Rain mixed with blood.

  Samye coughed violently as he collapsed fully into the mud. His chest burned. His heart stuttered dangerously.

  A faint smile formed on his lips.

  “…It’s done… finally…”

  And then—

  Darkness took him.

  He stood in a quiet white space.

  No rain.

  No fire.

  No pain.

  Just silence.

  In front of him—

  His childhood home.

  The old wooden gate.

  The warmth of evening sunlight.

  And there—

  His father.

  His mother.

  And a small boy.

  Himself.

  Younger. Innocent. Untouched by grief.

  The child looked up at his mother.

  “Mummy… who is that man?”

  The woman glanced at adult Samye.

  Cold.

  Distant.

  “I don’t know him,” she said softly. “Don’t look at him.”

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  Samye froze.

  “No…” he whispered.

  He stepped forward slowly.

  “Mom… it’s me…”

  He raised his trembling hand toward her—

  But she turned away.

  His father followed.

  The younger version of himself looked back once.

  Not angry.

  Not afraid.

  Just… disappointed.

  They walked away together.

  Fading.

  The house dissolved with them.

  Samye’s hand fell slowly.

  Tears rolled down his face.

  “I was trying…” he whispered.

  Then—

  A small figure appeared in front of him.

  His brother.

  Standing quietly.

  He looked up at Samye with those same eyes he remembered in the rain.

  “I thought you were strong, brother.”

  Samye’s breath caught.

  “I tried—”

  But the boy vanished.

  Leaving nothing behind.

  Now—

  There was only empty space.

  Samye stood alone.

  No home.

  No family.

  No voice.

  He slowly lowered himself to the ground.

  Head down.

  Hands limp.

  “I think…” he whispered,

  “…I’m better off this way.”

  Silence answered him.

  “Probably dead by now,” he continued softly. “But why does it matter?”

  He closed his eyes.

  “What remains for me?”

  The space around him darkened.

  And then—

  A voice echoed.

  Low.

  Familiar.

  Mocking.

  “So eager to die?”

  Samye didn’t look up.

  “…Who is it?” he asked quietly.

  A figure stepped forward from the shadows.

  Same height.

  Same face.

  Same eyes.

  But sharper.

  Colder.

  Confident.

  The smile returned.

  Not evil.

  Not kind.

  Just certain.

  “You know who I am.”

  Samye slowly raised his head.

  The figure stood before him — not flickering now, not fading.

  Solid.

  Clear.

  “I am the you,” the figure said calmly,

  “who refused to die.”

  Lightning flickered faintly behind him.

  “You wished for power. You begged for the ability to do things differently.”

  His voice deepened slightly.

  “And when you were about to lose everything…”

  The figure stepped closer.

  “I answered.”

  Samye’s heart trembled.

  “You wanted to protect.”

  “You wanted to never arrive too late again.”

  “You wanted control.”

  The inner self knelt down so they were face to face.

  “And now… you want peace?”

  He tilted his head slightly.

  “Tell me.”

  His eyes sharpened.

  “Who are you without me?”

  Silence.

  Samye couldn’t answer.

  The figure stood again.

  “If you die here,” he continued calmly, “then everything you suffered was meaningless.”

  The white space cracked faintly beneath their feet.

  “And that child outside…”

  He leaned slightly closer.

  “…is he nothing to you?”

  Samye’s eyes widened slightly.

  The image of Kayal’s son flashed through his mind.

  The village.

  The people.

  The battlefield.

  The enemy still alive.

  The inner self extended his hand.

  “So,” he asked quietly—

  “Do you truly want to die?”

  Or—

  “Are you finally ready to live?