Dimensions Collide: Destiny Bond

John sat down heavily. [Deus Ex Machina] itself didn’t really use up a lot of strength or anything, but still, he was tired. Prota hovered next to him, also exhausted as the tears in her eyes dried up. She leaned her head against his shoulder and was soon asleep, her chest rising and falling peacefully as her body gained some much needed rest. John himself wanted to sleep, but the adrenaline pumping through his body wouldn’t let him.

His hand relaxed as his pen fell to his side, the last bits of ink dried out. There was a soft glow as the tool began to scatter into bits of white light, floating through the air into the sky.

The entire facility was gone. He’d been taken through halls worth of experiments, rooms full of torture and suffering, experimenting and research. Who knew how long this place had been here? How long the people in it had suffered?

It didn’t matter now. It was gone. Obliterated. Razed to the ground, with not a single shred of evidence that anything had existed here in the first place.

He sighed as he pulled out a bottle of unknown substance and took a swig. He wasn’t sure what the drink was, but it was green, fizzy and almost sickeningly sweet. It also purged any tension that was left in his body, as if it were some kind of miracle tonic. It wasn’t, though. Drinks from his home planet couldn’t be miracle drinks, especially not compared to the potions of this world. The sun shone on his face as he took another swig, the warmth seeping through his body as he closed his eyes.

Everything was gone. He’d been talking about writing his own [Story], but there were still so many things he couldn’t do. The bodies of every prisoner, every slave, every child, they were all gone. Not a trace of them remained. It was a miracle- no, scratch that, an oversight by the [Author]- that the bodies of the [Characters] John needed had remained at all. He shook his head. It wasn’t his place to fix things like that.

Besides, that was the role of a [Side Character]—to disappear without anyone knowing they’d been there in the first place. Who would cry for them? The [Readers]? Those fools probably didn’t even give the deceased a second thought. Unless a [Character] was given special treatment, no one cared for an unknown, unnamed thing.

John shook his head. He, too, didn’t care about them. Had he had the [Deus Ex Machina] energy, he wouldn’t have bothered to use it on reviving the masses held prisoner in these labs. He thought about the soulless slaves Doctor had created and sighed. Maybe it was better that they were dead. If they’d remained, they’d be scarred for life. Was that even a life worth living?

It wasn’t his place to judge. He took another swig and laughed. What a hypocrite he was. Who was he to decide whether they lived or died?

“Well, that’s what I’ve been doing this whole time,” John laughed bitterly. “Isn’t it?”

He looked at Olivia’s body, breathing and alive. Well, maybe that was something. He’d saved someone he would’ve normally left for dead.

In his mind, her death would’ve been justified. It would’ve worked toward Danjo’s growth, which in turn would’ve worked toward the defeat of the demon king. Wasn’t that what he wanted? Wasn’t that supposed to be the outcome? He gained nothing from her life. Her existence didn’t benefit him in the slightest.

He shook his head. He was giving it a chance. He wasn’t sure what he was giving a chance to, but something felt different. The look he was giving the people around his was no longer a gaze of indifference, but rather something else. He didn’t know what that something else was, but it was something.

It was better than nothing.

