Painted in Fate

Chapter 17: The Weight of the Past

The air between them was thick with tension. After receiving the cryptic letter from Billy's uncle, the fragile peace between Babe and Billy had begun to crack. Babe could sense that something big was coming—something he wasn't ready for. The fragmented memories had been haunting him for weeks, but now they were crashing in, more intense than ever.

It started with a simple touch. As Billy reached out to comfort Babe, their fingers brushing against each other, a flood of images burst into Babe's mind. It was as if a dam had broken, and suddenly, he wasn't in the present anymore. He was back in the past.

Babe was running—desperate, panicked, searching for something, someone. The scene around him was one of chaos and destruction. His village, his home, was burning. People were screaming, running for their lives. The sky was dark, thick with smoke, and the scent of blood and ash filled the air.

He was searching for Billy.

But as he stumbled through the chaos, he was too late. His family, his clan—the healers—were being slaughtered, one by one, their powers stripped away by some dark force. Babe's heart raced, his breath coming in short, frantic gasps as he tried to make sense of the devastation around him. His powers, the abilities passed down through generations, were useless now. Something had weakened them—something insidious.

And then he saw him.

Billy stood at the edge of the destruction, his face pale, his eyes wide with horror. Babe's heart clenched as he made his way toward him, but something was wrong. Something in Billy's expression made Babe's blood run cold.

"You... you did this," Babe's voice trembled with disbelief. His legs felt weak beneath him, the weight of betrayal pressing down on him like a crushing wave. "How could you?"

Billy's eyes filled with panic, but there was no time for him to respond. Babe collapsed to his knees, the world spinning around him as he clutched his chest, the overwhelming pain of heartbreak mixing with the physical wounds he had sustained. He was dying—there was no doubt about that—but it wasn't the pain of his injuries that hurt the most. It was the betrayal.

Billy moved toward him, but Babe flinched away, unable to bear the sight of the man he had once loved. His heart was breaking all over again, the images of their shared moments flashing before his eyes—moments of laughter, of love, of promises that now felt like lies.

"I... I didn't know," Billy's voice cracked, his hands trembling as he reached for Babe. "I swear I didn't know this would happen. I thought... I thought I was helping you."

But Babe couldn't hear him. The pain was too much. His vision blurred, and darkness crept at the edges of his sight.

For Billy, the flood of memories hit him like a freight train. He was back in the past, standing over Babe's dying body, his hands stained with blood—not his own, but Babe's. His heart was pounding, the weight of the truth crashing down on him. His uncle's plan—the artifact, the manipulation—it had all led to this moment.

"I was trying to help you," Billy's voice echoed in his mind, a desperate plea to the universe to undo what had been done. He had followed his uncle's instructions, believing that the artifact would stabilize the healers' powers. He thought he was saving them. But now, as he knelt beside Babe, his hands trembling, he knew the awful truth.

He had been used.

His uncle's plan had never been about helping Babe's family. It had been about weakening them, leaving them vulnerable to attack. And Billy had played right into his hands.

"No, no, no..." Billy's voice cracked as he held Babe's body, his tears mixing with the blood. "I didn't mean for this to happen. Please, don't leave me. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

But Babe's eyes were already growing dim, his breath shallow. The life was slipping from him, and Billy could feel his soul breaking in two. He had failed him. He had failed to protect the one person who mattered most.

In his final moments, Babe looked up at Billy with eyes filled with both love and pain. "Why... why did you do this?" Babe's voice was faint, barely a whisper. "I trusted you."

Billy choked on his own guilt, unable to find the words. "I didn't know, Babe. I didn't know what my uncle was planning. I thought I was helping you. Please... you have to believe me."

But there was no time. Babe's body grew cold in his arms, the light in his eyes fading away as the last breath escaped his lips.

Billy screamed, the sound of it tearing through the night like a broken melody. He had never known pain like this before. The world around him shattered, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the village, not the destruction—only Babe.

And then everything went dark.

Babe snapped back to the present with a jolt, his heart pounding in his chest. His body shook with the force of the memories, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The pain of his past life, the betrayal, the love—it all came flooding back in vivid, gut-wrenching detail.

Billy, standing across the room, had tears streaming down his face. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his entire body trembling with the weight of the revelation.

"I... I didn't know," Billy's voice was barely audible, choked with emotion. "I thought... I thought I was saving you."

Babe's heart ached, his emotions in turmoil. The pain of his death, the betrayal—it was still so fresh, so raw. And yet, in the back of his mind, he knew the truth. Billy had been manipulated, used as a pawn in his uncle's twisted game. But knowing the truth didn't make the pain any less real.

"I loved you," Babe whispered, his voice shaking. "I trusted you with everything."

Billy's tears flowed freely now, the guilt and shame etched into every line of his face. "I loved you too, Babe. I still do. I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry."

For a long moment, they stood there, the weight of their shared history pressing down on them like a suffocating blanket. The memories of their past lives hung in the air, a constant reminder of the pain and loss they had both endured.

But beneath all the pain, beneath the betrayal and heartbreak, there was still love.

Finally, Babe took a shaky breath and stepped toward Billy. His heart was still heavy, the memories of his past life fresh and painful, but there was something else too—something that had survived the fire of their tragedy.

Hope.

"We have to stop him," Babe said, his voice steadier than he felt. "Your uncle. He's still out there, and he's not going to stop until he gets what he wants."

Billy nodded, wiping the tears from his face. His jaw tightened with resolve. "I won't let him hurt you again. Not this time."

And just like that, the weight of their past didn't feel quite as heavy. They were still carrying it, but now, they were carrying it together.