The air in the room seemed heavy with an unseen fog, the kind that weighed on Ame’s shoulders and clung to her every thought. Her watch ticked faintly in the silence, though its sound carried the finality of a tolling bell. Her pale hands rested on her knees, the fingertips trembling—not from fear, but from exhaustion borne of eternity. The small table lamp cast a faint glow over the scattered papers strewn across the floor, forming a tapestry of desperate calculation. Diagrams spiraled into madness, jagged lines crossed out one after another, fragments of ancient text overlaying timelines already shattered.

Ame’s red-rimmed eyes stared down at her wrist. The Timewatch gleamed faintly, reflecting the haggard face of the detective it cursed. She swallowed hard, the knowledge of countless failures suffocating her. She had tried everything—a thousand times, perhaps more. Loops within loops, rewound conversations, choices threaded and rewoven until the fabric of reality had begun to fray. Yet all roads ended the same. Ina… gentle, serene Ina… was destined to die, her lifeblood the ink that would seal the Eternal away.

Her resolve to fight fate was both her strength and her curse. Ame’s life had been a war waged against inevitability, her stubborn defiance pushing her to impossible heights—and impossible lows. It was this quality, the fiery insistence to carve her own path, that had drawn Ina to her in the first place. For Ina, whose very essence resonated with the tides of destiny, the futility of resistance was as natural as breathing. Her calm acceptance of the world’s flow provided a quiet counterbalance to Ame’s chaotic determination.

“It’s not supposed to be this way,” Ame whispered to the room. “I can still change it… can’t I?”

A hesitant knock rattled the door, soft and yet as jarring as thunder in her anguished solitude. Ame tensed, and when it opened, she did not have to look. She already knew the moment by heart.

Ina stepped into the room like a shadow made flesh, her movements fluid yet deliberate. Dark tendrils swayed lazily beneath her cloak—a reminder of her eldritch nature. Those impossibly deep eyes scanned the room, unearthing every failed plan and discarded hope littering the space. Her expression carried its characteristic serenity, though there was an undercurrent of quiet sorrow to it. Ina understood the burden Ame carried, yet she also knew it was not hers to ease.

“Ame,” Ina murmured. Her voice was soft but resonated with a depth that made the air itself tremble. It was both a comfort and a warning, like the calm before a storm.

Ame didn’t move, though her body stiffened slightly. She already knew the words Ina would say next—knew them like an unwelcome melody etched into her mind.

“You’re carrying too much alone,” Ina began, taking another step into the room.

“I know,” Ame interrupted, her tone flat, weary. She didn’t look up. “But you’re going to tell me that doesn’t mean I can’t stop trying.”

Her fingers twitched involuntarily as though clinging to an illusion she feared was slipping away. It wasn’t the words Ina would say next that shocked her—it was the weight, the slow drift of inevitability in the way Ina moved. The space between them felt too long, too quiet, but it was the kind of silence that came before the tipping point, the kind that one couldn’t escape even if they tried to run.

Ina knelt beside her. Her presence didn’t force Ame to look up, yet something in the subtle change of energy, the way Ina’s eyes softened slightly, allowed Ame to hear the unsaid beneath her words.

"You’ve lived this before," Ina said, too softly to echo a question, yet with an unspoken gravity to it that made Ame’s blood run cold.

Ame’s throat tightened. She closed her eyes, but she could still feel it—the years unfolding, the agony that followed her every attempt to change, to untangle this endless mess. She didn't need to hear it, but she did. And her heart clenched for the thousandth time. "Every time," Ame muttered, her voice as sharp as shards.

Ina’s serene expression faltered for just a moment, replaced by a glimmer of something deeper—sorrow, perhaps. She knelt beside Ame, her dark eyes searching her partner’s face. “Why do you keep putting yourself through this?” she asked softly.

Ame’s laugh was bitter, mirthless. She finally met Ina’s gaze, her eyes red and tired. “Because I have to. Because it’s you. How can I not? I can’t just… accept it. I’m not like you, Ina. I’ll never be like you.”

Ina reached out, her fingertips brushing against Ame’s trembling hand, but Ame jerked away instinctively, cradling the watch to her chest. “You always fight,” Ina said, her voice calm, soothing. “It’s what makes you who you are.”

