The Wager of Fate
Diane's Perspective
The weight of the abyss clung to Diane long after she had returned to reality.
Even now, as she stood in Ren's study, the visions burned behind her eyes—echoes of a life she refused to believe was real. The cosmic courtroom, the chains binding her, the tribunal's voice accusing her of erasing her own family from existence.
And Tom.
Her son.
Spinning that golden roulette wheel.
The memory of his gaze—so knowing, so distant—sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.
"You're not supposed to be here," he had said.
But what did that mean?
She clenched her fists. No. She couldn't let herself dwell on it now. The abyss was a liar. It fed on doubt.
She had more immediate problems to deal with.
Ren.
The wizard stood across from her, arms crossed, amusement lingering in his gaze. He had let her recover, watching with that infuriating smirk as she gathered herself.
"That little trip of yours must've been enlightening," he mused, cocking his head. "Did you find what you were looking for?"
Diane's lips curled into a sneer. "You tell me, wizard."
Ren chuckled. "Oh, I already know what you saw." He tapped his temple. "The abyss is quite generous to those who know how to listen."
Her breath hitched.
He knows.
Ren took a slow step forward. "The real question is, do you believe it?"
Diane said nothing.
She wanted to dismiss it as a trick, a fabricated illusion meant to unsettle her. But it had felt too real.
Too personal.
Still, she couldn't let Ren see her hesitation.
"Nice try," she said coolly. "But I'm not here for riddles. You wanted me here for a reason. Get to the point."
Ren sighed, rolling his eyes. "You're no fun."
Then, with a flick of his wrist, the study around them shifted.
The bookshelves twisted, their contents rearranging themselves into strange, unreadable symbols. The torches dimmed, casting elongated shadows along the walls. A table materialized between them, covered in a deep violet cloth.
At its center, a stack of cards lay waiting.
Diane's eyes narrowed.
Magic.
"Let's make a wager," Ren said, gesturing toward the cards. "One game. You win, I answer a question—honestly."
Diane folded her arms. "And if you win?"
Ren's smirk widened. "Then I get to show you something. No tricks. No illusions. Just the truth."
Diane didn't trust him.
Not for a second.
But she needed answers.
She needed to know if the abyss had lied.
If Tom—if that wheel—was just another manipulation.
Her pulse quickened.
She had played this game before—bargaining with devils in places where words held as much power as weapons.
And she had won.
Diane sat.
Ren's grin was all teeth as he took the seat opposite her. "Good choice."
He snapped his fingers. The cards shuffled themselves, moving with unnatural precision as they spread across the table.
"Pick one," he said.
Diane reached forward, hesitating only a fraction before selecting a card. She flipped it over.
The image was simple—a wheel, golden, spinning endlessly in an empty void.
She went still.
Ren's expression didn't change, but something shifted in his eyes.
"So," he murmured. "You do believe."
Diane's fingers twitched against the card.
"Tell me," she said, her voice steady, "what is it?"
Ren leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "A tool," he said. "A weapon. A game of chance made manifest."
He tapped the card lightly.
"A roulette wheel that bends the fabric of fate itself."
Diane forced herself to keep her breathing even. "And Tom?"
Ren chuckled. "Oh, that's the real question, isn't it?" He gestured to the table. "Another round?"
Diane's jaw tightened.
The truth was dangling in front of her, just beyond reach.
And she hated that she wanted to know more.
But she wasn't naive.
Ren never played fair.
Her fingers hovered over the deck—then stopped.
"No," she said, standing.
Ren's brows lifted. "Oh? Backing out already?"
Diane met his gaze. "You already gave me my answer."
She flipped the card once more, watching the way the wheel shimmered in the dim light.
If Ren knew what it was—if he recognized it—then it was real.
Somewhere, in some timeline, Tom existed.
And he had that wheel.
Ren smiled, slow and pleased. "Smart girl."
Diane turned on her heel. "This conversation is over."
As she reached for the door, Ren's voice drifted behind her.
"The abyss wasn't lying, you know."
She stopped.
"It never needs to," Ren continued. "It only ever shows what's already there."
Diane didn't turn around.
She forced herself to walk forward.
Out of the room.
Out of the mansion.
And into the cold, biting air of reality.
But as she stepped into the night, she couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted—something irrevocable.
Because for the first time, a terrible, creeping thought had taken root in her mind.
What if it was true?
And worse—
What if she had already forgotten it once before?
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