The Academy Gardens were peaceful at twilight.

Fireflies drifted among the hedges.

The scent of night-blooming jasmine hung heavy in the air.

It was a world away from the Adventurer's Guild.

Marcus walked the gravel path.

He checked his pocket watch. He was on time.

He found Iris near the ancient oak tree in the center of the garden.

She wasn't sitting on the bench.

She was perched on a low branch, ten feet in the air.

Her silver hair cascaded down like a waterfall of moonlight.

She was sketching in a notebook.

"Iris," Marcus called softly.

She stopped sketching. She didn't look startled.

She simply closed the book and dropped from the branch.

She landed silently. Not a leaf crunched.

"Marcus," she said. Her voice was musical. "You are late."

"I was detained," Marcus said.

"By the Crimson Viper?" Iris asked.

Marcus sighed. "Does everyone know everything?"

"I smelled ale on your cloak," Iris said simply. "And her perfume."

She walked toward him.

Her violet eyes seemed to glow in the dim light.

"You have been confessing," she stated.

It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Marcus said. "It is your turn."

"I am listening," Iris said.

She sat on the stone bench. She patted the spot next to her.

Marcus sat. He felt the familiar anxiety return.

Iris was different. She was ancient.

Her perspective was alien.

He went through the explanation again.

Earth. Transmigration. The Prophecy.

He told her about the mission she was supposed to have. The seduction of Theo.

He told her about his interference.

Iris listened with her head tilted to the side.

She looked like a bird studying a worm.

When he finished, the garden was silent.

"So," Iris said. "You are a soul from a short-lived world."

"Yes," Marcus said.

"And you have formed attachments to three other females."

"Yes," Marcus said. He braced himself.

He expected confusion. He expected her to not understand the concept of a harem.

Iris let out a long sigh.

She looked... relieved?

"Oh, thank the Stars," she said.

Marcus blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I was so worried," Iris admitted.

She turned to him. Her face was animated.

"I have been reading your human literature. It seemed you only mate in pairs."

She gestured vaguely.

"One male. One female. Until death."

She shuddered slightly.

"It seemed so... limiting."

Marcus stared at her. "Limiting?"

"Marcus," Iris said gently. "I am five hundred years old."

She pointed to herself.

"If I only had one partner for my entire life, I would go mad."

She laughed. It was a sound like wind chimes.

"Elven culture is not like yours. We live too long for exclusivity."

She leaned closer.

"We form webs of connection. Some last a decade. Some last a century."

She smiled.

"We love many. We love freely."

She looked at him with delight.

"To hear that you have chosen a pack... it makes you seem much more sensible."

Marcus felt his jaw drop.

He had worried about morality. About jealousy.

And Iris was relieved because he wasn't boring.

"So... you don't mind?" Marcus asked. "About the others?"

"Seraphina has a strong spirit," Iris noted. "Catarina has a sharp mind. Vivienne has fire."

She nodded approvingly.

"You have chosen excellent stock. It will be a strong clutch."

"Please don't call it a clutch," Marcus muttered.

"Whatever the human term is," Iris dismissed.

"But Marcus..."

Her smile faded.

The relief vanished from her face.

Something ancient and sad replaced it.

She looked away from him. She looked at the oak tree.

"There is a problem," she said softly.

"What is it?" Marcus asked. "If not the others?"

"Time," Iris whispered.

She reached out and touched the rough bark of the tree.

"This tree was a sapling when I was born."

She looked back at him. Her eyes were pools of sorrow.

"You are human, Marcus. Even with your second soul."

She traced the line of his jaw with her finger.

Her touch was cool.

"You will burn bright. And then you will burn out."

She looked at her own hand. It was unblemished. Ageless.

"I will be here," she said. "Long after you are dust."

She pulled her hand away.

"I will watch you grow gray. I will watch you grow weak."

Her voice trembled.

"And then I will have to bury you."

She wrapped her arms around herself.

"And I will have to live for another thousand years with the memory of your voice."

She looked at him with terrified honesty.

"How can I do that?" she asked. "How can I start something that I know will end in such pain?"

