venomous as he approached her. “You call a man who stood toe-to-toe with me and survived ‘average’? You think you can just toss him aside like he was nothing?”

Aliyah, trembling, realized too late that she had made a grave mistake. But it was too late for apologies. Plague Doctor wasn’t here to teach her a lesson about shallow relationships—he was here to make sure she understood that there was a price to pay for underestimating the true worth of someone like Krishna.

"I respected him, you fool,” Plague Doctor continued, his cold gaze piercing through her. “You could never understand what he went through, what he became. I will make you feel the consequences of your foolishness.”

While Aliyah quivered in fear, the weight of her regrets now suffocating her, Plague Doctor felt a strange satisfaction. It wasn’t in hurting her—it was in enforcing a brutal truth: sometimes the cost of underestimating someone is far steeper than you could ever imagine.

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KRISHNA’S RESPONSE: MOVING ON

Meanwhile, Krishna, oblivious to the looming danger, continued to live his life. He had moved on from everything that had once held him back—the pain of betrayal, the sting of rejection, the ghosts of old relationships. He’d learned that true power came not from holding onto the past, but from looking forward.

Then came Sarah’s message, and Krishna couldn’t help but feel a small pang of something—maybe it was curiosity, maybe just a reminder of his past. But when he saw that Plague Doctor was after Aliyah, his response was immediate and final:

“I’m not getting involved,” he typed. “She made her choices. Let her deal with the consequences.”

There was no hesitation in his words. Krishna had fought battles far bigger than anything Aliyah could have imagined, and his victory over Plague Doctor had solidified his understanding of the world. No one was going to drag him back into that tangled mess of regret and mistakes.

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ALIYAH’S FATE: A BRUTAL LESSON

Aliyah’s fate had been sealed long before Plague Doctor’s shadow loomed over her. The moment she rejected Krishna—dismissed him for someone like Hank—she had unknowingly written the final chapter of her life. It wasn’t just a betrayal of a person, but of the very essence of what it meant to truly understand and value someone. Krishna wasn’t just a boy; he was a force of will, a survivor in a world where only the ruthless and the cunning could thrive. And Aliyah, in her ignorance, had discarded him like an item she no longer cared for, choosing instead the comfort of someone who couldn’t offer her the same depth or strength.

That mistake would cost her.

Plague Doctor wasn’t a man who believed in forgiveness or second chances. He had long ago abandoned such notions, seeing them as weaknesses in a world driven by survival of the fittest. To him, Aliyah wasn’t a victim to be pitied, nor a person deserving of empathy. She was simply another consequence of her own actions—a fragile thing that had broken under the weight of her arrogance. In his eyes, she had become a lesson for the world—a painful example of what happens when one chooses to insult the strong, to underestimate the resilience of those who have learned to fight and survive against all odds.

When Plague Doctor arrived, there was no grand speech, no drawn-out torture. There was only the swift strike of his poisoned blade—a lesson in the most brutal form. Aliyah didn’t even have the luxury of understanding the extent of her mistake until it was far too late. The poison spread like wildfire through her veins, her body convulsing in agony as her breath became shallow.

As she gasped for air, her mind raced, and the stark realization hit her like a freight train. She had underestimated Krishna, belittled him, thrown him away as if he was just some expendable part of her past. But Krishna wasn’t a fool. He had given everything in their relationship—his trust, his loyalty, and his strength. And now, Aliyah was learning the hard way that there was a price to pay for such hubris. It wasn’t Krishna who would punish her for her mistakes; it was the consequences of her own pride, a lesson delivered in the form of a cold, unforgiving killer like Plague Doctor.

Her final thoughts were filled with regret, a silent apology for the man she had once known, but even that regret was tainted by the poison coursing through her veins. She had no time for redemption. It was over.

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THE END OF THE PAST

Krishna didn’t know it yet, but when the news of Aliyah’s death reached him, it wouldn’t change a thing. He had long ago erased her from his life, buried the remnants of their relationship in the depths of his heart where they would remain untouched, forgotten. He didn’t care to mourn. He didn’t care to feel anything. In fact, the only thing that filled the void was the knowledge that the past—every painful memory, every betrayal, every loss—had no hold on him anymore.

