Chapter 13: A Thousand Years
1045 Words
"The truth is that your death was my fault."
The words echoed through the archive like a gunshot.
Mira stared at Dante.
For a moment she genuinely thought she had heard him wrong.
The billionaire who had crossed centuries searching for her.
The immortal Guardian who had saved her life again and again.
The man who looked at her as though she were the most important person in existence.
He believed her death was his fault.
The realization sent a chill through her.
"What?"
Dante looked away.
For the first time since she'd met him, he seemed tired.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Anciently.
The exhaustion of a man who had carried the same burden for a thousand years.
"Mira..."
"No."
She shook her head.
"No riddles."
His jaw tightened.
"No half-truths."
Silence.
"No more secrets."
The room became painfully quiet.
Finally, Dante walked toward one of the shelves.
His fingers brushed across an ancient silver box resting among the archives.
The metal was worn with age.
Scratched.
Damaged.
As if it had survived countless wars.
He carefully lifted it.
For a second, something vulnerable appeared in his silver eyes.
"This is all I have left."
Mira frowned.
Dante slowly opened the box.
Inside lay a single silver rose.
Perfectly preserved.
Untouched by time.
The sight made Mira's heart ache for reasons she couldn't explain.
A memory flickered.
Moonlight.
Laughter.
Silver roses blooming beneath a crystal sky.
A promise whispered in the darkness.
Then it vanished.
Dante gently touched one of the petals.
"I gave this to you."
The words were barely audible.
Mira swallowed.
"When?"
"A thousand years ago."
Silence.
The answer should have sounded ridiculous.
Instead it felt strangely natural.
Like a forgotten truth trying to return.
Dante closed the box.
Then he finally began speaking.
"Before the war..."
His voice softened.
"There was peace."
The archive disappeared.
Not literally.
But as he spoke, Mira found herself imagining the world he described.
Silver cities floating among the stars.
Golden kingdoms.
Celestial oceans.
Ancient civilizations.
A universe united beneath one ruler.
Nysera.
"The realms were connected then," Dante continued.
"There were no borders."
"No wars."
"No darkness."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"She made sure of that."
Mira already knew who he meant.
Nysera.
The Queen.
The woman whose face she shared.
The woman she somehow remembered.
Dante's expression darkened.
"Then the Devourer came."
The smile vanished.
Immediately.
The atmosphere changed.
Even the archive seemed colder.
"The creature consumed entire worlds."
His voice hardened.
"Cities disappeared."
"Kingdoms fell."
"Millions died."
Mira listened silently.
A strange pressure grew inside her chest.
As though part of her already knew this story.
Dante looked down.
"We fought for centuries."
The silver box remained in his hands.
"The Seven Guardians."
"The Celestial Armies."
"The Gods themselves."
"We fought and lost."
His words became quieter.
"We lost everything."
A deep sadness settled over the room.
The sadness of memory.
The sadness of regret.
The sadness of survival.
Then Dante whispered,
"And then Nysera made a choice."
The moment he spoke her name, something inside Mira trembled.
A memory.
Hidden.
Buried.
Waiting.
Dante's eyes met hers.
"She sacrificed herself."
The memory exploded.
A battlefield.
Fire.
Blood.
Screams.
Darkness swallowing the stars.
A woman standing at the center of a collapsing universe.
Silver hair.
Golden eyes.
A crown.
Nysera.
Mira gasped.
The vision disappeared instantly.
Dante noticed.
Of course he noticed.
"You're remembering."
The words weren't a question.
Mira stepped backward.
"No."
But even she didn't believe it.
Because fragments continued surfacing.
Bits of conversations.
Pieces of faces.
Broken emotions.
Someone laughing.
Someone crying.
Someone promising to return.
Dante's expression softened.
"The memories will keep coming."
Mira looked away.
Part of her wanted them.
Part of her feared them.
"What happened after she died?"
The question hung between them.
Dante was silent for a long time.
Then he answered.
"I failed."
The confession carried more pain than any wound.
"I was supposed to protect her."
His voice cracked slightly.
The smallest crack.
Yet it revealed a thousand years of suffering.
"I promised."
Mira's heart tightened.
A strange ache spread through her chest.
As though hearing those words hurt both of them.
Dante stared toward the windows.
Toward memories no one else could see.
"When she died..."
His voice became distant.
"I spent the next thousand years searching for her."
The archive suddenly felt smaller.
More intimate.
More personal.
A thousand years.
Empires rising and falling.
Civilizations changing.
Entire generations living and dying.
And throughout all of it...
He searched.
For her.
Mira didn't know what to say.
Because nothing seemed big enough.
Nothing seemed adequate.
A thousand years wasn't devotion.
It wasn't loyalty.
It wasn't even love anymore.
It was something beyond those things.
Something almost impossible.
Dante suddenly smiled.
A sad smile.
"You know the worst part?"
Mira hesitated.
"What?"
His silver eyes met hers.
"I would do it all again."
The words stole her breath.
Because he meant them.
Every lonely year.
Every failed lead.
Every disappointment.
Every century.
He would choose it again.
For her.
The realization terrified her.
And touched something deep inside her heart.
Something ancient.
Something that recognized him.
Something that remembered.
Later that night, long after Dante left the archive, Mira couldn't sleep.
The memories kept returning.
Fragments.
Pieces.
Whispers.
She wandered through the silent halls of Vale Industries until she reached an unfamiliar corridor.
The lights here were dimmer.
Older.
Different.
At the very end stood a black door.
Unlike every other door in the building.
No electronic lock.
No security panel.
No markings.
Just black metal.
Ancient black metal.
A strange feeling settled over her.
Recognition.
The same feeling she'd experienced in the dream city.
The same feeling she'd felt around the silver crown.
The door seemed familiar.
Impossible.
Yet familiar.
Slowly, she reached toward it.
The moment her fingers touched the surface—
Click.
The lock disengaged.
By itself.
Mira froze.
Then the door slowly opened.
A silver light spilled into the hallway.
Cold.
Beautiful.
Ancient.
And from somewhere deep within the hidden room...
A voice whispered her name.
"Mira."
Her heart stopped.
Because the voice wasn't Dante's.
And it wasn't Lucian's.
It belonged to someone she had never met.
Yet somehow knew.
to be continued.......
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