I stood outside our bedroom door, hand frozen on the doorknob, rehearsing the words I’d say for what felt like the hundredth time. Behind this door was my wife, my partner for twenty-five years, completely unaware that her husband had returned from an apocalyptic future with magical powers.

  How do you even begin that conversation?

  I’d faced down monsters, negotiated with cosmic beings, and turned back time; yet telling my wife the truth terrified me more than any of those things. What if she thought I was insane? What if she couldn’t handle it? What if I lost her again, in a different way?

  I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against the cool wood of the door. I had to do this. I couldn’t carry this burden alone, and of all people, Aurora deserved to know. She was my anchor, my compass. If anyone could understand, it would be her. There was no one else.

  Taking a deep breath, I turned the knob and entered our bedroom. Aurora was sitting cross-legged on our bed in her favorite silk nightgown, reading a novel on her pad. She looked up with a smile that nearly broke me.

  “Hey, you said you needed to talk about something?” she asked, setting her tablet aside.

  I nodded, then closed the door behind me. “What I’m about to tell you is going to sound impossible,” I began, my voice steadier than I felt. “But I need you to hear me out completely before you respond.”

  Her expression grew serious as she noticed my tension. “Alex, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

  Instead of answering immediately, I extended my hand and concentrated. A thin strand of purple light emerged from my fingertips, coiling and dancing in the air between us.

  With her mouth hanging agape as the purple mana thread twirled through the air, Aurora finally spoke.

  “What the actual flying f…!”

  “The other night when you saw me acting oddly,” I interjected before she exploded further. “I had just returned from our future timeline. Our world ended, Aurora, and magic was reborn into the world.”

  I waited, allowing the enormity of my statement to sink in. Aurora sat down heavily on our bed, her fingers tracing the familiar pattern of our comforter as if to anchor herself to something tangible. Her blue eyes never left the thread that danced in the air between us, mesmerized by its impossibility.

  “This is real…” she whispered, not a question but a statement, like she was trying to convince herself.

  “I have two ways I could handle this explanation,” I said, taking a seat beside her but careful not to crowd her space. The mattress dipped under my weight, and she turned to face me.

  My sudden change in tone had her tensing as she prepared herself. The fact that she hadn’t screamed or tried to flee showed how much trust she had in me. Twenty-five years of marriage had built a foundation that even this revelation couldn’t immediately crumble.

  “The first is that I could show you how to get stronger and live this life. We’re due for another catastrophe, an apocalypse really, in about three years’ time,” I said holding up a finger.

  Aurora’s face had gone pale, but her eyes remained clear and focused.

  “However, you’ll see a severe lack of true understanding as to what we face as a species versus those who learn the next way.” I lifted my second finger.

  “The second option is that I can help you experience your old life. I’ll give you your memories from the first timeline, and all the horrors and pain that come with it.” I said with a grave look.

  “This option will give you all the answers and a true fighting start for the apocalypse that’s to come,” I said as my eyes flashed purple unknowingly. “And it will come,”

  Aurora drew in a sharp breath, noticing the change in my eyes. Her hand reached out instinctively, then paused midair, uncertain.

  “Your eyes just... They turned purple.” Her voice trembled slightly.

  I nodded. “It happens sometimes when I channel mana. There’s so much I need to explain.”

  Aurora was frozen in shock, and I chose not to rush her. This was the most important information in the history of human existence, and I had just casually dropped it on her shoulders. No one needed to rush this decision.

  “I’ll tell you the history myself now, and you can take your time in making a decision.” I said, settling back against the headboard.

  “I’d recommend you grab something to snack on, as I believe it’s going to be a long night.”

  She got up and secured her nightie strap, slipped on her comfy slippers, and grabbed a handful of dark chocolate chips from the small bowl on her nightstand. She always kept them there for late-night reading. A habit from before all this madness, from a time when our greatest concerns were college funds and vacation plans.

  As she moved around our bedroom, I noticed her hands were trembling slightly. She was putting on a brave face, but the tension in her shoulders told me she was struggling to process what I’d just revealed.

