Orion stood alone in the void, his pulse quickening as the infinite expanse shifted around him. Unlike Astraea's confrontation with her alternate self, the darkness here was complete—thick, suffocating. It felt as if every shadow concealed something ancient, something that had been waiting for him.
His eyes adjusted, and out of the abyss stepped a figure—an echo of himself. This Orion was older, weary, with deep scars lining his face and arms. His armor, once shining and pristine, was now battered and tarnished, stained by wars long since fought.
"You know who I am," the older Orion said, his voice rough as though dragged through decades of violence. "I'm what you become when you let go of the idea that anything in this world can be saved."
Orion's heart lurched. This was him, but in a future so bleak he could barely recognize it. A version of himself that had abandoned hope, hardened by countless battles and endless loss.
"You fight and fight," the older Orion continued, his eyes cold. "But in the end, it all falls apart. Time doesn't bend for heroes, and neither do people. You think you can protect everyone? You'll only die trying, and worse you'll watch them fall before you do."
Orion clenched his fists, the weight of the words pressing on his chest. This version of himself was the product of every failure, every moment of doubt that had ever crossed his mind. It was the embodiment of his deepest fear—that no matter how hard he fought, he couldn't save those he loved.
The older Orion stepped closer, his voice lowering into a growl. "You can let it all go, you know. Give up the fight now before it breaks you. Or worse, before it breaks them."
A flash of memory surged through Orion Astraea, Selene, Ikaros. His companions. His friends. He had fought beside them, trusted them, and promised he would protect them. And yet, here, in this void, he was being asked to abandon that promise.
He stared at the scarred version of himself. "I won't let that happen. I won't become you."
"You think you have a choice?" the older Orion sneered. "You can't control what's coming. You can't stop the tide of time. You can't even control yourself."
The older version raised his hand, and the void twisted. The shadows churned, and suddenly, figures began to materialize. First one, then another, and another, until an army stood before Orion. They were his comrades friends and allies he had lost over the years, their faces gaunt and accusing. But these weren't just ghosts from his past. They were from countless timelines, lives he had never lived, and in each, he had failed them.
"You see?" the older Orion growled. "This is what awaits you. Failure. Betrayal. And in the end, nothing. No victory. No peace. Only loss."
Orion's mind raced. He wanted to deny it, to say that it wasn't true. But the weight of their gazes their hollow, lifeless eyes pressed down on him, threatening to crush his resolve.
And then he remembered something Astraea had said once, long ago. *"You don't fight because you know you'll win. You fight because it's right."*
His heart steadied, and he looked back at his older self, his voice unwavering. "You may have given up, but I won't. I don't fight because I believe I can save everyone. I fight because it's the right thing to do. Even if I fall, even if I fail, I'll keep going."
The older Orion's face twisted in fury, his eyes narrowing. "Fool. You'll die with nothing."
"Then I'll die knowing I didn't stop trying," Orion said, his voice filled with a quiet determination.
For a moment, the older version of himself stared back, as if weighing his words. Then, slowly, the figure began to dissolve, the army of lost souls fading back into the void. The shadows receded, leaving Orion standing alone once more.
He took a deep breath. The weight on his chest had lifted, but the trial had left its mark. He knew now that his path wouldn't be easy that the fight ahead would demand everything from him. But he also knew that giving up was never an option.
The darkness around him shifted again, and he felt a tug, as though the void itself was pulling him back to his companions. With a final glance at the fading echoes of his future, Orion stepped forward, ready to rejoin the others.
Selene's Song
In another part of the Nexus, Selene stood before a vast, desolate plain. The landscape was eerily silent, with nothing but the wind sweeping across the barren land. She clutched her lyre tightly, its strings vibrating softly with the tension in the air. Her heart pounded in her chest, but the silence weighed heavier than the fear.
A figure appeared before her, stepping out of the wind itself. It was Selene, but not the Selene she knew. This version of herself wore a flowing gown made of starlight, her eyes glowing with a fierce, unearthly power. Her lyre had grown into something monstrous, a weapon that could summon storms and tear apart the heavens.
"You could be me," the other Selene said, her voice melodic but laced with danger. "A goddess of song and power. With your music, you could control the very fabric of the world, bend people to your will, make the universe sing your melody."
Selene stared at her, unable to look away. This version of herself was everything she had ever feared she might become someone who used her gift not to heal, but to dominate. Someone who let the power of her voice overshadow the truth of her heart.
"You're afraid," the other Selene said, stepping closer. "Afraid that your music isn't enough. That you aren't enough. But with this power, you would never have to doubt again. You could shape the world with a single note, command armies with a whisper."
Selene's grip on her lyre tightened. She had always known that her gift was powerful, but she had never wanted to wield it as a weapon. Music, to her, was a connection a way to reach hearts, not break them.
The other Selene tilted her head, her glowing eyes narrowing. "Why limit yourself? You could change everything. Isn't that what you want? To be remembered? To make your mark on the world?"
"I don't want to control people," Selene said quietly, her voice trembling with emotion. "I want to touch them. To help them find their own strength, their own voice."
The other Selene's face twisted into a sneer. "How noble. And how utterly naive. People don't want freedom, Selene. They want to be led, to be told what to believe, what to feel. You could give them that. You could be their guide."
Selene shook her head, stepping back. "That's not who I am."
The wind howled around her, and the other Selene's eyes flared with anger. "You're weak. You hide behind your compassion because you're afraid to take control. But if you don't seize your power, someone else will."
Selene closed her eyes, letting the wind wash over her. For a moment, she was tempted tempted to take that power, to use her voice to make the world bend to her will. But then she thought of the people she had sung for, the lives her music had touched, the moments of shared joy and sorrow.
She opened her eyes, her voice steady. "Music isn't about control. It's about connection. And I won't let that be twisted into something dark."
The other Selene's expression softened, her glowing eyes dimming. She stared at Selene for a long moment, and then, without another word, she dissolved into the wind, leaving only the soft hum of the lyre's strings behind.
Selene stood in the silence, her heart racing but her resolve firm. She had faced her fear, and though the trial had tested her, she had emerged stronger, more certain of who she was.
The landscape around her began to blur, and she felt herself being pulled back, her companions waiting for her on the other side of the Nexus.
Each of them had faced their own trials, their own fears, and had emerged with a deeper understanding of who they were. But the journey was far from over. The Fates still awaited their final decision, and the cost of mending time was yet to be revealed.