A Thousand and One Lifetimes

0. The Start of Everything

The night is thick, heavy with a quiet that presses against Eren's ears as he walks through the forest. The only sound comes from his boots crunching the dead leaves beneath him. Above, the trees look like dark guardians, blocking out the starry sky and leaving him in near darkness. His flashlight cuts a narrow path through the darkness. He's been here before. Too many times in too many lifetimes.

Ahead, barely visible in the pale light, stands the tree. The one where it all began. He pauses, his breath misting in the cool air, and takes it in. It looks the same as it always does: gnarled and twisted, roots half-buried, half exposed like skeletal fingers clutching at the earth. But this is more than just a tree. It's the start of everything, the cradle of destruction that shaped his life, that shaped countless lives before his own.

Eren steps forward. He's come here for a purpose, but there's an emptiness in his chest, a hollowness that even his resolve can't fill. No matter the timeline, no matter the choices he makes, the pain is always the same.

When he reaches the tree, he presses his hand against its bark. It's rough, weathered by time, like the lines that have worn themselves into his mind. He moves around the trunk and finds the opening, the small passage that leads deeper into its hollow core. The roots are slick with moisture, and as he steps inside, his foot slips. He tumbles downward, arms flailing, until he hits the ground with a splash. Cold water closes over him, his body submerging in the blackness.

Eren surfaces, gasping. The flashlight floats beside him, still casting a narrow beam across the pool. He chuckles but the sound is bitter in his throat. Of course.

He grabs the flashlight and pushes through the water, feeling the cold seep into his bones. The interior of the tree is vast and cavernous, the roots above curling like monstrous tendrils. The walls are damp, glistening in the faint light, and the air smells of wet earth and something ancient, something almost alive. It feels wrong. It always has.

But this time is different. It has to be.

Eren climbs out of the water, breathing deeply as he stands at the edge of the pool. The light catches the surface of the water, making it shimmer. He wipes his face, blinking away droplets, and gazes into the shadows. What makes this one any different? What will change this time, when it never did before?

He doesn't know, but he has to try.

His bag drops to the floor with a dull thud. The sound echoes briefly, swallowed by the darkness. Eren pulls off his shirt, his fingers working as he sheds his clothes, layer by layer, until the cold air wraps around him. He should be shivering, but he's numb to it all now. Numb to everything. He steps back into the water, the ripples spreading out in slow waves as he wades deeper.

Beneath the surface, the water is dark and murky, but Eren plunges his head under, searching. He moves carefully and the memories blur into one another. But this moment, he knows it too well. The thing he's looking for... the source.

His eyes narrow as he scans the depths, and then he sees it.

The thing.

It's small, barely noticeable, but unmistakable. A centipede-like creature, its body twisting in the water, glowing faintly in the beam of his flashlight. Eren reaches out, his fingers closing around it, and pulls it from the depths. Water streams from its body as it writhes in his grasp, tiny legs twitching.

For a long moment, he just stares at it.

This. This is where it all began. This tiny, insignificant creature is the source of everything: the heartbreak, the death, the suffering. A single organism, tied to a thousand lifetimes of pain. He's held it before. He's let it live, let it run its course through him, through others, shaping history into the nightmare it always becomes. But not this time.

Not again.

Eren walks back to the edge of the pool. He kneels down, placing the organism on the cold, wet stone. It twitches, writhing in its last moments. His jaw tightens as he picks up a rock, its surface rough in his palm.

This time... things will be different.

With one swift motion, he smashes the organism, the rock coming down with a sickening crunch. He hits it again, and again, until it's nothing but fragments, crushed into oblivion. Blood and bits of its body splatter the stone, staining the water at his feet.

Eren stares at the remains, his chest heaving.

"It has to be different," he whispers to the darkness. His voice is raw, trembling with a desperation he can't hide. "This time... it has to be."

The air is still around him, heavy with the weight of what he's done. There's no turning back now.

He stands, taking a deep breath, his fists clenched at his sides.

No more endless cycles of tragedy.

This time, they'll all live.