Fate Rewritten

Ramses had spent months in the frozen world, growing, learning, and transforming. He had read countless books, worked out until his muscles burned, and meditated for hours to find peace within himself. And yet, despite all the progress, something still weighed him down—something he couldn't quite name. It was as if a shadow loomed over him, unseen but ever-present.

Then, one evening, as he walked through the eerily silent city, he found himself standing before an old, cracked mirror in a forgotten alleyway. He had passed it before, but this time, something about it felt… different. It called to him.

He stepped forward hesitantly and peered into the reflection. It wasn't just him staring back—it was him, but from different points in his life.

First, he saw his younger self, age seven—a small, anxious boy with wide, uncertain eyes. The child looked up at him, hesitant, as if expecting punishment.

"You left me behind," the boy said softly.

Ramses felt a lump in his throat. "What do you mean?"

The boy frowned, gripping his arms tightly as if trying to make himself disappear. "You grew up and forgot about me. You buried me under all the things you wanted to be. But I'm still here. Still scared. Still waiting."

Memories surfaced like waves crashing against a shore. The teasing at school, the moments he sat alone in the corner of the playground, too nervous to join the other kids. The way he would come home, desperate for his father's approval, only to be met with indifference or silence. The pain of never feeling enough.

"I didn't forget you," Ramses whispered. "I just… I had to move on."

The boy's eyes welled with tears. "Then why do I still hurt?"

Ramses clenched his fists. He had spent years trying to be stronger, to become a version of himself that no longer felt like that scared little kid. But the truth was, no matter how much he changed, a part of him was still trapped there.

The reflection rippled, shifting. The child disappeared, and in his place stood his teenage self, age sixteen—angry, defiant, eyes filled with resentment.

"You think you're better now?" the teenager scoffed. "That just because you've been working out, reading books, and trying to 'fix yourself,' everything's fine?"

Ramses tensed. "I'm trying to be better. I am better."

The teenager smirked. "Really? Because I remember the nights you cried yourself to sleep, hating yourself. I remember how you let people walk all over you because you were too afraid to stand up for yourself." He stepped closer, his gaze piercing. "And I remember the moment you gave up."

Ramses' breath hitched.

"The moment you decided," his teenage self continued, voice thick with bitterness, "that life was too hard. That you weren't meant for happiness. That people like you… don't get happy endings."

The air felt heavy, pressing against Ramses' chest. He remembered that night all too well. The night he had sat alone in his room, drowning in thoughts of self-loathing, feeling like he had no future. The night he had stared at his reflection, just like now, wondering if things would ever get better.

The teenager's voice softened, but it wasn't kind. It was cold, hollow. "You think this frozen world is your second chance? Maybe it's just proof that you were never meant to be part of the real one."

Ramses' hands trembled. The doubt crept in, just like it always had. The voice in his head, whispering that no matter what he did, he would always be the same scared, broken person.

But then—

"No."

The word came out firmer than he expected. He looked his teenage self in the eyes and repeated it. "No. You're wrong."

The reflection sneered. "Am I?"

"Yes." Ramses' voice didn't waver this time. "I remember those nights. I remember wanting to give up. But I didn't." He stepped closer, his reflection staring back at him with defiance. "I made a choice to keep going. Even when it hurt. Even when I didn't think I could. And I will not let that version of me win."

For the first time, the teenager's expression flickered—not with anger, but with something else. Uncertainty.

The reflection shifted again.

Now, Ramses saw himself as he was now—but not the version he wanted to be. This Ramses was exhausted, worn down, standing with slumped shoulders and lifeless eyes.

"I'm tired," the reflection admitted. "I've done everything I can. But I still feel empty."

Ramses swallowed hard. He had worked so hard to change, yet there were moments where he still felt… lost. Alone. Like no matter how much he grew, he would never truly escape his past.

He reached out a hand, almost touching the glass. "You're not alone."

His reflection looked at him, searching.

"I don't have all the answers," Ramses admitted. "But I know this—change isn't about erasing who we used to be. It's about accepting ourselves. Even the parts that hurt. Even the parts that we want to forget."

His reflection took a deep breath. The exhaustion in his eyes didn't vanish, but something changed.

Acceptance.

A crack formed in the mirror. Then another. And another.

The world around him seemed to shake as the reflection shattered, pieces scattering into nothingness.

Ramses stepped back, breathing heavily. He felt… lighter. Not because the pain was gone, but because he had finally faced it. Acknowledged it. And, for the first time, forgiven himself.

As he turned away from the broken mirror, he realized something.

The frozen world might still be here. But he wasn't trapped in his past anymore.

He was moving forward.