Harry's eyes dropped to the floor, his heart pounding with disbelief. Standing before him was his mother—not just a familiar face, but the mother from his other life, the one he lost in the dream that he had tried to convince himself was merely fiction. But how could that be?
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"No, it was not a dream, Harry," his mother said softly, as if she could read his thoughts. "You died in that life... again."
Harry's head spun. He stumbled backward, struggling to understand. If he had died in that life, then why was he here, living in this shell, as if his old life had been nothing but a cruel fantasy?
"But, Mum... you died," he stammered, the words nearly choking him. "Why did you have to die?"
The question sliced through her, and he could see the glisten of tears in her eyes. She moved closer, wrapping her arms around him as if trying to shield him from a truth too painful to bear. Her warmth was both familiar and heartbreaking, and for a moment, it felt as if the world had stopped, holding just the two of them together.
"I had to, Harry. The Fates demanded it. They told me it was the only way..." Her words broke, a fresh wave of pain washing over her.
The Fates. The ones who twisted lives with merciless precision. But for what purpose? And why was he standing here, alive, while she...
He pulled away from her, his face twisted with confusion and hurt. "What are you saying, Mum? I don't... I don't understand." His voice trembled, each word a battle to speak.
"If I hadn't died," she explained gently, "you would have continued living in misery here as Harry, struggling on the streets, barely surviving. You would have wasted away, with nothing left for yourself." Her hand came up, softly touching his cheek, but he recoiled, the bitterness rising within him.
Every nerve in his body screamed against the idea, cold dread chilling his spine as he looked down. This was different from any danger he'd faced as Axel—there, he'd had strength, power, but here he was just Harry, vulnerable, frail.
But then he closed his eyes, summoning the memories that had sustained him. The faces of his friends. Trisha's laughter. Luxiam's warmth. His sister's smile, brimming with hope. The life he'd had, the life he was born to lead, was waiting for him.
All he had to do was take the plunge.
'Goodbye, miserable world,' he thought, a strange calm settling over him. He stepped forward, spreading his arms as if welcoming the descent. The wind tore past him, a brutal rush, the ground growing closer and closer.
'It's okay,' he told himself as his vision blurred, the lights below fading in a final embrace.
Splat!
**Author's note***
The story gets even more complicated. I can't believe Harry chose to die like this, he could have stabbed himself or maybe poison. But he chose to get squashed. Just kidding, thanks for reading.
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