The weight of her words settled on Marcus.

It was a tragedy written in biology.

He couldn't fix it. He couldn't promise her forever.

He was a Life Coach. He dealt in reality.

"You are right," Marcus said quietly.

Iris flinched. She expected reassurance. She got truth.

"I will die," Marcus said. "Probably in fifty years. Maybe sixty if I eat my vegetables."

He took her hand. He held it firmly.

"To you, that is a blink of an eye."

"It is a morning," Iris agreed. A tear slid down her cheek.

"So the question is," Marcus said. "Is the morning worth the night?"

Iris looked at him. "What?"

"Would you rather not know me?" Marcus asked.

He leaned in.

"Would you rather spend the next fifty years safe? Alone? Unhurt?"

He squeezed her hand.

"Or would you rather spend them with me?"

Iris stared at him.

"Pain is the price of connection, Iris," Marcus said.

"It hurts because it mattered."

He looked at the fireflies dancing around them.

"They live for a few weeks," Marcus said. "Does that make their light less beautiful?"

Iris looked at the fireflies.

She looked back at Marcus.

She saw the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

She saw the grey hair that would come.

She saw the inevitable end.

But she also saw the warmth in his gaze right now.

"No," she whispered.

"I can't give you eternity," Marcus said. "I can only give you my life."

He smiled sadly.

"It isn't much compared to yours. But it's all I have."

Iris let out a shuddering breath.

She realized something.

For five hundred years, she had watched time pass like a river.

She had never stepped into the water. She was afraid of being swept away.

Marcus was offering her a hand to jump in.

"I don't want to be safe," Iris said.

Her voice was stronger now.

"I have been safe for five centuries. I am bored of safety."

She gripped his hand back. Her strength was surprising.

"I want the morning," she declared.

"Even if it brings the night?" Marcus asked.

"I will treasure every human year," Iris vowed.

She looked at him with intense focus.

"I will memorize every day. Every hour."

She leaned forward. Her face was inches from his.

"I will love you so much that the memory will keep me warm for a millennium."

It was a terrifying promise. It was beautiful.

"Okay," Marcus whispered.

Iris closed the distance. She kissed him.

Her lips were soft.

It wasn't like Vivienne's fiery kiss. Or Catarina's possessive one.

It felt timeless.

It felt like the earth connecting with the sky.

She pulled back slowly.

"You must eat your vegetables," she said seriously.

Marcus laughed. A tear leaked from his own eye.

"I promise. Lots of kale."

Iris smiled. The sadness lingered in her eyes, but it was no longer fear.

It was acceptance.

"Come," she said. She stood up. "The sun is gone."

Marcus stood with her. His knees popped audibly.

"See?" Iris teased. "Decrepitude sets in already."

"It's just stiff joints," Marcus defended. "I'm not dust yet."

"Not yet," Iris agreed.

She looped her arm through his.

It was a possessive gesture. Grounding.

"Do you know that star?" She pointed upward with her free hand.

"The bright one?"

"It is called Ael'drin. The Eye of the Watcher."

"In my world, we called it Venus," Marcus said. "It was named after the goddess of love."

Iris considered this. She tilted her head.

"Appropriate," she decided. "Though Ael'drin was a warrior who died protecting his garden."

"Love and war," Marcus mused. "Usually the same thing."

"Perhaps," Iris said.

They walked out of the garden together.

The gravel crunched softly under their feet.

The human and the elf.

Walking toward a future that was complicated, crowded, and finite.

Marcus looked up at the stars—at Venus, or Ael'drin, or whatever it was now.

He was tired. He was terrified.

But for the first time in two lives, he wasn't lonely.

He had told the truth. And the truth hadn't destroyed him.

It had given him something real to hold onto.

A strange, dangerous, impossible connection.

But it was his.

"Come along, short-life," Iris said, squeezing his arm. "I am hungry."

"For what? Mana crystals?"

"Spicy noodles," she corrected. "I wish to burn my tongue."

"Coming, starlight," Marcus replied.

He walked with her into the dark.

And maybe, just maybe, he was finally ready to be the protagonist of his own story.

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