Chapter 1. A friend both old and new

"I hate myself." The emotionless voice immediately dissolved into the roar of crashing water. "Should I just... get it over with?"

Light pierced through the cracked vaults of the ancient sanctuary in three blinding pillars, cutting through thick fog and stone dust. The cold silver radiance carved shapes from the darkness—columns rising skyward like petrified sentinels, covered with centuries of damp residue.

"You used to beg me to bring you here," the girl said distantly, standing alone near the precipice. "How stupid I was."

Three massive waterfalls thundered from above, their roar merging into a single symphony—not deafening, but vibrating in one's chest. Water spray rose in clouds of finest mist, refracting the light.

"Only after losing someone we can never get back are we suddenly yanked from the flow, the blindfold we wear over our eyes ripped away." Her face expressed nothing, only the barely perceptible tension in her muscles betraying the emotions churning within her soul. "I failed. I'm sorry."

She gripped the small urn tighter in her hands. The ceramic was simple, unremarkable, without decoration.

"They say souls who take their own lives don't go to heaven." She extended her arms with the urn over the precipice, where the waterfall plunged. "But even if it's hell, it doesn't matter..."

The girl raised her turquoise eyes to the ceiling—to the openings where light streamed through. A barely visible smile crossed her face, though her eyes, as if dead, expressed nothing.

"Even in hell... It could hardly be more painful than our life. But I promise—we'll meet again."

She unclenched her long fingers, releasing the urn. It fell downward—toward where the waterfall's waters converged, where foam and spray concealed the bottom of the abyss.

Taking a deep breath, she drew a dagger—old, unremarkable, rusty in places, but crudely sharpened, as if by an amateur.

"We're so alike," she addressed the dagger, gripping it firmly. "They say some weapons can develop a spirit. I wonder if you'd like the burden I've prepared for you?"

Her voice sounded even, devoid of peaks and valleys, almost mechanical.

"'She's lost her mind'—they'd say."

She returned the dagger to the inner pocket of her unremarkable gray cloak. "'The time hasn't come yet'..." flashed through her thoughts as she turned...

And froze.

Before her, about thirty feet away, was a figure. A young man stood there, tall and gaunt to the point of exhaustion. Like her moments before, he was gazing up at the holes in the vault where light streamed through. His long white hair hung in uneven strands like sun-bleached straw, partially concealing his face.

"So ethereal," she thought, struck by the otherworldly quality that clung to him.

He turned toward her then, his features so finely drawn they seemed almost unreal. When he smiled—that strange, luminous smile—something deep in her chest tightened.

"The divine spark within us, which all seek but none can grasp," he paused, approaching closer. "Does it not reveal itself in those who mirror our essence back to us?"

He raised a finger theatrically.

"We, as creators, can reflect beauty in others. Or perhaps... not so much."

His gaze slid to the spot beneath her clothes where the dagger was hidden.

"Do we know each other?" The words escaped before she could stop them, cold and flat.

"Depends how you see it." His smile widened as he approached. "From where I stand, we're saying goodbye." He tilted his head, taking a breath. "But for you? We're just meeting."

"What do you want?" Cold detachment permeated her voice. Nevertheless, she couldn't deny that the stranger's appearance was enchantingly beautiful, like the prince she'd once dreamed of. A scent emanated from him that could only be described as "mountainous." Turning sideways, covering part of her face and lips with her palm, she stared at the stranger as if wanting to see the smallest detail of his expressions.

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"Would you like to change your life? Start everything over?" The smile left his face, replaced by a penetrating gaze.

"I don't buy into fantasies," she glanced at his dark eyes, but something in them made her look away quickly, unsettled.

He smiled:

"An appraising look. So—am I handsome?" He looked into her eyes, which she averted, not wanting to maintain eye contact any longer.

"I'm not interested in princes. What did you want?"

"To spend time in the company of an old friend. That's all," he smiled, apparently pleased with his intriguing provocation.