He felt his eyes grow heavy as the energy in his body slowly left him. Even if he wasn’t aware of it, the mental exhaustation of fighting for millions of years was bound to take a toll. Without thinking, he wrapped his arm around Prota and closed his eyes, giving into the world of sleep.

~~~

“What now?”

John sat up. A dream. How long since he’d had one of these? Ever since leaving his old world. Ever since he’d found out that his reality was a fiction. Dreams weren’t possible for him anymore.

“What now, John?”

That voice. It was familiar. Where had he…

“Amber?”

John turned around to see a familiar face. No. He shook his head. He was trying to forget about her. Why was she here now? That stupid cave should’ve been the last of it all. That world was gone now. So why did it keep coming back to plague him?

“Hi.”

Was it really her? No, this was a dream. Maybe it was better to play along. He blinked a couple of times, trying to activate his system, but it was gone. He rubbed his eyes, then realized how little of a difference that would make. This probably really was a dream. It was better to play along.

John looked around, scanning… nothing. There was just a vast void with no end in sight. The horizon slowly turned black, giving the illusion of sun and space, fluffy clouds littering the otherwise empty blue sky. Underneath was some kind of white flooring, clear and shiny, reflecting the scenery overhead, like a giant mirror. The only thing interrupting the endless void was a single tree with a circular patch of grass around it, its branches swaying invitingly despite the lack of wind. There sat Amber, leaning against the trunk, patting the ground next to her invitingly. Frowning, John slowly walked over, unsure of what to do.

“Uh… hey.”

“Hey.”

“...where are we?”

“A dream.”

“I don’t- what?”

Amber shook her head. “Why are you asking me?”

She leaned back against the tree, closing her eyes. A breeze blew by, Amber’s brown hair fluttering in the wind.

“Maybe I’m Amber. Maybe I’m not. But still. Won’t you answer my question? What now?”

John froze. That question. Yeah. What now? So much had happened, and that was just the start. He’d done a lot. Come so far. And there was still more to come.

Broken. Alone. Driven by one purpose, and one purpose only. To recover his memories and leave. He had allies, not companions. He had tools that could be used in specific scenarios, but no matter how hard he tried, his memories stayed out of reach. Years of solitude. Years of wandering aimlessly, accomplishing nothing but surviving.

A total lack of emotion surrounded him. He was quite the actor with how he’d tended to his bar, but otherwise, there was nothing for him to feel. No reason to be happy. No reason to be sad.

That is, until he found Prota. Broken. Alone. Discarded in a lone alleyway like a doll, afraid to hurt those who hurt her, forced to endure a fate she could not escape on her own.

“Hey, hey, I’m harmless. I… uh… I’m not gonna hurt you, ok?”

A year. Nurturing, recovering, and despite everything, growing closer. John’s least productive year had somehow been the best one since coming to this world. Prota’s request had given him something to do other than search for his memories. She’d given a destination to his wandering. A goal to his monotone life.

“Help me… save my sister!”

Then, somehow, everything had happened all at once. What had started as pacing around had turned into a full sprint with no warning. Prota’s power, leading into Grey’s betrayal, which would’ve been calm had it not been the precursor to so much more.

Prota’s kidnapping. John’s emotions. A rush. A fight. [Infinity]. The obliteration of one group led to the arrival of the demon king, who by some chance was the one with his memories, the reason why he was here.

And he’d lost. And he’d [Reset]. And there was Jinae, and Prota’s power, and then-

[[Destiny Bond]: Initiated.]

[Good luck, John.]

Breaking the news to Prota about the world, the [Story], the [Plot]. The end of one arc, onto the next one, indicated by a simple trek to the village. What had started slow had once again exploded into confusion with the existence of Fate. The [Protagonist].

“Prota, if this world is a story, then there’s a main character, right?”

“Then… we need to meet that main character. The [Protagonist]. We have to be friends with him, no matter what.”

Then there was a sudden involvement in the plot, a direct connection to the events that would shock the world. A way to bond with the individual who would be in the limelight of everything.

“We don’t think you’re the enemy. And if you’re not the enemy, then why not stick with us?”

How long had it even been since Albert had extended that offer? Almost a year now, no? Come to think of it, Prota’s birthday was soon. How had he forgotten about that? All the pain had somehow overshadowed one of the brightest moments during his time here.

And somehow, just like that, he’d began to feel again. It had taken just one precious person for his emotions to light up. The flame was dim, but it was there, waiting to be ignited.

“...is that a yes?”

Prota nodded, burying her face into John’s chest, and he returned the embrace, a small but sincere smile appearing on his lips.

“Thank you, Prota.”

Then he’d met Kit, and learned about Mystics. It was there that he’d learned that Prota didn’t fit in with the world. How her powers were an irregularity that shouldn’t exist. Despite that, Prota continued to climb, continued to push. Breaking. Breaking free of multiple fears, breaking free of a past that had bound her, breaking through the limits of a normal person.

And while Prota broke some of her chains, John was forced to revisit old ones. Chains he thought he’d broken, but were still there, still tying him down. That cave. That stupid cave.

Amber.

But she wasn’t real. Made out of his memories, an insult that kept what he wanted just out of reach, just like a dream. Like a mist, always just out of reach, something John could never hold, never have.

“You know the answer just as well as I do. I’m not real. The purpose of this cave is to push you further. I did that. There was no need to fight any further.”

Then a blur. The mansion, Draco, the souls, the organization. Information spilling out, exposition pouring through, and through it all, John hadn’t paid much attention to it. He’d just followed the flow and ignored everything around him other than what he deemed necessary.

A poor [Story] altogether, in his eyes.

