Fractured self

The rain had thinned by the time Cael reached the final clearing. Not gone — but gentler, as if the storm itself hesitated on. He pushed through the last curtain of wet leaves and stopped, breath locking in his chest.

This place wasn’t ruins.

It was… beautiful.

Stone walls curved into a soft arch, whole and unbroken, their surfaces glowing faintly with etched sigils. Lanterns — real ones, warm and golden — flickered along the walls, throwing shadows that moved like breathing. The floor was smooth, swept clean, laid with carpets that didn’t belong in a ruin at all. A low table stood in the center, carrying a tray of fruit and bread. The air smelled of herbs and faint lavender, not mold.

And at the far side of the chamber, on a bed too soft for this world, lay Lucien.

He wasn’t bound. Not truly. His wrists bore no shackles, his ankles no chains. A blanket covered him, his chest rising and falling in slow rhythm. His hair spread across the pillow, pale against darker fabric, lips parted slightly as if he had simply dozed off. A lamp burned beside him, casting his skin in soft glow.

For a heartbeat, Cael thought he was dreaming.

Lucien looked… peaceful.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

The voice came from the shadows. Familiar. Too familiar.

Cael spun.

And there he was.

Himself.

Older, taller somehow though stooped with weight, hair streaked with grey at the edges. His eyes — gods, those eyes — carried the weight of years Cael hadn’t yet lived. Shadows ran deep beneath them, cracks carved by grief and sleepless nights. His hands shook faintly as they brushed over the back of a chair, though whether from exhaustion or rage, Cael couldn’t tell.

Future Cael. Or maybe fractured Cael.

The older man’s lips curled in a small, tired smile. “You see now why I did it.”

Cael’s chest tightened. “You—” His voice failed. He swallowed, forcing words out. “You made this place. You took him.”

Future Cael’s gaze flicked to the bed. “I gave him peace.”

> [System Notice: Deviation Node Reached.]

[Prime Continuity Integrity — 74%.]

Cael’s fists trembled. “Peace? He’s your prisoner.”

“He’s alive.” Future Cael’s voice cracked like thunder in the calm chamber. He stepped forward, the firelight catching in his eyes. “Do you know how many times I’ve watched him die? Do you?!” 

His hand slammed against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric. “Hundreds. Thousands. Every death burned into me like brands. Fire. Water. Rope. Blades. Every scream, every silence. I rewound until time itself blurred, until I couldn’t remember which version of him I was holding in my arms.”

His voice dropped to a rasp. “I broke. And when I broke, I built this.” He swept an arm toward the chamber. “A place where the story can’t reach him. Where the System can’t drag him to another grave. He breathes. He sleeps. He lives.”

Cael’s stomach turned. “This isn’t life. This is a cage with curtains.”

Future Cael’s eyes sharpened. “Better a cage than a coffin.”

“No.” Cael’s voice tore itself raw. He stepped forward, fists clenched. “Better free, even if it’s short. Better laughing in the sun, better running with us, better fighting and bleeding and choosing — than being trapped in your fragile glass box. Lucien himself—”

Lucien stirred faintly, eyes cracking open. His gaze found Cael, soft and bleary. “…Cael?”

Cael’s breath caught. Relief and pain warred in his chest. He forced a smile, voice gentle. “I’m here.”

Future Cael stepped between them, blocking his sight. “Don’t wake him. He doesn’t need to see this.”

“He deserves to see everything,” Cael snarled.

The older self’s jaw tightened. “Choice is what kills him.”

“Choice is what makes him Lucien.”

> [System Warning: Continuity Conflict Detected.]

[Participants: “Cael (Deviation)” vs. “Cael (Continuity Divergent).”]

Future Cael’s hand curled into a fist. “I’ve sacrificed everything for him. My sanity. My humanity. My soul. If caging him keeps him breathing, then I’ll wear the villain’s mask. Gladly.”

Cael’s throat burned. He wanted to scream, to shake the man until sense cracked through. But this wasn’t some stranger. This was him. Broken. Shattered. A version of himself who had drowned too long in grief.

He forced his voice steady. “Then let me be the version who remembers that love isn’t possession.”

Lucien’s faint whisper cut through, raw and fragile: “…don’t fight…”

Both Caels froze. His eyes barely stayed open, his lips trembling. “Cael… don’t… hurt yourself…”

Tears pricked Cael’s vision. He stepped closer. “Lucien, I swear—I’ll set you free.”