  While she was in the bathroom, I heard something fall hard on the ground.

  “Sorry!” she cried out. She was jumpy and scared, as she had a right to be.

  Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself. Telling her these things would hurt her, but keeping her in the dark would be worse. Either way, I was inflicting pain on the woman I loved.

  Any other person would probably have a nervous breakdown at the revelation, but not Aurora. Instead, her next words made me lose control of my thread and bowl over laughing.

  “So, you’re a Time Traveler and a Magician?!” She said with a straight face as she returned from the bathroom, her eyes puffy but her posture determined.

  After some time had passed and we settled down, I told her everything. It was cathartic, to say the least, as I had never said it all aloud before.

  I started at the beginning; that dinner in July when The System first appeared. I described the blue notification boxes, the panic, and the classes we chose. Her eyes widened when I told her she’d selected Cleric, committing herself to healing and protection even in a world gone mad.

  I told her about the Fall, how the skies cracked open, and the animals had transformed into monsters; murdering indiscriminately. I described the Killing Fields and the waves of enemies we faced. She listened with rapt attention, occasionally asking questions, but mostly just absorbing.

  The hardest part was telling her about our children. How Xavier had disappeared during a scavenging run, likely killed by a group called the Hyenas. How Nadia had sacrificed herself to save a group of healers, her body broken against a massive oak tree. How Margo had been gored by a Knightmare, her life force burned away from the inside.

  Aurora’s face crumpled when I told her about Maeve, the only one of our children to survive to the end, though survival seemed a cruel word for what she’d endured. The burden she’d carried, the kills she’d made, the person she’d become; I told her of it all.

  When I told her about her own death, Aurora went completely still.

  “How?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

  I closed my eyes, the memory still raw despite the years.

  “You were healing on the front line. Joshua was there; he’d become obsessed with you by then. A powerful fighter but completely unstable. You were trying to reach the wounded, and...” I couldn’t continue, my voice breaking.

  Aurora moved closer, resting her hand on mine. “Tell me.”

  “A wave of creatures broke through our defenses. You were surrounded. I couldn’t reach you in time. Joshua tried to...” I swallowed hard. “He tried to save you, but he had been too focused on showing off, on being the hero. He was careless and you were overwhelmed. I found you afterward, held you in my arms, but you were already gone.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  In relaying the most horrific moments in my life, the pain seemed to lessen. She laughed and she cried. She sat back in absolute shock over the next few hours as I detailed the final battle, the contract I’d made with an unknown entity and my desperate gamble to reset time.

  Not once did she give any indication that she didn’t believe me. I truly don’t think that I would’ve believed her had I heard the story. Such is the trust and power of the woman I loved.

  After I finished recounting the end of time, she grabbed me in a great big hug and held me. For what felt like the billionth time, I let the tears flow while in her arms.

  “So, you even got to be the brooding magician?” She jokingly jabbed at me. “Were you walking around like Batman?”

  I looked into her beautiful blue eyes, and with a straight face said, “I am the Night!” in a deep growling voice.

  She fell back on the bed laughing.

  This is why I loved her. I don’t know what I was thinking tonight was going to be, but this definitely wasn’t it. I welcomed the laughter, as it had been such a rare sound. When you’re used to someone’s voice and you lose them, hearing it means everything.

  “Thank you for taking care of our family,” she said while kissing my forehead. “I know how you worried and protected all those people. Even before the memory restoration, I want you to know that none of this was your fault and you did a great job.” She finished by hugging me tightly.

  Her compassion threatened to undo me completely. How could I deserve this woman? Yet here she was, comforting me when I should be comforting her.

  “I’m ready,” she said resolutely.

  “I thought you chose the first route,” I asked in confusion, “isn’t that why you wanted me to tell you everything?”

  “No, you needed to get that off your chest. Not through mind powers or magic, but by just talking it out. You saved the world Alexander, and no one knows about it. If that doesn’t need an ear, I don’t know what else does.” she said smiling.

  “I’m aware what you’re concerned about, babe. Once I have those memories, I’m effectively gone from this timeline.” she said as I sat up shocked.