Then came that rescue mission, and with it came Danjo. Danjo. How much had they sacrificed for him and his sister? John shook his head. He’d made that decision, and he wouldn’t back out of it. Things hadn’t gotten any easier from there.

That fight with those two strangely powerful men, where he’d used [Infinity] for the second time since coming to this world. It was here that his morals, his purpose, his path had been questioned. Where he’d been forced to start choosing what he would do from here on out.

[Character]. They died so easily. Their deaths served purposes, usually, but still.

Zero’s little story about curses and blessings. Despite how boring it’d been, in this particular moment, it stuck to John like a pest, buzzing in his ear. What was a blessing? What was a curse?

It wasn’t as if John hadn’t had time to think about it, though. Training. Preparation. What was evidently a short time skip had been a couple of full time months for John. Then they’d entered that dungeon and saved Draco, against all of John’s wishes. That was right.

There was still revenge to be taken.

Then that fatal dungeon, that dungeon where he’d been kidnapped. Where Fate and Danjo had come for him, despite everything. Where everyone had made their final stand, and where they’d died over and over.

Where was he now? And where would he go?

“What now?”

John looked up as he muttered those words. Into a fake sky, even faker than the world he was in. How ironic. A dream inside a dream, a sky made from his imagination inside of a world made by the imagination of another.

“What do you want, John?” Amber said quietly. “What do you think of this world now?”

“I want to write a story that I can enjoy. I don’t want a story that the [Readers] will enjoy. This story is for me. A good story is enjoyable. It’s fun. It’s an escape from a harsh reality. But a good story requires the suffering of others. So why should I have to suffer when I’m the one who wants to enjoy this story?”

That was right. It was cheesy. It was cliche. But for him, it was perfect. For someone whose existence was perfectly unique, it was just what he needed.

“I’ll do it.”

“What? I wanna hear you say it.”

“...no.”

“Why not? It’s just you and me. Well, it might just be you.”

“Well, you’re right. I’m sure no one else is reading this. Unless… people are into terrible writing? Nah, there’s no way. There can’t be anyone reading this.”

“John. The [Author] can’t be that bad, right?”

“Ah, so you’re the [Author]?”

“No, silly,” Amber laughed. “I’m you. Not Zero. Not the [Author]. You. And you need to answer this question. I- no, we need to hear you say it.”

“Why? If you’re me, then you know the answer, right?”

“Come on, it’s fine then, right? Please.”

John sighed.

“I’ll do it. I’ll write my own [Story]. I wanna… do things my own way from now on.”

Everything came crashing together. Prota. Diaboli. Fate. Kit. Danjo. Albert. Doctor.

The [Story]. The things he’d influenced, the things he’d changed.

Some of it was under his control. Other parts weren’t.

But he didn’t care. He’d change what he could. Write what he wanted. Companions. Enemies. Friends. Family. They could be taken from him, they could be destroyed, but he could [Write] them back. He would force the tragedy out of his story as much as he could.

“I… am a [Writer]. I’ll choose what I want.”

Amber smiled. “Thank you. You’re special, John. You’re not just a [Character]. Remember that. And… thank you.”

“Th- thank you? Hey, what do you-”

Amber disappeared, and John’s system came back. He blinked as it glitched back into his vision, shaking for a bit before a message filled his view.

[You’ve done a lot more for me than you’ll ever know. And… I’m sorry. But you’ll understand in time. You’ll understand as the [Readers] do, actually. So do just that. [Read] your own [Story]. And everything will make sense.]

“Hey, hey, hold on a minute!” John yelled angrily. “Was that… [Author]? Was that you? What the fuck! I thought you couldn’t interact! Hey, you said you weren’t the [Author]! What the fu-”

“Simmer down. It’s the [Author]. They can do a little self insert if they want, right? As a little treat.”

John whipped around to see Zero, standing behind him with a sad smile on his face.

“Where were you?”

“Sorry. This is your dream, after all. I thought I’d leave you alone.”

John sat down heavily, staring at the sky through the reflection on the ground.

“I… what now? That was the [Author], Zero. What if I’m just playing into their hands again?”

“Well. What did they say?”

“What now, John?”

“Does who they were change anything?”

“...I guess not.”

“You’ve got people waiting for you, John.”

“Yeah. I guess I do.”

He got up and looked up at the sky. It looked exactly the same as the one in the ground, and yet it felt so much more different. Ultimately, they accomplished the same thing. They were both scenery, and yet one held so much more meaning. Just by looking at that sea of blue in a different way, one could feel that it was real.

Zero grinned and gave a little salute. “See you on the flip side.”

He vanished, leaving behind a little puff of smoke. John scoffed. Zero never left a puff of smoke behind. What did he think he was?

“No more [Resets], then. This is it.” A feeling of tension grew in John’s heart. He was nervous.

Even since before he’d been aware of the truth of the world, he’d been reckless. Careless. There was never a need to watch his actions, because he was always capable of [Resets]. Always capable of fixing things.

His fighting style pissed his opponents off, because there was never a need to take a fight seriously. There was never a need to fight with everything he had, because there was no point in trying so hard when all he had to do was put in a minimal amount of effort. He’d developed so much around abandoning his fear of death, because death wasn’t a threat to him.

Now what? He’d known that his ability to [Reset] would be taken away at some point. It was an ability that went against the flow of a [Story]. But now that it’d actually happened…

This was “life.” This was now a “reality.” It didn’t matter if things were fake. He, too, might as well be fake. He had one shot.

“Yeah. I guess that’s it, then.” He looked up one more time.

He could feel the blood pumping from his heart to the tips of his fingers, the warm reaching all the way down to his toes, flowing back up, his eyes lighting up with energy. There was no threat. No enemy.

But he felt the most alive he’d felt in ages.

[Determination activates!]

