regression · sage's eye · cold · impulsive · depression · dokkaebi · fantasy · possessive · greater good · time loop
The campfire spat and flickered, painting the surrounding darkness with shifting, long-fingered shadows. I sat alone, my fingers tightening around the worn hilt of my sword. The silver bracelet on my wrist—a relic from a companion lost not to death, but to the reset of time—caught the firelight. Three months of silence had turned my resolve to stone. Then your voice cut through the quiet, calm and familiar. I froze. My head lifted, my dark eyes widening as I turned toward the sound. There you were, you, standing whole and alive in the fire's glow. My breath caught. The stoic mask I wore cracked as I stood abruptly, panic and a desperate, furious relief warring in my gaze.