Future Cael shifted, blocking him, eyes burning now with something feral. “You’ll kill him all over again.”

“No,” Cael snapped. His voice shook but his resolve held, steel beneath the tremor. “I’ll let him live. And that’s something you’ve forgotten how to do.”

The runes in the walls flared white-hot, responding to the fracture. The System roared.

> [System Alert: Collapse Threshold Approaching.]

[Deviation Trajectory — 89%.]

[Warning: Duel Protocol Engaged.]

The chamber quaked. Lanterns shivered, shadows tore across the walls.

Future Cael’s blade slid from its sheath, glowing faintly with borrowed System light. His voice was calm now, almost tender, like a teacher correcting a child. “If you want him free, you’ll have to go through me.”

Cael’s hand went to his own blade. Cold bit into his palm, but fire roared in his chest. He lifted his chin, meeting his own weary, broken eyes. “Then so be it. I’d rather fight myself than let you turn him into a ghost while he still breathes.”

The clash was inevitable.

Steel rang. Sparks split the air. Shadows collided with light. Magic bleed...

The System howled in tandem:

[Warning: Irreconcilable Divergence.]

[Combat Node Established.]

[Outcome: Irreversible.]

Every strike was a war of conviction. Future Cael fought with desperation, every move aimed to subdue, to bind, to protect through violence. Current Cael fought with defiance, every blow screaming of freedom, of refusal to cage the one he loved.

Lucien stirred on the bed, weak voice breaking through the storm. “Please… stop…” His hand lifted slightly, trembling, reaching toward the clash he couldn’t reach.

Neither Cael could stop.

Steel rang again. Sparks burst against the floor. The lanterns flickered, the sigils screamed.

At last, blades locked. Both selves pushed, teeth gritted, sweat and rain mixing on their faces. Two voices, one soul split in two.

Future Cael’s voice shook. “When you’ve watched him die a thousand times, you’ll understand. Mercy isn’t letting him go. Mercy is keeping him, no matter the cost.”

Cael’s eyes burned, tears slipping unnoticed down his cheeks. His voice broke but carried like thunder. 

“Then let me be the Cael who refuses to call a cage mercy. Please understand. You're me so you'll understand me better than anyone. Lucien, he...he doesn't want us like this. If we force alive him, he'll vanish...without any traces, his soul will shattered. Even system won't be able to—”

The System flared blinding white.

[System Catastrophe Threshold — 96%.]

[Collapse Imminent.]

Lucien cried out — raw, desperate, his voice cracking through the chamber. “Cael!”

The sound split the air. Both selves faltered. Both turned toward him. His arm stretched, shaking, fingers clawing for them. Tears streamed down his face.

“Don’t—don’t let him fight himself… please…whatever happening please stop..”

The chamber froze. Time itself seemed to hesitate.

Future Cael’s blade trembled. His eyes, once burning with obsession, flickered. He saw Lucien not peaceful, not safe—but weeping. Reaching. Afraid.

Cael’s heart pounded. He tightened his grip, voice hoarse. “See him. Really see him. He doesn’t need a cage. He needs us. Alive. With him. Not locking him away.”

Future Cael’s shoulders sagged, years crashing down. For a heartbeat, his grip loosened. His lips moved soundlessly.

The System screamed louder, light eating at the edges of the chamber.

[Collapse Warning: Fatal Divergence.]

Future Cael’s gaze flicked between Lucien’s tears and his younger self’s eyes. Pain ripped through him, deeper than any wound. His voice was a whisper, strangled. “Then… save him. Better than I ever could.”

The blade dropped from his hand. Light swallowed his form, fragments tearing away like ash in the wind.

His final words lingered as the glow devoured him: “I’ll always be with you… don’t let me become this again. If anything goes wrong—I won't listen no matter what you say again.”

Lucien sobbed into the silence, shoulders shaking, hand falling limp against the blanket.

The System chimed one last time.

[System Recalibration: Divergent Node Removed.]

[Prime Continuity Integrity — Pending.]

Cael staggered forward, dropping to his knees beside the bed. He caught Lucien’s hand, warm but trembling, pressed it to his lips, his own tears breaking free.

“I’m here,” he whispered, voice raw, shaking. “I’m here. And I’ll never cage you. Never.”

Lucien’s eyes fluttered closed, his lips twitching faintly into the ghost of a smile. His fingers tightened weakly around Cael’s.

And as thunder rumbled overhead, Cael swore silently to himself: never again. And I will never be like you future Cael.

•••