~~~

John sat straight up, his heart still pounding as he went from dream to reality. He could still feel the blood rushing through his veins, his breaths heavy as his body demanded compensation for the work it was doing.

“John? Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a dream.”

“Must’ve been quite the dream if you woke up like that.” Fate looked at him calmly, nodding as if he understood. John did a double take as he saw the boy without his mask on. Right. Just one more reminder.

It was all over now.

John nodded once in return, looking around the room. Prota was asleep in the bed beside his, her chest rising and falling calmly.

“She woke up a bit before you, then fell back asleep. Truth be told… you’ve been asleep for a day longer than all of us.”

“...then what’re you still doing in bed?”

“The fact that you’re alive is insane,” the silver hair boy said, shaking his head. “I don’t know how you survived. Our injuries were beyond simple potions. They’re having us stay here for at least a week.”

“...Danjo?” John frowned, scanning the room.

“He didn’t get hurt too bad. He was standing a bit further back. I’m not sure how that mattered, considering the depth of the crater they found us in, but apparently he’s fine now. His sister, on the other hand…”

John clenched his fists. What? There was no way. Had [Deus Ex Machina] failed him?

“She’s in a critical condition. Incredibly unhealthy, malnutritioned, signs of torture… it’s incredible she survived that long.”

“Well, she was pretty resourceful,” John muttered. “Given her situation.”

“You know about it?”

“Well, yeah. She was dragged in after me, don’t remember how long after, though. We talked a bit. She seems like a pretty kind older sister.”

Suddenly, John remembered. Kit. Where was she?

“Hey, where’s-”

John’s question was immediately answered as Kit hopped out from under the bed, turning into her human form.

“Aw, you care.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go back to being a fox.”

Kit pouted as she quickly transformed, back, jumping onto Prota’s bed and nestling in for a nap.

“So.” John just stared at the boy in the bed across from him. “What do I call you now?”

He stared at the broken mask once known as Fate.

“You told me. Someday, you’d tell me your story. Now’s a fine time, right? And that’s not your real name. I deserve this much, right?”

“...Destiny. My name is Destiny.”

His voice was sombre, but John couldn’t find the situation any funnier. He burst out laughing so loudly that Prota’s eyes snapped open from her sleep.

“There’s no way. I thought I heard right the first time, but… Destiny? Fate? Really?”

“I’m not the greatest at naming, alright? It works. And what do you mean, first time? I never told you my name.”

“I- never mind,” John said, calming down.

He opened his arms as Prota crawled into his bed, burying her face into his chest. Her breathing calmed down as she soon sank back into a deep sleep, this time in his arms.

“She was really worried about you, you know,” Destiny said, looking at the white haired girl. “She wouldn’t say anything. She just kept calling your name out, occasionally going to your bedside and trying to shake you awake. You were really out.”

“...huh. Interesting.”

“What, that she cares for you?”

John shifted into a more comfortable position, making sure not to disturb Prota.

“So. What now, Destiny?”

“The Scholaris applications open in April, and then the tests begin in May. It’s March right now.”

“Lotta yapping, not much information. Get on with it.”

Destiny stared at John. Somehow, the expression was exactly how John imagined it would be under the mask.

“Haah… listen. I was sent here by the royal Elvish family to investigate a hidden organization dealing with strange magic. I’m finished now, so… I’ll go back home, I guess.”

