"Was it worth it?"

The words echoed in the vast void, a question that resonated not just in sound but in the depths of the soul. The voice—ethereal, boundless, like the whisper of the cosmos—floated gently through the starry river of time where the Immortal drifted.

The Immortal's figure was radiant, yet subdued—an enigma of ethereal beauty. His long, silver-white hair cascaded around him, shimmering faintly as though woven from strands of moonlight. His serene face carried a tranquility that seemed unshakable, yet there was an unmistakable sorrow hidden beneath his closed eyes. A sorrow that clung to him like the shadows of a forgotten past.

"Was it worth it?" the question repeated, more insistent this time, as though demanding an answer from the silence.

The Immortal opened his eyes, which shimmered like the sun and moon in perfect balance, and stared into the endless expanse. The gentle currents of the starry river carried him forward, but his thoughts lingered behind, caught in the web of memories that bound him.

"I've reached the summit of the world," he murmured, his voice a soft, wistful note amidst the infinite void. "I am now... Immortal."

Yet, as he spoke, the weight of those words bore down on him, suffocating in its enormity. Immortality, that ultimate pursuit, had cost him everything. He had torn apart the fabric of his mortal life to ascend beyond it. Yet, as he floated in this endless current, a heavy emptiness coiled tightly around his heart.

The question lingered, piercing through his haze of reflection. "Was it worth it?"

He closed his eyes again, and tears—small, fleeting, yet infinitely heavy—slipped down his ethereal cheeks. They disappeared into the flowing currents, as if even time itself sought to erase his sorrow.

"Oh, Heaven," he whispered, his voice trembling under the weight of his emotions. "If I am an Immortal... why can't I go back in time?"

The void offered no immediate reply, as though the universe itself had stopped to consider his plea. Then, finally, the voice spoke again—gentle, omnipresent, and ineffably wise.

"Child," it said softly, "there is no such thing as going back in time. The world moves only forward. Time is but a concept, a mortal way to name the moments that pass. It exists only in perception. Even I, the Heaven itself, cannot wield such power, for it does not exist."

The Immortal's lips pressed into a thin line, his chest rising and falling with a breath that carried all the bitterness of realization. The tears, once silent, burned now as they fell.

"Was it worth it, then?" he asked aloud, his voice breaking like fragile glass against the endless void. "Was it worth the sacrifices, the loss, the unbearable loneliness?"

Silence returned for a moment, its presence as heavy as the stars themselves. Then, the voice answered once more, its tone tinged with sorrow and understanding.

"You are here now, child," it said. "You are no longer bound by time, no longer tethered by mortal constraints. You have reached heights unattainable by others. And though the path you walk is solitary, you are not entirely alone. I will accompany you through infinity."

But the Immortal shook his head, his tears mingling with the ethereal flow around him. "It is not your company I seek, Heaven," he whispered. "Perhaps... I am simply tired of living."

The voice faltered, as though even it struggled to answer such a sentiment. But it offered no argument, no comfort beyond its quiet presence.

The Immortal let out a breath—a sound of surrender. "Good night, then, Heaven," he said softly, his glowing eyes closing once more. "Perhaps I will dream of better days."

"Rest well, child," the voice murmured as its presence began to fade. "Dream sweetly, Immortal."

The river of time continued its ceaseless flow, carrying the Immortal gently onward. And though the question—Was it worth it?—hung unanswered in the void, its weight remained with him, lingering like a shadow in the light of eternity.

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