“And you never fight anything,” Ame shot back, her tone rising as anger bubbled through her despair. “You just sit there, all calm and quiet, acting like none of it matters. But it does, Ina! It matters!”

Ina’s silence was deafening. She watched Ame carefully, her passive nature masking the storm beneath her calm exterior. After a long pause, she said, “Perhaps you’re right. But tell me this, Ame—how many times have we had this argument?”

Ame stilled, her fingers clenching the watch so tightly her knuckles turned white. She said nothing, her silence confirming Ina’s suspicion.

Ina’s gaze grew sharper, her voice trembling slightly. “You know everything I’m going to say, don’t you? All of it. How many times have you replayed this moment?”

Ame turned away, her shoulders slumping. “Too many,” she whispered.

“Because I can’t let you die!” Ame cried, the words bursting out before she could stop them. Her body shook as sobs wracked her chest. “You don’t understand, Ina. If I stop… if I don’t keep trying… it’ll mean I gave up on you.”

Ina’s eyes softened, and for the first time, her serene expression wavered. The quiet acceptance that had always defined her began to give way to something raw, something deeply human. She looked at Ame, truly looked at her, and saw not the fiery determination she loved, but a hollow shell trapped in an endless loop.

Ina’s tendrils brushed against the watch. Her movements were slow, deliberate, as she asked, “What if the problem isn’t what you’re doing, Ame? What if it’s the watch itself?”

“Don’t,” Ame snapped, clutching the device tighter. “You wouldn’t understand…”

And in that instant, realization struck Ina like a lightning bolt. Ame’s suffering, her mechanical reactions, her foreknowledge of every word and gesture—it all stemmed from this cursed device. Her movements had become scripted, her anguish numbed by its repetition. This conversation was a rut, worn deep into their lives.

For the first time, Ina’s calm nature cracked. She acted without her usual deliberation, lunging forward. Her hand shot out, gripping Ame’s wrist with an unnatural strength, and tore the watch free. The metallic clatter as it hit the floor echoed like a gunshot in the still room.

Ame gasped, her eyes wide with raw, unfiltered shock. For the first time in countless loops, she hadn’t anticipated this. “Ina… what are you doing?!” she exclaimed, scrambling to retrieve the watch.

Ina’s tentacles coiled tightly around her, holding her back. Tears glistened in Ina’s eyes as she spoke, her voice trembling. “You didn’t see this coming, did you?” she whispered. “This… this is real, Ame. It’s not just another loop.”

Ame’s struggles ceased, her chest heaving as her gaze darted between Ina and the discarded watch. “Why would you…”

Ina held her closer, brushing tears from Ame’s face with a gentle hand. “Because I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore. I can’t let you keep breaking yourself just to fight what you can’t change.”

Ame sobbed, her fists weakly pounding against Ina’s chest. “I was trying to save you,” she choked out.

Ina smiled sadly, resting her forehead against Ame’s. “I know. But some things aren’t meant to be saved, Ame. Some things… some things are meant to end.”

The silence between them stretched, heavy and suffocating. Ame’s trembling subsided as she stared at Ina, her expression shifting between confusion, betrayal, and something deeper—resignation. The Timewatch lay on the floor between them, its faint glow flickering like a dying ember. For the first time in countless loops, Ame felt unmoored, drifting in the raw uncertainty of a moment she hadn’t foreseen.

“Ina,” Ame whispered, her voice hoarse. “What are you saying?”

Ina’s tendrils tightened around her as if shielding her from the weight of her own question. The sorrow in Ina’s eyes deepened, their impossible depths reflecting Ame’s fractured soul. “I’m saying that you’ve done enough,” Ina murmured. “You’ve fought harder than anyone ever should, but this… this is where it ends.”

Ame shook her head violently, her hands gripping Ina’s arms. “No. You don’t get to decide that. I’ve come too far. I can still fix this. I just need more time, another opportunity.”

“Time?” Ina’s voice broke, trembling with an emotion she rarely allowed herself to show. “Don’t you see, Ame? Time is the prison you’ve locked yourself in. You’ve sacrificed everything—your mind, your soul—just to keep fighting a battle that’s already lost.”

