There was a prohibition on not getting involved with destiny. Even though you already knew for sure what would happen to someone else or yourself, that didn't mean you have a right to intervene and do something. Just to make it would not happen.
To try to change the course of destiny was to invite unbearable pain, a suffering so deep it was likened to dying over and over again for an eternity. This pain was a curse that no healer could mend, no magic could erase.
Thus, all Ansel could do was watch. Watch as the threads of fate wove their tragic tapestry, as lives intertwined and unraveled in ways that were both beautiful and heartbreaking.
***
Ansel's eyes caught sight of a woman dressed entirely in black, her presence striking against the vibrant backdrop of the wedding preparations. She wore sleek black heels that clicked softly on the pavement as she carried a delicate basket filled with pristine white chrysanthemum flowers.
The contrast of the pure white flowers against her dark attire was unsettling, like a shadow creeping into the light.
Ansel's attention sharpened immediately. There was something eerily familiar about her. She was the same woman he had seen in his dreams, the one who haunted his visions of the bloody wedding.
Suspicion curled in his gut like a warning bell. He watched her carefully, noting every subtle movement, every glance she cast around the crowd.
The woman approached the Flower Gates, the grand entrance adorned with blooming blossoms and ribbons.
With deliberate grace, she began to sprinkle the white chrysanthemum petals across the ground. The flowers scattered like a soft, ghostly carpet.
At that exact moment, Ansel felt an urgent pull within him. Without hesitation, he stepped out of the shadows and moved toward the wedding.
His feet brushed against the scattered chrysanthemum petals, and suddenly, a haunting melody filled his ears. A chant that seemed to rise from the very earth beneath him.
"Tears in heaven," the song whispered, echoing through his mind like a mournful refrain. It was the same melody he had heard repeatedly in his visions of the bloody marriage, a sorrowful tune that foretold grief and loss.
As the melody played, Ansel's body froze. His feet rooted to the ground, his posture rigid and unmoving.
The urge to run, to rush forward and witness the unfolding tragedy, burned fiercely inside him. But an invisible force held him back, a silent command that he could not defy.
When the last note of the melody faded into silence, Ansel found himself free to move once more. He stepped forward cautiously, his heart pounding with a mixture of dread and determination.
As he entered the wedding grounds, the scene before him was chaos. Flowers lay trampled and scattered, decorations torn and strewn about.
The joyous celebration had dissolved into a nightmare. People cried out in anguish, their screams piercing the air as they gathered in clusters, desperate to understand the horror that had unfolded.
Despite the turmoil, Ansel's emotions remained locked away, frozen and distant. The pain and panic that gripped the others barely touched him.
His eyes scanned the crowd, searching desperately for the woman in black. The one who had set this dark chain of events into motion.
But she was gone. Vanished into the crowd, leaving behind only the lingering scent of chrysanthemums and the echo of that mournful melody.
Ansel's heart clenched with a cold, bitter certainty. Everything that had happened to Heka. The pain, the torment, the endless suffering was caused by her. If this was true, it meant that Heka had been sacrificed, offered up like a lamb to a cruel altar.
The weight of this revelation pressed down on Ansel's chest, suffocating and relentless. This time, he had uncovered the true source of Heka's scourge.
"No wonder he can't accept Soul Delivery from Lexus. Someone put after Heka's soul." Ansel muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible.
His vision blurred as all he could see was Heka, a broken, vulnerable, sobbing uncontrollably. The rawness of Heka's grief struck Ansel like a physical blow.
Beside him, a woman gently tried to calm him, her hands soft on his trembling shoulders, but Ansel barely registered her presence. His focus was entirely on Heka.
In front of him, his parents spoke with heavy hearts, their voices filled with sorrow and regret. He said solemnly. "The price of Soul Delivery that he must pay is so expensive. He lost his parents. It's so tragic."
Ansel's gaze remained fixed on Heka. His tears carving silent paths down his face.
Despite the flood of emotions around him, Ansel felt a familiar presence beside him, a protective spirit he had come to know well. He guessed it was Hansel, his brother, watching over him as always.
Summoning his strength, Ansel stepped forward toward Heka. But as he approached, the scene before him twisted into a nightmare. The lifeless bodies of Heka's parents lay sprawled on the ground, their forms stained with blood and shattered glass.
The horror of the sight should have shattered Ansel's heart, but his expression remained stoic, unreadable. The coldness that had settled within him now shielded him from outward sorrow.
Heka's tear-filled eyes met Ansel's gaze, and in that moment, he realized Ansel was there. His sobs continued, relentlessly and raw, as he looked up at the changed man before him.
Heka called out, the single word heavy with pain and recognition. His voice was barely a whisper, fragile and broken. "Ansel…".
Without a word, Ansel stretched out his hand. Heka grasped it tightly, summoning the last of his strength to rise. Though weak and trembling, Heka tried to stand tall, to face the unbearable reality.
Ansel said nothing. He simply turned and began to walk away, casting a glance back at Heka, a silent invitation to follow.
Wiping away his tears, Heka steadied his feet. With a heavy heart, he followed Ansel, knowing this was a farewell to the life he once knew, and a step into the uncertain path ahead.