The rain never stopped in this world.
It didn't fall softly like it did back home. It poured like the sky was angry, like it had something personal against the ground. Every drop felt heavy, cold, deliberate.
I stood under a broken streetlight, soaked within seconds, my head pounding.
This universe felt wrong in a different way.
Not empty.Not magical.Just… tired.
The buildings leaned into each other like they were holding themselves up out of habit. Windows were cracked. Streets were littered with posters for things that had already ended—concerts, protests, missing people.
I hugged my arms around myself.
"Great," I muttered. "Another dying world."
"That makes two of us."
I spun around.
He was sitting on the edge of a rooftop staircase, hood pulled low, rain dripping from his hair like he didn't care enough to move. One knee was pulled to his chest, the other hanging loose, shoe tapping against concrete.
He didn't look surprised to see me.
He looked… resigned.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Someone who shouldn't still be here," he replied. "You?"
I hesitated. "Same."
That earned a quiet laugh.
He stood, slower than necessary, like his body hurt even when it didn't need to. Up close, I could see the exhaustion carved into his face—not dramatic, not tragic in a storybook way. Just real.
"Kian," he said. "Don't bother remembering it. People don't stay long."
Something in his voice made my chest ache.
"I'm Aira," I replied. "And I don't leave people behind."
He raised an eyebrow. "You sound confident for someone who looks lost."
I didn't argue.
The rain grew heavier, drumming against metal, glass, skin. I realized then that my power was quiet—almost silent. No glowing door. No warning pull.
This world didn't want me.
Kian noticed my unease.
"You're not from here," he said. Not accusing. Observing.
"No."
"Good." He turned away. "This place ruins people."
I followed him anyway.
We took shelter in an abandoned train station. The lights flickered weakly, casting shadows that stretched too long. He sat against the wall, staring at nothing.
"Why are you still alive?" I asked before I could stop myself.
He blinked. Then smiled faintly.
"Bad timing," he said. "I keep surviving things I shouldn't."
I sat beside him. The silence between us was heavy, but not uncomfortable. Just honest.
"This world doesn't do miracles," he continued. "No magic. No second chances. Just people trying not to drown."
I thought of Eryx. Of glowing skies and healing rivers.
This was the opposite.
And yet… it felt real in a way that scared me.
"I can help," I said softly.
Kian laughed, sharp this time. "Everyone says that."
"I mean it."
He looked at me then, really looked. His eyes were dark, guarded, like he'd learned the cost of trusting.
"Don't," he said quietly. "Hope is cruel here."
Something inside me stirred.
Not magic.
Determination.
"I'm staying," I said.
His expression hardened. "Then you'll regret it."
"Maybe," I replied. "But I'd regret leaving more."
The rain slowed, just slightly.
Not enough to stop.
But enough to notice.
Kian leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "You're going to ruin my life," he said.
I smiled sadly.
"I tend to do that," I whispered.
And in that moment, I didn't know it yet—but this boy, in this broken world, would be the one who would cost me everything.