"You say you don't know why you're here. Is it because you truly have no purpose, or is it because you've convinced yourself that running from your fate is enough?"
Vastarael froze. Her question cut deeper than he anticipated, reaching into a part of him he tried to avoid confronting. He blinked, caught off guard, unable to respond immediately.
He didn't have an answer so her Boon didn't have any effect.
Sirithiele stared at him as they sat under a tree, her presence heavy with an authority that belied her status as a Minor Goddess.
"For seventeen years, you've wandered through your life as Vastarael Richinaria, living under the weight of a destiny that terrifies you. A death at the hands of someone you love, someone you trust. And what have you done in those years? You've trained, fought, schemed... all for what? To become a Timeless, to break the chains of mortality and rewrite the stars themselves? That isn't a purpose, Vastarael. That's survival. It's desperation, dressed up as ambition."
His golden eyes flickered with defensiveness, but he said nothing. Sirithiele's gaze bore into him as she continued.
"You call it a mission but it's not even that. It's a response, a reflex, a reaction to a fate you're too afraid to face. You've built your entire life around avoiding it, but you've never stopped to ask yourself what you're living for. All you know is what you're running from."
Her words struck like thunder, reverberating in the deepest corners of his mind. Vastarael's hands clenched into fists at his sides, his body tense as though bracing for another blow. She wasn't done.
"Tell me this. If you weren't fated to die, what would you do? What would your life look like if you weren't so consumed by fear and defiance? Do you even know who you are beyond the chains of your fate?"
Vastarael opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was stunned—no, more than that. He was shaken, rattled to his core. For the first time, he felt the weight of her Truthful Trance not just as a compulsion, but as a mirror, forcing him to confront the reflection of himself that he had always avoided.
"I..." His voice cracked, uncertain. He tried again, but it was as though his thoughts were a storm. "I want to live. I want to... I want to—"
He stopped, his throat tight as a painful realization clawed its way to the surface.
"You want to live, yes," she said gently. "But living isn't the same as existing to defy something. You've spent your entire life trying to escape death, Vastarael, but you've never truly lived. Every step you've taken, every choice you've made, it's all been shaped by fear, not purpose. Even your dream of becoming a Timeless, of transcending the bounds of mortality, is just another way to outrun your fate. But tell me..."
Her voice dropped again.
"When you're free of your fate, if you ever achieve that, what will you do then? What will your existence mean without the fear that drives it?"
Her words struck like a dagger. Vastarael was speechless, his golden eyes wide and unfocused as he tried to process what she was saying.
"I..." He tried again, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know."
The admission left him hollow, his breath catching in his throat. He felt exposed, vulnerable in a way he hadn't experienced in years. Sirithiele's expression softened further, but she didn't let up entirely.
"That's the problem, Vastarael," she said quietly, her tone almost tender now. "You don't know because you've never allowed yourself to look beyond your fear. You're not running toward anything. You're only running away. And until you confront that truth, you'll never find your purpose. You'll just keep chasing shadows, fighting battles that mean nothing, and living a life that feels empty because it's built on nothing but avoidance."
Her words left him speechless. Vastarael stared at her, stunned into silence. He had spent his entire life shaping himself into a weapon, a force meant to defy the inevitable. And yet, in the face of Sirithiele's brutal insight, he realized just how hollow that existence truly was.
For the first time in years, Vastarael didn't have a retort. He didn't have an answer. He was simply... silent, his thoughts a chaotic maelstrom of self-reflection and doubt.
"Stop fighting fate."
Vastarael's golden eyes widened, his breath caught in his throat. The words hung in the air like a spell, pulling him from the depths of his chaotic thoughts.
"You... what?" He stammered, his voice filled with disbelief. He stared at her, searching her serene expression for a hint of jest or malice.
"You're telling me to just... accept it? To give up and die?"
"No, Vastarael. That's not what I'm saying at all. I'm telling you to understand it. All the transmigrators who came before you tried to defy their fates, to become Timeless, and they all failed. Every single one of them died, some even sooner than you might think. Why? Because they resisted. They fought against the very fabric of their existence, treating fate as an enemy rather than a part of themselves."
"So you're saying I should just... let it happen? Embrace my death? Accept that I'm doomed?"
Sirithiele's expression softened, though her eyes never lost their intensity.
"Fate isn't inherently good or bad, Vastarael. It simply is. It's a thread woven into the tapestry of life, and like any thread, it can lead to joy, sorrow, triumph, or despair. Destiny and fate, neither are your enemy. They are your reality."
She paused, her tone shifting to something gentler but no less profound.
"Take me, for example. My destiny as a Minor Goddess is to rule over a lake for eternity. Even if I ascend to the status of a Nexus, my dominion will remain tied to water. A single lake."
She sighed, her voice tinged with a wistful bitterness. "It's not a grand destiny. It's not something I would have chosen for myself. But it's also not a curse. It simply... is. Even though I regret having such a destiny, I don't let it define me."
Vastarael frowned, her words both intriguing and unsettling.
"You're saying your destiny isn't good. But it's not bad either?"
"Exactly. Destiny isn't evil, Vastarael. It doesn't conspire against you. And fate? Fate is balance. It isn't here to crush you or save you. It exists to guide you, to shape your life, to make you... you. The problem is that the others before you saw fate as a prison. They resisted it. They let it define them by opposing it, and in doing so, they became its victims."
"So what? I'm supposed to stop resisting and just... let myself die? You can't tell me that's better."
Sirithiele tilted her head, her expression tinged with faint amusement.
"You're still missing the point. Fate isn't telling you to die. It's not telling you anything. It simply exists. What you do with your life is up to you. But if you spend all your time trying to cheat fate, to avoid the inevitable, then you'll never truly live. You'll exist in fear and defiance, and that's no way to spend the time you've been given."
Her words echoed in his mind, dragging up memories he'd buried long ago. His life on Earth was long, mundane, and full of regrets. The day he died, he thought he had been robbed of time, of opportunity.
But then he had awoken in Spheraphase, given a second chance at life. He had been so consumed by the fear of losing it again that he hadn't stopped to truly appreciate it.
Sirithiele's voice broke through his thoughts.
"You've already died once, haven't you? And yet, here you are, living again. You were given this life for a reason, Vastarael. Not to squander it on fear, but to live. And even if fate does claim you in the end, wouldn't you rather face it with no regrets, knowing you truly lived, instead of wasting your days running from it?"
He stared at her, stunned into silence once more. The truth of her words struck a chord deep within him, one he hadn't realized was there. His entire existence had been defined by his determination to survive, to fight his fate, to become a Timeless and escape death.
But what had that left him with? A life of constant fear, devoid of true purpose.
"So what are you saying?" he asked, his voice quieter now. "That I should just... stop trying to save myself?"
Sirithiele smiled faintly.
"No. Keep fighting. Keep surviving. But don't let that be the only thing that defines you. Don't let your fear of fate blind you to the life you have right now. Fight the Epoch Cycle. Survive it. But when it's over, don't waste your time obsessing over what might happen. Live your life, Vastarael. Truly live it. Find joy, find purpose, find love. And if fate comes for you, meet it not with fear, but with the knowledge that you lived on your terms."
Her words settled over him like a blanket.
"Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely audible. Sirithiele simply nodded, her gaze warm but still knowing. In her eyes, he saw not judgment, but understanding. And for the first time, Vastarael felt truly seen.
"You're welcome. I'm amazed that for a very handsome prince like you, you really think too much."
"Well... it doesn't matter. Oh, want to have some meals from the future? Even though gods and Nexuses don't need food to survive, I do. And... it might be fun."
"If you say so."