The darkness shifted, and suddenly Sage wasn't alone anymore.
He saw them, a small family in a sunlit meadow that felt impossibly warm and peaceful. A young boy, no more than five years old, laughed with pure joy as he ran through the grass. Sage's breath caught in his throat. That child... was him.
But it was a version of himself he'd never known.
The boy ran toward a woman who was smiling, truly smiling, with a radiance Sage had never seen on his mother's face. Her eyes sparkled with happiness, her laughter musical and free. No weight of sorrow, no burden of loss, none of those, it was just pure, uncomplicated joy.
And beside her stood a tall figure. His face was obscured, featureless, but his presence radiated warmth and strength. Large hands rested on the woman's shoulders as he watched his son play, and Sage somehow knew, this was his father.
The young Sage ran into his father's arms, and the man lifted him high into the air, spinning him around while the boy shrieked with delight. His mother clapped her hands, laughing.
"Again, Papa! Again!"
Sage watched from the shadows, his chest tightening painfully. This... this was what he should have had. What was stolen from him before he could even remember.
"It should have been me," he whispered, his fists clenching.
The scene continued to play out before him, a perfect family sharing a perfect moment. Every laugh, every smile, every gentle touch was like a knife twisting in his heart.
"It should have been me!" His voice grew louder, more desperate.
The scene shifted. Now he saw another version of himself, older, stronger, standing protectively in front of his home. His mother was behind him, Hati at her side, both watching with pride.
Then Móði appeared, approaching with that same arrogant smirk.
But this time, this version of Sage didn't freeze. He didn't run. He fought back with devastating power, his fists crackling with energy. Within moments, Móði was on the ground, defeated, humiliated. The alternate Sage stood over him victorious.
His mother rushed forward, wrapping her arms around her son. "You saved us. You were strong enough. I'm so proud of you."
Hati barked happily, tail wagging.
The family embraced, whole and complete, while Móði crawled away in shame.
Sage felt something dark and poisonous rise in his chest. That other version, that stronger, better version, he had everything Sage wanted. He had been strong enough. Fast enough. Good enough.
"That should be me!" Sage screamed, his voice cracking. "THAT SHOULD BE ME!"
The jealousy was consuming him from the inside out. Why did that version get to be the hero? Why did he get to save everyone while Sage had failed so completely?
"IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME! IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME!"
His screams grew more and more desperate until his voice gave out completely, leaving only a raw, silent scream of anguish. The vision shattered around him like breaking glass.
Silence fell.
Then, cutting through the darkness, a laugh. Familiar. Hateful.
"Pathetic as always. Hahahaha."
Sage's blood turned to ice.
"You ran while your mother died. You stood there like a coward while I killed that mangy beast. And when I stood right before you, ready to end your worthless life... you couldn't even look me in the eye."
That voice. Sage knew it too well. It was burned into his memory, imprinted on his soul forever.
"Móði," he growled.
A figure materialized from the darkness—tall, muscular, with that same infuriating smirk that haunted Sage's nightmares.
"Look at you now. Naked, alone, crying in the dark. Is this what you've become? Your mother must be so disappointed... oh wait, she can't be disappointed anymore because she's dead. Because you were too weak to save her."
Sage's hands trembled with rage.
"You know what's funny?" Móði continued, circling him like a predator. "Your father was weak too. Died before he could even see his son become a man. Maybe weakness runs in your blood. Maybe you were always destined to fail everyone who ever depended on you."
"Shut up."
"Your mother probably regretted having you in those final moments. Probably wished she'd had a real son. Someone strong. Someone brave. Not a pathetic little boy who—"
"SHUT UP!"
Red lightning erupted around Sage's body, crackling and snapping with violent energy. Flames burst to life along his arms, dancing up to his shoulders. Wind whipped around him, creating a vortex of raw, uncontrolled power.
"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"
He launched himself at Móði with a scream of pure rage. His fist connected with Móði's face, and the satisfying crunch of breaking bone filled the air. He didn't stop. He hit him again, and again, and again.
Fire spread from his hands onto Móði's body, consuming him. Lightning coursed through him with each strike. The wind amplified every blow.
Móði fell, and Sage kept hitting. Blood splattered across the ground. Bones broke. Flesh tore.
"I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU!"
But then Móði was standing again, unharmed, smirking.
"Is that all you've got?"
Sage roared and attacked again. He killed him. Watched the life leave his eyes. Felt the satisfaction of revenge.
Then another Móði appeared behind him.
Sage spun and killed that one too. Fire and lightning and wind tearing him apart.
Another appeared. And another. And another.
Soon dozens of Móðis surrounded him, all laughing, all mocking.
Sage fought like a demon possessed. His power exploded outward in every direction. He killed them by the handful, immolating them, electrocuting them, tearing them apart with bare hands and raw fury.
But for every one he killed, two more appeared.
"You'll never be strong enough!"
"You'll always be a failure!"
"Your mother died hating you!"
"AHHHHHHHHH!"
Sage's scream was inhuman as he unleashed everything he had. The flames grew hotter, the lightning more violent, the wind more destructive. Bodies fell around him in heaps, but still they kept coming.
He was drowning in them now. Buried under copies of the man he hated most. His power was fading, his body exhausted, but the rage wouldn't let him stop.
He kept fighting. And fighting. And fighting.
"AHHHHH I WILL KILL YOU AND YOUR FAMILY"
Until he couldn't lift his arms anymore.
Then, through the chaos and carnage, a new voice emerged. Soft. Gentle. Almost kind.
"Are you not tired, child?"
The battlefield of bodies began to fade. The Móðis vanished one by one.
"Are you not tired of crying? Of pain? Of being unloved and alone?"
Sage collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath. The rage was still there, but exhaustion was overwhelming it.
"Why do you seek power and vengeance so desperately? What will it truly bring you but more suffering? More pain?"
The voice wrapped around him like a warm blanket, soothing his raw nerves.
"You've fought so hard. You've suffered so much. Don't you deserve rest?"
His breathing began to slow. The flames around his body flickered and dimmed.
"Come... rest now. Let go of your burden. Let go of your anger, your pain, your goals that bring only suffering. Why struggle against the inevitable? Why fight when you could simply... sleep?"
Sage's eyelids grew heavy. His body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
"All your efforts will amount to nothing. You know this in your heart. So why continue? Why not accept peace? Eternal rest... eternal release from all this pain..."
The ground beneath him became soft, almost like a bed. His body began to sink into it, comfortable and warm.
"Sleep, child. Sleep and forget. Forget your mother, forget your vengeance, forget your impossible quest. Just... let... go..."
His eyes began to close. The rage was distant now, muffled. Everything seemed far away and unimportant.
"Yes... that's right. Rest now. Forever..."
Sage's consciousness started to drift away into peaceful, eternal darkness.