  “You need help in this, and as you described earlier, there’s no other way. You need my help to save our children and our world. I know you would’ve done the same for me.”

  I hadn’t expected her to see it so clearly. This Aurora would cease to exist, replaced by a woman who had lived through hell. A woman who had died. I was essentially asking her to commit a kind of suicide, to give up her current self for a hardened, battle-scarred version.

  “Anyway,” said Aurora stretching her arms up, “enough pregaming. Go ahead and use your powers and show me everything that we’ve been through. Don’t worry, I’m prepared.” She said, showing absolute courage.

  She finished with a solid thumbs up, threatening another laughing fit from me.

  I activated my Memory Pocket skill by reflex, bringing a tiny purple bubble into my hand. It pulsed with an eerie light, casting shadows across our bedroom. Within its swirling depths, I could see fragments of memories; Aurora healing wounded survivors, fighting alongside me, holding our children. And then the darker moments; her arguments with Joshua, her grief over our lost children, her final battle in service to mankind.

  I raised it to her forehead close to the hippocampus, where memory is stored. She stared hypnotically at the rippling magic bubble as I ended her peace.

  “No, you’re not prepared,” I said, touching her mind. “But I’ll be here waiting for you when you’re done.”

  The moment our skin connected, the bubble burst. Purple tendrils snaked across her skin, sinking into her temples and spreading like veins beneath her surface. Her eyes widened, then rolled back, exposing only whites.

  Her body went rigid, her back arching as if an electrical current was passing through her. A scream built in her throat but never made it past her lips. Instead, she made a strangled, keening sound that tore at my heart.

  I wanted to pull away, to stop this tortuous process, but it was too late. The memories were flooding into her mind; years of experiences, trauma, joy, and agony all compressed into seconds.

  Her hands clutched at the bedsheets, knuckles white with strain. Tears leaked from beneath her closed eyelids, streaming down her temples and into her hair. Her chest heaved with rapid, shallow breaths.

  Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped. Aurora collapsed back onto the bed, utterly still except for the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

  For a terrifying moment, I thought I’d lost her. Then her eyes snapped open.

  Aurora pushed me aside and fell off the bed with urgency. She pressed tightly against the wall while darting her eyes back and forth, clearly disoriented. Her gaze flitted around the room, not recognizing her surroundings.

  I could see the confusion and fear etched on her face as she tried to reconcile two sets of memories; one of a normal life in a peaceful world, the other of survival in a post-apocalyptic nightmare. Her hands reached for weapons that weren’t there, her body moving with the muscle memory of someone accustomed to fighting for her life.

  “Hey babe, it’s me. It’s alright, you’re home.” I said with tears filling my eyes. “Remember our first date along the beach in Florida. We walked along the shoreline holding hands. Remember the asshole at the pool hall.” I joked with a tearful smile, hoping to ground her with positive memories.

  Her shivering slowed as I came into focus. She stared at me for a few moments without blinking and finally spoke.

  “What’s wrong with my mind? Are we dead?” she asked with a trembling voice. Her Southern accent, usually subtle, had thickened with stress.

  I rushed to her side. “No babe, we’re alive and safe. You’re not crazy, I used an ability to restore your memory.”

  She blinked while comprehending my words. I kept the information flowing with concise verbiage.

  “We won babe, we actually beat the waves.” I said with a smile.

  “I won the highest contribution and was granted the wish. I chose to turn back time to give more of us a chance. I’m sorry, I couldn’t think of any other way.” I said while slumping to the ground myself, the weight of guilt almost crushing me.

  She embraced me tightly and moved my head until I stared directly into her eyes. There was a moment of blank confusion, then a flash of recognition, followed by understanding and finally, acceptance.

  “I’m back?” she said with a bright smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m back!” she jumped for joy and ran into my arms.

  But beneath her excitement, I could see the shadows of trauma lurking. Her embrace was too tight, her movements too jerky, this was a woman readying herself for war again. It didn’t take mind powers to understand her pain.