“It’s not lost!” Ame’s voice cracked, raw and desperate. “I can save you, Ina. I can save both of us. I just need—”

“You need to let go,” Ina interrupted, her tone firm yet achingly tender. She cupped Ame’s face, forcing her to meet her gaze. “You’re not saving me. You’re only breaking yourself. And I can’t bear to see you like this anymore.”

Ame’s tears flowed freely now, her chest heaving with uneven breaths. She clung to Ina as though letting go would mean losing everything. “I can’t… I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” Ina said softly, her voice a soothing balm against Ame’s raw anguish. “Not really. I’ll always be with you, Ame. In every moment, every memory. But this—” She gestured to the scattered plans, the glowing Timewatch, the chaos that had consumed Ame’s life. “This isn’t living. It’s surviving. And it’s killing you.”

Ame’s lips quivered, but she didn’t argue. She couldn’t. Deep down, she knew Ina was right. She had felt it in the hollow ache of every loop, in the way her victories rang hollow and her defeats carved deeper scars. She had been running on borrowed time, and now that time was up.

Ina pulled her closer, their foreheads touching. The moment was unbearably intimate, a fragile oasis in a desert of despair. “I love you, Ame,” Ina whispered, her voice breaking. “And because I love you, I have to do this.”

Ame’s eyes widened, realization dawning too late. “No—”

The tendrils that had once caressed her so gently now surged forward, wrapping around her body like iron chains. Ame gasped, struggling weakly against their unyielding grip. Ina’s tears fell freely now, her calm facade shattering as she held Ame close, her touch both tender and firm.

“I’m sorry,” Ina choked out. “I’m so sorry.”

A sudden, sharp pain pierced Ame’s chest, and she gasped, her breath hitching as her body went rigid. Ina’s tendrils had found her heart, their eldritch power severing the fragile threads that bound her to life. Ame’s struggles ceased, her body going limp in Ina’s arms.

Ina held her tightly, her tears falling onto Ame’s lifeless face. The room was silent save for the faint hum of the Timewatch, its glow dimming as though mourning the loss of its master.

Ina looked down at the device, her sorrow deepening into resolve. She reached out, her hand trembling, and crushed the Timewatch beneath her grip. The glow vanished, and with it, the endless loops that had tormented Ame.

The air grew still, heavy with finality. Ina knelt there for what felt like an eternity, cradling Ame’s lifeless body. Her own strength was fading, the strain of her actions taking its toll. But she didn’t care. Her purpose was fulfilled, and her own end was a small price to pay for freeing the one she loved.

As the room darkened, Ina closed her eyes, a faint smile gracing her lips. “You’re free now, Ame,” she whispered. “Wait for me… wherever you are.”

Ame had fought until the end, refusing to let go of the belief that there was another way—a way to save both Ina and the world. But the wounds she bore, both from the eldritch forces and from the countless loops of despair, had finally caught up with her. Her time had run out.

Ina knelt beside her, brushing a strand of blonde hair from Ame’s pale face. “You gave everything,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a grief she could no longer suppress. “Even when I begged you to stop, you never did. You were the only one who believed in me, even when I stopped believing in myself.”

The room shifted, shadows lengthening as the portal at the far end pulsed with a sickly light. It called to Ina, a silent demand that could no longer be ignored. She turned to face it, her tendrils twitching as if sensing the inevitability of what lay ahead.

“I guess this is it,” she murmured, her gaze lingering on Ame one last time. She placed her hand over Ame’s, gripping the shattered watch for a moment before gently setting it down.

Ina rose to her feet, her silhouette framed by the otherworldly glow of the portal. She could feel the weight of the universe pressing down on her, the whispers of the Ancient Ones growing louder with each step she took toward the rift. They hungered for her return, for the piece of themselves she had stolen when she chose to resist.

As she reached the edge, the light grew blinding, the tendrils of energy lashing out like the arms of a waiting predator. Ina hesitated, her mind racing with fragments of memories—of laughter, of tears, of Ame’s stubborn smile and the countless sacrifices she had made to bring them to this moment.

Ina exhaled, her voice barely audible over the cacophony. “You always said there was a choice, Ame. I hope you were right.”

She stepped forward, the light swallowing her whole.

The chamber fell silent once more, the portal flickering weakly before collapsing in on itself. Nothing remained but the empty room, the shattered watch, and the lingering question of whether Ina’s sacrifice would bring salvation—or unleash a darkness far greater than the one she had sought to end.