I have to carry that weight?
The thought alone breaks me.
I curled into a ball, gasping and gagging as the wave of pure, unfiltered positivity crashed over me. That feeling—that unbearable abundance—I don't want it. It's too much. It hurts. It hollows me out instead of filling me.
How can something so full—so radiant—leave me feeling starved?
Who could carry this without breaking?
"I don't want it!" I cry. "I didn't ask for any of this! Who are you to decide my fate?"
My tears won't stop. My chest aches. My anger finally spills over.
The other me moves closer, calm, unbothered. She kneels and lifts my chin gently, forcing me to meet her gaze.
"You can cry," she says lightly, almost amused. "But this is no longer in your control." Her lips curl into a mischievous smile. "Actually—our control."
I clench my jaw. "Then tell me who you are."
She giggles, then straightens, her presence suddenly immense.
"I am Eriu, the Goddess of Abundance of Bestia. I was promised to return—but someone decided to meddle with fate and sealed me away among the weak." Her eyes darken briefly. "I tried to escape. I failed. So I waited—for years—for a vessel strong enough to survive me."
Her gaze locks onto mine.
"That vessel is you."
My stomach twists.
"I don't get a choice?"
"If you didn't, I would've ruled again already," she snaps, irritation flashing. "You delay everything."
Then why stay with me?
"If you want to rule," I say bitterly, "then do it. Leave me alone. Let me go back to my life."
She laughs—sharp and dismissive.
"You still don't understand." She leans closer. "We share one body. One existence. You without me are incomplete. And I without you cease to exist. If you die, I die."
My breath stutters.
"Then let's leave this world," I insist. "Let's go home. I'll take peace over power any day."
She studies me—then sighs.
"You hear them," she says quietly. "Their pleas. Their suffering. Corruption spreads because balance is gone. You know this isn't something you can ignore."
She's right—and that terrifies me.
I'm here because I care. Because I tried to save Talon. Because I couldn't walk away.
But that feeling—that overwhelming abundance—it frightens me more than death.
"If I help you restore this world," I ask carefully, "will you let us go home afterward?"
She smiles, slow and knowing.
"Perhaps. But if you accept me, you must know everything—my power, my limits… and yours."
Myself?
"I know who I am."
She arches a brow. "Do you?"
I swallow hard. "Fine. I want to live. And if that means enduring this… then I will."
She smiles wider.
"Good. Then listen."
She speaks of her origin—of generosity, boundless provision, mercy without condition. She exists to give endlessly. To overflow. To love without restraint.
As she talks, she gestures to the glowing marks etched across my body. She said that the virtues prove my worth and help me unlock the side of me that is her.
"Fertility. Friendship. Compassion. Humility. Self-Worth. Perseverance. Courage."
I flinch. "Self-worth? Perseverance? Courage—when did I earn those?"
"When you lifted the King of Bolivé from despair. When you chose to face death for the King of Avion."
Guilt floods me.
Did I truly help Aron for him… or to escape my loneliness?
And Talon—I didn't even save him.
Do I deserve those marks?
I close my eyes, fists clenched, and let her continue.
"And the marks of the kings," she adds lightly. "Their loyalty is bound to us."
Her tone turns playful.
"The prophecy misunderstood me. Why choose one mate and shatter others? Why not love freely?"
Heat coils in my stomach.
"Stop," I snap. "That's enough."
She laughs. "You felt it too. Don't lie. You like it. That's why we're compatible."
"I have morals," I insist. "Values. Self-control."
"Then make me stop," she challenges. "We must mate for our energy to be replenished. That is the law of nature. Also, we wouldn't have to mate every so often if it weren't for you. "
She points to the flame symbol etched into my skin.
"This—fire—was never meant to exist in Bestia. You brought it. Every time you use it, our energy drains faster."
I freeze.
Fire.
She explains—how abundance fuels it, how unchecked desire makes it rage, how control must come from me alone.
Then she adds quietly, "You can now manifest what you need. Thoughts become matter. Wants become reality. It's a perk of my power of endless possibilities."
I inhale shakily.
"What if we disagree?" I ask. "Who decides? And Vera—who is she? And that feeling—how do I endure it?"
"If I overwhelm you, I take control," she answers. "Vera is envy incarnate. She chases what she cannot be. As for that feeling…" She shrugs. "It is our nature. Endurance is your choice."
She places her hand over my chest.
Our heartbeats sync—faster, louder.
"Now," she whispers, "we are one."
Light erupts around us—blinding, brilliant.
Heat spirals through my veins—power surges, wild and untamed.
My fire ignites—.