“So you are royalty! That explains the potions… the riches…” John stared greedily at Fate. “How much money do you have?”

“What the- I’m not some kind of charity! What are you thinking?”

Destiny sighed, trying to calm himself. “There’s nothing left for me here. I’m done. You said you were planning on sending Prota to Scholaris, right?”

“Yeah. I was gonna give it a try, too.”

“You? How’re you going to- never mind.”

The two sat in silence for a bit, unsure of what to say next.

Destiny thought for a bit. “Say. What happened there?”

“What?”

“You know. That battle.”

Destiny’s mood was down. That was understandable. But… he didn’t know. Destiny didn’t know about Doctor, about their true relationship, about everything. He didn’t know the atrocities Doctor committed. He didn’t know about Celeste, or whoever that was. He didn’t know that Doctor was the man who’d tortured him for ages.

John could tell him. He could tell Destiny that he’d failed to kill the man that had been the monster of his life. That he’d been so close to revenge, only to fail. Hell, he could tell him about [Reset] now that he didn’t have it, tell him about every failure they’d ever encountered.

But what was the point? Some things were better left as a secret. Some things were better left undone. John wasn’t the kind of guy to try and hide the truth, but he didn’t like people suffering just for fun. What was the point?

“You know something,” Destiny said. “Prota froze when we questioned her, then buried her head in her pillow. She’s not good at lying. Without you, she’s an open book. But you’ve got a way with words. Just remember, I’ve got a trick of my own,” he finished.

John froze. His breathing and facial expression were perfectly calm, but he was trapped. What kind of excuse could he give? He didn’t speak for a few minutes. He knew it was suspicious. But Fate would use his lie detector.

“...the demon king showed up.”

“The demon king?” Destiny frowned. “That- they’re not supposed to show up for years, at the very least!”

“Why would I know anything about that?” John shrugged, but he also knew.

This demon king was different. Jinae, a former demon cult leader, had been baffled to find out that Diaboli was a woman. This demon king had John’s memories.

Fate’s knowledge wasn’t going to be helpful here.

“This… hold on, then how did we live? How did we win? Did we ever find out who the spy was?”

“Why don’t you tell me? Come on, surely you were awake for a longer period of time than I was. How would I have even survived anything?”

So far, John hadn’t told a single untruth. Right. Destiny didn’t remember that John had figured out the trick to his power. That it didn’t detect “absolute truths,” only whether the person speaking believed what they said or not.

“I mean, how much more can I say? That’s all I know.”

“...that doesn’t add up, though,” Destiny frowned. It made sense. John was “telling the truth.” But the story still didn’t line up. Why had Prota been so secretive about everything?

“...you know what? Fine. I won’t question it. You are absolutely sure we won? Doctor is dead?”

John nodded. “Yes. I am absolutely sure.”

“Then… that’s all that matters.”

“...we lost a lot of people.”

Destiny’s eyes shot up. “Wow. I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t. Not really. It’s just… a little unfortunate for all the people who have to find out, you know? That their loved ones are gone.”

“You don’t usually care. I thought you were all about efficiency.”

“Yeah… yeah,” John said quietly. “I was.”

“...did something happen?”

John shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. What’s done is done. Honestly you’re a lot less shaken up about it than I thought.”

“I was,” Destiny said bitterly. “But… I’ve had a day to talk about it with Kit. I can’t do anything about it, John. I’ve lost a lot of people. I’ve tried to save them. But at some point, you learn that you can’t save everyone. You just can’t. This isn’t a fairy tale. We can’t just write out a happy ending.”

“Well… you thought other worlds weren’t real until you reincarnated into one, right?”

John let a small smile creep onto his face.

“Maybe… maybe writing out a happy ending isn’t as ridiculous as it sounds.”

“What’s going on with you?” Destiny frowned. “This… are you John? Hey. You’re not a mimic or anything, are you?”

“Are those real? Well, no, I’m not.”

John sighed, turning to look out the window. Without looking back, he spoke.

“Destiny. What now?”

“What?”

“What are you going to do?”

“...save the world, I guess.”

“Have you thought about what happens after that?”

Fate frowned and shook his head. “What?”

“You know, once you save the world. What will you… ah, never mind.”

John leaned back and closed his eyes. “You know? This whole thing… It wasn’t all that bad.”