The notification sat on his phone, buzzing for a moment, but Krishna didn’t even look at it. He didn’t need to. He knew what it was. He knew what it would say. Aliyah was dead. And yet, there was no victory to be claimed, no sense of closure to be found. She had chosen her fate when she discarded him. There was no sense in mourning someone who had already chosen to leave his life.

Krishna wasn’t a man to hold onto things—especially not pain, regret, or betrayal. He was someone who moved forward, relentlessly, always with his eyes fixed on the horizon. The past was a shadow. The future was where the real battles lay.

Plague Doctor, on the other hand, had gotten what he wanted. His vengeance was swift, his wrath exacted without hesitation, and yet, for him, it was more than just the act of killing Aliyah. There was a satisfaction in delivering that final blow, but deeper still, there was the eerie sense of closure—a strange respect for the man Krishna had become.

Plague Doctor had watched Krishna in that first fight, studying him from the shadows. The boy had endured things no one should have to endure. He had survived fights that should have broken him. He had proven something—something Plague Doctor could never fully comprehend. And so, while he had no empathy for Aliyah, he did understand the weight of Krishna’s strength. The world was full of people like Aliyah, ignorant of the power that lived in the people around them, but Krishna was different. Krishna had made it through. He had come out on top, even when the world seemed to want to crush him.

Plague Doctor respected that. He understood that kind of strength—because it was the same strength that fueled him.

But respect didn’t mean mercy. It just meant the consequence would be swifter, more calculated. Aliyah had paid for her mistake, and now the story was over.

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MOVING FORWARD

As for Krishna? He was already moving on, already focused on the next chapter of his life. The past, with all its heartbreak and betrayal, was gone. It was nothing but a series of lessons learned, a part of his journey that had shaped him, but no longer defined him. He wasn’t the same person he had been before—no longer the boy who had loved Aliyah, no longer the one who had been consumed by pain.

Now, Krishna was a force of his own making. He had learned, grown, and come to understand that the only thing that mattered was survival, and that meant embracing the future with both hands, no matter what it might bring. The world was full of dangers, full of people who would try to tear you down or betray you, but Krishna had learned how to rise above it all.

And so, he moved forward, eyes on the horizon, no looking back. The past was a ghost, and he had no time for ghosts.

The future? That was where his true power lay.

Plague Doctor's Reflection: The Law of Human Nature

The dimly lit room was silent, save for the faint dripping of water from the cracked pipes above. Plague Doctor stood in front of an ancient mirror, his reflection distorted by the grime and age of the glass. His mask, a twisted thing, stared back at him with hollow, expressionless eyes. He slowly reached up, his gloved hand brushing against the cold surface as he began to speak to his own reflection.

"Human nature," he mused aloud, his voice low and rasping, "is a beautiful thing in its own tragic way. They are all so short-sighted. So blind to the truth of the world around them."

He leaned in closer, his face inches from the mirror. "They chase fleeting pleasures, grasping for satisfaction in the moment, never considering the consequences. They live as if the world owes them something, unaware that the world has no mercy. They believe they can control it, shape it, but it slips through their fingers like sand. And when they make mistakes, they beg for forgiveness. They beg for time they can’t have."

A dry chuckle escaped him, as if he were amused by the ignorance of those who still believed they could change their fate. His voice grew colder.

"They don’t see the truth, do they? That every action has its price. And some prices can never be paid. They think they can walk away from their wrongs, but life isn’t that simple. It doesn’t forgive. It doesn’t forget. And those who think they can get away with disrespecting the strong, with mocking those they believe beneath them—they are the ones who will learn that lesson the hardest."

He straightened up, his reflection staring back at him with an almost eerie calm.

"Krishna understands. He sees it. He knows the law of human nature—that those who survive, those who endure, they do so because they grasp the truth: power, respect, survival—they are earned. You don’t simply get to take them. And those who forget that… well, they pay the price."

The reflection seemed to twist as he stepped back, the moment of silence heavy with a grim understanding.

"I wonder," he whispered, his voice trailing off, "if Aliyah ever truly understood that before the end. Probably not. She was too blinded by her own desires, too short-sighted to see the future. But her mistakes? Her fate? They serve as a reminder that no one escapes the law of nature."

Plague Doctor turned away, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty room. The lesson was complete, and the world had just become a little more inescapable.