  After we spent that night together, we decided to get the children up to speed the next night. In the meantime, Aurora spent the next day enjoying the comforts of modern life. Just as I had done when I returned, she made me take her everywhere to experience simple things we had forgotten.

  Just having dinner and walking along a riverbank filled us with such happiness that it couldn’t be described. Yet I noticed how her eyes constantly scanned our surroundings for threats, how she positioned herself between our children and exits, how her hand sometimes strayed to her hip where a weapon should be.

  To their defense, they seemed to see that something was different about their mother. I had warned her about being overly clingy until we sort everything out, but I shouldn’t have worried. They enjoyed the extra attention and absorbed all of her violently strong hugs.

  “I think it’s a good idea if you take the same method with the kids,” Aurora said as we lay in bed that night, her head on my chest, listening to my heartbeat.

  “As much as I would hate to ruin our babies’ lives, you know they’ll make the same choice I did. You have a good plan set in motion, let’s stick to it.”

  “Speaking of your plan, what’s the next step?” she asked, her fingertips tracing patterns on my skin.

  “Everything’s going smoothly. You should be able to quit your job by the end of the month. We’ll take the kids to a home school curriculum and start our preparations in earnest.”

  “How would you like to handle friends?” I asked.

  “Well, most of them died earlier in our timeline.” she noted with a saddened expression.

  “So, we have no real memory to return to any of them. I say, we show them the proof you’ve shown me.”

  “Is it possible to generate a general pocket of information from your memory skill?” she asked.

  “That’s a good idea. One moment.”

  I triggered my calming skill to analyze the ability to see if it were possible. After a moment in my mind of experimentation, I responded.

  “Yes, it is possible.”

  Aurora saw my shift in attitude while squinting an eye but seemed to let it go, for the time being. I knew she’d sensed the change, the emotional withdrawal that came with Spider’s Calm. In the previous timeline, Maeve always hated when I retreated behind that wall, becoming cold and analytical.

  “I’ve also kept an eye on multiple plots of land that we could use for our future base of operations. I’m planning a multi-floored, underground compound. It needs to be sectioned, with ample space, for residential, commercial and private use.” I said with mechanical precision.

  Once Spider’s Calm took hold it was as if a switch flipped, allowing me to catalogue my plans more efficiently.

  I continued.

  “I’ll be reaching out to key individuals to survive after The Fall. Your friend Angela should suffice as a suitable real estate entity that can be trusted with the required anonymity we require.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” asked Aurora with a stern gaze in her eyes. “Something’s wrong, you feel cold now…. different.”

  “Apologies, I activated my skill Spider’s Calm. It removes emotion for a time and allows me to calculate things clearly and factually. It’s what allowed me to survive with the constant emotional toll that our previous timeline pressured upon me.”

  She started to cry and ran to hug me. “Oh Alex,” she whispered, her tears wetting my shirt. “What did they do to you?”

  In that moment, I realized she wasn’t just seeing my Spider’s Calm for the first time, she was seeing what I’d become. The man she’d known had been replaced by someone who could shut off his humanity with a thought. Someone who’d made contracts with cosmic beings, someone who had to kill to live, and someone who manipulated time itself.

  “Thank you, but let’s get back to work.” I stated plainly.

  Taken aback, she nodded. We then finished planning the next night’s conversation with the kids. I’d see her stealing glances toward me for the rest of the evening.

  Even without emotion I knew this was going to be an issue later. That’s ok, however. I’d rather have her angry and alive, than the previous alternative.

  As I lay beside her that night, listening to her even breathing as she slept, I allowed Spider’s Calm to recede. The emotions flooded back: love, fear, guilt, determination; all of it crashing over me like a tidal wave.

  My first ally had returned to me, but at what cost? I’d stolen her peace, her innocence, and replaced it with memories of death and war. Yet I knew I’d needed to. The coming storm would require all of us to be at our best, our most prepared.

  I pulled her sleeping form closer, her warmth a reminder of all I was fighting to protect. In three years, the world will end again.

  But this time, we will be ready.

  This time, we would survive.