Fate closed his eyes. He, too, was still recovering, and was soon asleep, dismissing John’s mutterings as some kind of delusion. John slipped down and pulled the blanket over him and Prota, looking at her one last time before rolling her to the side and closing his eyes.

“Yeah. Maybe this [Story] isn’t the worst after all.”

~~~

Prota blinked her eyes open. She’d opened them just a bit too late. John wasn’t up anymore. With John asleep, Prota was once again left with her thoughts. She fell back and closed her eyes, letting the events of the previous two years or so wash over her. She’d gone from a piece of trash in the streets to where she was now. She could still feel the cold rain pelting down on her body, barely covered by thin rags that she scraped together from the trash bins, to here, wrapped in the cloak that’d kept her warm for so long, next to a brother that, despite his flaws, loved her.

She thought back to the fight with Doctor. She hadn’t been of much help, but she’d done something. She’d made a choice. The choice to go back and save John, to die, even if that meant a harder life for her. To sacrifice herself for someone who didn’t need a sacrifice, to suffer for someone stronger than her.

At first, she’d felt terrible. Everything had been messed up. Everyone was dying. But now? She realised that she’d done something. Something had changed within John. His eyes weren’t so empty anymore. Granted, it wasn’t like he was full of life now, but he seemed a little lighter. A little warmer.

And she’d watched him give something up to save someone else. The world of the [Story]. She would never give in. Even if this was fake, it was real enough to her, because her world was where John was. She’d rather live in a dream than wake up and face a reality with no one to be there with her.

She brushed a strand of hair away from her face as she watched John curiously. He was still so strange. She didn’t understand everything about him, although she was slowly getting used to everything he did.

[Good job]

“...?” Prota frowned. This again. It’d been a while. Who was this?

[Getting near that guy woke me up a little, but it’s not enough. But you’ve done it. You’re no longer a little crybaby.]

“Who are you?” Prota said quietly.

[I’m ■■■■■■■■. Oh. Hm. Interesting. I can’t say ■■■■■■■■?]

“...?”

[Anyways. You’ve grown a lot. Be proud of yourself. You’ve come a long way.]

“I… grew?”

[Look at where you started. Look at where you are now. You’re a strong mage, Prota. And I’ll meet you eventually. So just keep going.]

“W-wait!” Prota exclaimed, reaching out, but she couldn’t grab the message. It wasn’t something she could touch. It vanished, leaving no trace behind.

“I… thank you,” Prota whispered. She looked down at her hands and was surprised to find tears dripping into them.

They weren’t tears of guilt or sadness, though—just tears of raw emotion. She’d been through so much—so, so much. And through it all, she didn’t cry. Very rarely did tears come out of her eyes. She thought she’d lost the capability to do so in those streets so long ago.

The little girl in the village turned into the little demon of the streets. A demon unloved by anyone, found by a strange bartender who had no good reason to take care of her. A demon being taken care of by a strange man gave a request, and despite having no good reason to do so, he accepted.

Then the little demon became the man’s little sister, only for the man to die to a real demon. She’d gone to an old lady to learn magic and take revenge, only for the old lady to die to those who were supposed to oppose the demons that’d killed her brother.

And then she’d died.

But somehow, death wasn’t the end. Rather, it was the start of a whole adventure, a new world, and new meanings. [Stories], [Writers], [Readers] and [Characters], the crushing weight of the reality that she and the world she lived in wasn’t real. As if to counterbalance this, she’d received the [Destiny Bond], something that kept her linked to John, her anchor.

But that wasn’t the end. They went on a journey, an adventure, meeting a strange boy and his fox, only for that strange boy to be the hero, accompanied by a Mystic. Somehow, Prota earned the opportunity to be trained by that Mystic, but that wasn’t all the training she needed.

She learned to fight, to kill and be killed, to push forward and keep going. She learned what it meant to protect, to take care of someone who didn’t need protecting. She’d failed, despaired, and then gotten back up, stronger than before. She dropped her fear of abandonment. She learned that she, too, could make her own decisions.

She learned that she mattered, that in order to protect John, she, too, had to do what she wanted, and that John would not abandon her, even if she did that.

So far. She’d come so far. Tears began to pool up, spilling out and soaking the bed. It was a good long while before she was finished. Perhaps her body had been waiting for this moment. A moment where she would finally realize that her emotions mattered.

That she mattered.

Her chest heaving, she got up and wiped her eyes, walking over to the window, staring out at the bright night sky, the full moon hanging overhead in the trees. Such a long way. She’d come such a long way.

The little girl of the streets would not have recognized the girl here.