The night was silent, yet Akari felt an unbearable weight press upon her chest as she lay in bed. Her wounds throbbed beneath fresh bandages, each breath a reminder of the day's battle. The infirmary's moonlit walls seemed to close in around her, and though exhaustion pulled at her limbs, her mind raced with unanswered questions. She could still smell the acrid scent of magic that had filled the air during their confrontation with Kael, could still feel the raw power that had emanated from him like waves of darkness.
Just as her consciousness began to drift between reality and dreams, a sudden warmth engulfed her, as gentle as spring sunshine yet as powerful as a tide. When she opened her eyes, the sterile walls of the academy's infirmary had vanished. Instead, she stood barefoot in an endless field of golden flowers that swayed in a windless dance. Above her, the sky shimmered like a canvas of stars, but these were no ordinary constellations—each point of light pulsed with ancient memories, telling stories she could almost, but not quite, understand.
A soft voice called her name, carrying with it the whisper of countless ages. Turning around, she saw a radiant figure standing before her—a woman whose very presence made the air hum with power. Her form seemed to shift like light through crystal, sometimes solid, sometimes translucent, but always magnificent. Her emerald eyes held depths of wisdom that made Akari's soul ache, and compassion radiated from her like heat from a flame. Everything about her spoke of life itself—of birth and death, of growth and decay, of the eternal cycle that bound all things together.
"You have suffered much," the woman spoke, her voice carrying notes of wind through ancient trees and water over smooth stones. "But it is not yet over. You must see, you must understand. Only then can you decide the path forward." Each word seemed to resonate with truth, making the golden flowers tremble at their roots.
Before Akari could respond, reality twisted around her like a kaleidoscope being turned. Colors bled and reformed, and suddenly she was no longer herself but a witness to history unfolding. She saw Kael—no, Hoshi—as he had been before everything changed. His face was younger, unmarked by the centuries of pain that would come. His laughter rang pure and true as he trained alongside his fellow students, his eyes bright with dreams and determination. In every gesture, every smile, she saw the friend they had lost.
But then the scene darkened, and Akari watched in horror as divine hands reached down from above. The gods were not as legend had painted them—not wise benefactors but cruel experimenters, their touch burning like acid wherever it fell. They seized Hoshi, their chosen subject, and began their work. Akari wanted to look away but couldn't as they tore into his soul with surgical precision, breaking and reshaping, testing and discarding, until the person they held barely resembled the man who had begun the ordeal.
Immortality was their first gift, and their cruelest. Akari watched as Hoshi lived and died and lived again, each time losing something precious. He built kingdoms only to watch them crumble, loved only to watch time steal everything away. The gods watched his suffering like children observing an insect, and when his power grew too great, they simply reset the board, stripping away everything he had built, everything he had become.
The final betrayal unfolded before her eyes with terrible clarity. When Hoshi finally rebelled, when he dared to step outside the boundaries of their game, they didn't destroy him—they simply changed the rules. A new world, a new game, and at its center, a trap disguised as power: the divinity of pride. Akari saw how carefully they had laid their snare, how deliberately they had led him to this poisoned chalice. Pride, the strongest of sins, filled him with unimaginable power even as it hollowed him out from within, replacing humanity with divine corruption until Hoshi vanished and only Kael remained.
"He does not hate without reason," the goddess said softly, her presence returning as the visions faded. The weight of ages lay heavy in her voice. "His hatred is justified. His pain is endless. And now, the Pride within him suppresses what little remains of the man you once knew." Her words hung in the air like the last notes of a funeral dirge.
Tears streamed down Akari's face, hot and bitter with understanding. "Then how do I save him?" The question burst from her heart, raw and desperate.
The goddess placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, her touch both burning and soothing. "That is a question only you can answer. But know this—he is not beyond salvation. Not yet." A smile touched her lips, sad but hopeful. "Sometimes the greatest pride is admitting when we need help, and the greatest strength lies in forgiveness."
As the vision began to fade, the field of golden flowers dissolving like morning mist, Akari felt a new resolve crystallizing within her. She could not change the centuries of torment Hoshi had endured, could not undo the gods' cruel games, but she could fight for what remained. Somewhere beneath the weight of divinity and torment, beneath the armor of pride and pain, Kael—Hoshi—still existed.
And she would find a way to bring him back, no matter the cost.