"When your current reality is unbearable, why not hop into someone else’s era? Unfortunately, Seilorah learned that time doesn’t always play fair."
Seilorah sat at the edge of her bed, the spellbook resting on her lap like a heavy accusation. Across the room, Yelle paced excitedly, clutching a bundle of herbs and muttering incantations under her breath.
“This is going to be epic,” Yelle said, her eyes alight with mischief. “A little jaunt through time, some peace and quiet—it’s exactly what you need.”
“Are we forgetting the last time your ‘brilliant idea’ involved magic?” Seilorah asked, raising an eyebrow.
“That was a fluke,” Yelle replied, waving a dismissive hand. “This spell is foolproof.”
Zeyro’s voice cut through their conversation like a knife. “What are you two plotting now?”
Seilorah groaned. “Do you have to pop up everywhere?”
“Yes,” he said simply, leaning against the doorway. “Your reckless plans are my business, thanks to this curse.”
Yelle shot him a glare. “Don’t you have some brooding to do somewhere else?”
“Brooding is a full-time job,” Zeyro said with a smirk, “but I always make time for you.”
Ignoring him, Seilorah flipped through the spellbook. The instructions for the time-travel spell were scrawled in shaky handwriting, the kind that didn’t inspire confidence.
“Are you sure this will work?” she asked, her fingers tracing the runes on the page.
“Absolutely,” Yelle said, not meeting her eyes.
Seilorah sighed. “Fine. Let’s do this.”
With Yelle’s guidance, Seilorah arranged the ingredients in a small circle and began chanting the spell. The air around her seemed to hum, a strange energy building as the words left her lips.
“Are you sure this is safe?” Zeyro asked, his voice laced with skepticism.
“No,” Seilorah said, shooting him a look.
“Good to know,” he muttered, stepping back.
The spell’s energy surged, a blinding light enveloping the room. Seilorah felt a strange tug in her chest, as if something was pulling her through a narrow tunnel. Then, everything went black. When she opened her eyes, the world was... different.
Seilorah found herself standing in the middle of a lush meadow, the sun shining overhead. It was beautiful, serene—exactly the kind of escape she’d been hoping for. Until she saw him. A younger Zeyro, maybe fifteen years old, stood a few feet away, practicing sword drills with intense focus. His face was softer, free of the scars and bitterness she was used to.
“Oh, no,” Seilorah muttered.
He turned at the sound of her voice, his eyes narrowing. “Who are you?”
Thinking quickly, she blurted, “Uh, I’m a traveler. Just passing through.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t look like a traveler.”
“And you don’t look like someone who minds their own business,” she shot back.
Young Zeyro smirked, an expression that was both familiar and infuriating. “Fair enough.”
Before she could make a graceful exit, the world around her shifted again. The meadow faded, replaced by a dimly lit castle corridor.
“Great,” she muttered. “More time-hopping fun.”
This time, she found herself face-to-face with Zeyro in his early twenties, clad in regal armor and radiating authority. He was in the middle of giving orders to a group of soldiers, his tone commanding and confident.
“Seilorah?” he said, his eyes narrowing as he noticed her.
“Uh, wrong person,” she said quickly, backing away.
“Stop,” he commanded, and she froze, cursing the curse for its influence.
Zeyro studied her, his gaze sharp. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Trust me, I didn’t want to be here,” she muttered.
He stepped closer, his expression softening slightly. “Are you lost?”
“Something like that,” she said, her tone cautious. Before he could ask more questions, the world shifted again, and she was thrown into another era. This time, the setting was a battlefield. Smoke filled the air, and the clash of swords echoed around her. She stumbled, barely avoiding a stray arrow.
“Fantastic,” she muttered. “What next? A dragon?”
“Seilorah!”
She turned to see Zeyro, older now but still younger than the version she knew, rushing toward her. His face was streaked with dirt, his armor dented and bloodied.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded, grabbing her arm and pulling her behind cover.
“Long story,” she said, panting.
“Make it short,” he replied, peeking out from behind the rubble.
“I’m... time traveling?” she offered weakly.
He gave her a disbelieving look. “You’re terrible at it.”
“Thanks,” she snapped. “Really appreciate the feedback.”
The battle raged on, and Seilorah found herself oddly impressed by Zeyro’s tactical skills. Despite the chaos, he moved with precision, his commands steady and confident. For a moment, she saw him in a new light—not as the infuriating man she was cursed to be connected to, but as someone who had fought and struggled long before their paths crossed. The battlefield dissolved, and Seilorah landed unceremoniously in a grand, ornate chamber. She groaned, rubbing her sore shoulder.
“Where am I now?” she muttered. The answer came in the form of yet another Zeyro, this one seated on a throne, his expression cold and detached.
“Oh, fantastic,” she said under her breath.
He looked up, his eyes narrowing. “Who dares to interrupt?”
Seilorah rolled her eyes. “Really? Are you doing the whole ‘intimidating ruler’ thing? How original!”
His lips twitched, almost like he was suppressing a smile. “What?”
“Not really,” she said. “I’m just very tired.”
Before their conversation could escalate, the spell’s energy surged again, and Seilorah felt the now-familiar tug pulling her back. Seilorah stumbled into the room where Yelle and Zeyro waited, collapsing onto the floor in a heap.
“You’re back!” Yelle said, rushing to help her up. “How was it? Peaceful? Relaxing?”
“Absolutely not,” Seilorah groaned.
Zeyro crossed his arms. “What did you do this time?”
She glared at him. “Don’t start.”
Yelle grinned. “Did you learn anything?”
“Yes,” Seilorah said, her tone flat. “Time travel is overrated.”
Despite her exhaustion, she couldn’t shake the memories of the younger versions of Zeyro she’d encountered. Each one had shown her a different facet of him—his ambition, his strength, his pain. And for the first time, she wondered if there was more to him than the curse that bound them.
"Sometimes, the only way to move forward is to understand the shadows of the past—even if they chase you across time itself."