"I don't remember any stuck-up pretty boys."

"You want to drive me crazy in this life too?" His gaze twitched. "This is an important moment, a turning point. Life's climax," he spread his arms theatrically, forming a rainbow.

"We don't even know each other and you're already complaining. What do you want?"

Suddenly her eyes widened. An ordinary wooden chair with a comfortable reclining back materialized near the young man's hand, followed by a second, which he placed beside it.

But there was something else that caught her eye—the absence of the stripe that should have stretched from shoulder to wrist, shimmering with light.

"Where's your lifeline?" For the first time, emotion flickered in her voice—a mix of surprise and wariness.

"You should see your face right now! Like you've got a personal grudge against the universe," he said, completely ignoring her question.

"Answer me," she continued to drill him with her gaze, not sitting in the chair he'd placed beside him.

"I don't like tattoos," he answered, leaning back in his chair.

"Are you an idiot? It's the lifeline where energy flows, indicating our lifespan!"

And as if not caring that a mage might be sitting before her, she continued to stare, unmoving.

"See? And you claim we don't know each other. Are you even paying attention? You're in the presence of possibly the greatest mage alive!" He struck a theatrical pose, hand on his chair, chin raised high—somehow managing to look down at her even though he was seated.

"You?" For the first time twisting her face, she swept her gaze over him again.

"But yes, you don't have much time left. Your life force is nearly depleted." He seemed to see right through her sleeve to the lifeline beneath. It wasn't a death sentence exactly, but her eyes dropped in grief.

"Would you mind gracing the chair with your presence?" He gestured with a flourish, then pulled out a cigarette case. The patterned silver lid snapped shut with a musical click.

"I don't smoke," she answered dryly, sitting down beside him.

"No cash or just too good for it?"

She merely buried her face in her hands, comfortably propped on the chair's edges.

"What do you want? Can't you see—the girl's in pain," without lifting her face, as if lost in thought, she continued rubbing her eyes.

"What do you regret in this life?"

She looked up, caught off guard—not by the question, but by the sudden sadness in his voice. He turned to her with a faint smile and held out the cigarette.

"Life is one big mistake," her lips stretched into a bitter smile. "Zero potential in magic. A rat living in the lower city, changing one meaningless job after another, having lost family, distanced from friends and the world."

The bitter smile stayed on her lips. She grabbed the cigarette without looking at him.

"And I pushed away the one person who truly loved me."

The cigarette lit itself the instant she touched it, flaring to life with impossible magic. For a moment, the flame cast her face in warm gold.

"Ugly." She stared at her work-roughened hands, then took a long drag.

As if detached, she sat in silence, staring at a point, as though forgetting she needed to speak. Only occasionally did she shift her gaze to the smoke dissipating in fractal patterns, mixing with the mist from the waterfalls.

"If you ask me, you're quite beautiful," the words sounded unexpectedly, jolting her from her trance.

"Thank you for being with me," he said quietly, snapping her out of her daze.

She turned to look at him. He sat lost in thought, cigarette butt dangling from his fingers, that strange smile playing on his lips as he gazed up at the shafts of light. She studied his profile intently, trying to read the mind behind that beautiful, enigmatic face.

Then he turned. Their eyes met and held.

"It won't be easy. But don't give up. It's not as difficult to destroy a world as it is to piece it back together." His smile deepened. "Your words, not mine."

The smile grew wider, almost impish now.

"Until we meet again. In your new life—and this time, I hope, a happy one."

"Wait!" She lunged forward, grasping for his tunic.

Her fingers found nothing but air. The fabric dissolved at her touch like morning mist.

"Don't go!" She reached for him desperately, trying to catch hold of something, anything—but he was already fading. Colors swirled and dissipated where he'd been sitting, vanishing like smoke on the wind.

A coin clinked against the stone floor. It was the only proof he'd been there at all.