The Fragments of Us | Levihan |

|{|}| THREE |{|}|

The first thing Eren feels is soft, grainy sand beneath his feet.

He opens his eyes, scanning his surroundings. He is back in the world of Paths. White sand stretches out in all directions as far as his eyes can see. The cosmic green-blue sparkles of the aurora borealis shimmer overhead, the sky speckled with stars. Unlike his last time in the Paths when the Founder Ymir and his half-brother Zeke were with him, he appears to be alone this time.

Eren sighs and sinks to his knees. He scoops up a handful of sand, looking down at the twinkling white grains in his cupped palms—and freezes.

Fresh blood spreads over the fine white powder, staining his hands red. Horrified, Eren opens his fingers and lets the sand drop through the cracks between them. The bloody grains hit the ground—only for him to discover the gore has already corrupted the dunes beyond the horizon. A mountain of corpses by the millions tower over him, a tangled mass of bloody and mangled bodies. The stench of death looms over the desert.

Eren recognises some faces among the remains: Connie, Sasha, Marco, Mina, Thomas, Levi's Squad members, Erwin. One figure in particular lies at the foot of the mountain. Mikasa, submerged in a pool of her own blood, has a fatal wound puncturing her chest. She had broken into the mouth of Eren's Doomsday Titan, blades poised to strike.

Until he struck her first.

"... Eren... why..." she gasps hoarsely, blood bubbling from her lips. Even on the verge of death, her bone-white hand has enough strength to clutch the faded red scarf Eren had wrapped around her all those years ago.

He stares down at his sister wistfully. "I wanted you, Armin, and everyone else to live long lives... but I have to protect Paradis's future generations... Historia... and my child. I won't stop the Rumbling. Not even for you."

Back then, Mikasa had succumbed to her injury before he finished speaking. Now, her grey eyes darken with rapid bloodlust.

"Murderer!" she screams.

Suddenly, an ear-splitting groan echoes throughout the sandhills. Eren looks up. The pile of corpses shudders, seemingly coming alive. Then the avalanche. The bottom of the mountain collapses in on itself, disembodied limbs and torsos spilling out into the sands. The decaying carcasses descend upon Eren in a giant wave, sweeping him along with the current. He cries, kicks, desperately tries to claw his way out, but he's tossed and turned with the wave. His screams are squashed into silence as the dead engulf him—

Eren rinses his face at the marble washbasin, letting the cool water soak his skin. He studies his mottled reflection in the mirror, vacant teal eyes staring back at him. The people of Paradis look upon him as if he were a god; they had rejoiced at his victory, cheered at his coronation, and sang songs of his valour. However, Eren sees neither a hero nor a King.

All he sees is a murderer.

"... Eren? Are you alright?" a voice as clear as spring water lilts. Historia glides across the room to his side, nursing their three month old daughter. Her golden hair shines like silver in the moonlight.

"No," he admits quietly.

"Another nightmare?"

"... Yes."

Historia's hand, pale and soft, cups his cheek, tilting Eren's face towards hers. "It's not your fault. You did what you had to."

"But at what cost?" he says glumly.

"You and I both knew the price we had to pay for the Rumbling. And look." The couple gaze down at the baby in her arms, sleeping peacefully. "Ymir is free now. We all are."