Dv-s: The Skaafin Prize

“I don’t want to bring anyone back,” Venn said, rising. His voice cracked, but it held. “The Prize is not resurrection. It’s a choice of which loss defines me.”

“The Prize,” Vethis purred, stepping through the memory like a ghost, “is the return of one thing you have lost. A person. A moment. A piece of your soul. But to claim it, you must choose which loss you value most. And then you must relive the others.” DV-s The Skaafin Prize

The scene shifted. Now Venn stood in a burning library, a failed rebellion, his comrades’ screams echoing. Then a lover’s face, dissolving into indifference. Then his own reflection, younger and whole, before the DV-s surgery had carved the sigils into his bones. “I don’t want to bring anyone back,” Venn said, rising

He thought of the lover who had left. You don’t let anyone in. It’s a choice of which loss defines me