This will be detailed arc, showing Arthur and Katie's life, and the lead up to this moment. I want to do a proper character building since this is single romance. Had to get creative with it. Enjoy!

  Try listening to Yutaka Yamada's - "Remembering" while you read this. It hits right in the kokoro.

  *****

  Kokabiel's POV

  I paused mid-step, my body freezing before my mind could even process why.

  "Hello... Arthur."

  The voice was soft. Broken. Desperate in a way that made me uncomforgtable.

  I turned around slowly, keeping my expression neutral. A beautiful woman stood there in the middle of the Tingen street, completely invisible to the mortals passing by. They walked around her, avoiding her unconsciously. Their survival instincts recognizing something divine even if their conscious minds couldn't process it. It gave the clear distinction that she was anything but mortal.

  "You must be mistaking me for someone else, Ms. Evernight Goddess," I said calmly, offering a polite smile. "I am not who you are thinking."

  She looked different from what I knew of this world's gods. The Evernight Goddess was supposed to be mysterious, cold, shrouded in darkness and secrets.

  The woman before me wore an elegant medieval noblewoman's gown instead of her characteristic dark robes. Simple black velvet, but the stars woven into the fabric made it look impossibly majestic. Her white hair flowed freely, arranged in intricate braids with a small tiara of crystallized darkness resting atop her head. A single diamond shone brightly in the centre, a stark contrast to the darkness.

  But it was her eyes that caught me.

  Deep golden pupils that shone with something I didn't expect, hope. Raw, desperate hope mixed with uncertainty. And tears. Silent tears streamed down her face even as she smiled.

  Why was a goddess crying while smiling like that? It was as if she was at a loss, maybe sad even. My mind was still unable understand such conflicting emotions properly after all this time.

  Amanises closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again after wiping her tears. "No, I did not make a mistake." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I can feel it. It's you. It's always been you."

  She took several steps forward until our faces were inches apart.

  I tried to step back instinctively. Maintaining distance was always the smart move, but my body refused to obey. My feet stayed planted exactly where they were.

  Huh. That never happens. I'm an Outer God. My will is absolute when it comes to my own movements. Yet here I was, frozen by something I couldn't identify.

  She raised her hand slowly, trembling as it moved toward my face.

  I tilted my head back slightly. "That's not a good idea. You will get hurt..."

  Her fingers touched my cheek before I could finish the sentence.

  The reaction was immediate and violent. Her finger began to fade, the flesh dissolving as my existence tried to erase hers. Being an Outer God meant my very presence was corrosive to reality itself. Physical contact with beings of lower dimensional authority caused them to unravel at a fundamental level.

  I sighed and started to turn away. "See? This is why—"

  "You are so beautiful and perfect... just like I remember."

  I stopped. Actually stopped and looked at her.

  Her hand was being destroyed and reconstructed in a continuous loop. Flesh and bones dissolving, then reforming, then dissolving again. The pain should have been excruciating, like having your hand slowly ground into nothing, only to have it grow back so the process could repeat. Over and over and over.

  But she was smiling.

  Not grimacing. Not screaming. Smiling through the tears like this was the happiest moment of her existence.

  Why?

  I stood there, genuinely stunned, a state I hadn't experienced ever. Her hand remained on my cheek despite being constantly unmade and remade. I could feel the warmth of it. Humanlike warmth, as if we were just another couple in the crowd instead of an Outer God and a True God standing in a street in Tingen.

  "Your hand..." I started to speak.

  "I don't care," she said softly, her smile widening. "This is the first time I've touched you in thousands of years, maybe even more. A little pain is nothing."

  I knew who she was, of course. Amanises, the Evernight Goddess. She'd been the first deity to reach out after I ascended and became an Outer God. I'd felt her trying to peer into the 23rd pathway, The Eternal Night, with an intensity that bordered on obsession.

  I'd ignored her like I ignored everyone else. Assumed she wanted power or forbidden knowledge like the rest. She'd kept trying to contact me anyway, never taking the hint.

  I'd thought she was just another ambitious deity seeking to grasp what she couldn't understand.

  But now she stood before me, smiling while her hand was destroyed over and over, calling me by a name I didn't recognize but that resonated somewhere deep in whatever passed for my soul.

  I shook my head and took a step back, forcefully pulling my power inward and compressing it to my DxD world limits. Her hand stopped dissolving immediately, though it looked raw and new, like freshly healed skin.

  "I apologize for hurting you," I said, turning to leave. "I don't know what you want or who you think I am, but I suggest you go back to your realm. I have business to attend to."

  I took two steps forward, intending to find Klein and bid him farewell before returning home. Gabriel was waiting for me. I'd promised to be back within a year.

  A pair of arms wrapped around me from behind.

  I actually flinched. The sensation was so unexpected, so foreign, that for a moment I couldn't process it. When was the last time someone had hugged me? Had anyone ever hugged me in this existence?

  "Please..." Her voice was muffled against my back. "Don't leave me again."

  I stood there stiffly, arms at my sides, completely unsure how to respond. My emotions; the vague, muted things they were, felt like they were short-circuiting. Confusion. Discomfort. And something else I couldn't name.

  I've been in similar situations before. Beings throwing themselves at me for various reasons—power, knowledge, desperation, manipulation. Other than Penemue who was just perverted yet showed genuine care, but she is an angel. And Athena, who was attracted to my wisdom.

  I always extracted myself easily from these situations. Made a joke, said something dismissive, and left.

  But this felt different.

  Her embrace tightened slightly, not possessive or demanding, just... holding on. Like I was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

  I had a sudden, inexplicable urge to return the embrace.

  The thought made me recoil internally. I'm not human. I'm not even an angel anymore. I don't feel attraction based on appearance or physical intimacy. So why did my body refuse to simply phase away? Why was I standing here like an idiot instead of leaving?

  "You don't remember me at all, do you?" Her voice cracked slightly, and I felt her fingers clench into the fabric of my coat.

  I kept my tone casual, though I was anything but. "I don't recall ever meeting you. Although my memory is somewhat hazy regarding my past, I would have remembered something like this. My apologies."

  She went completely still against my back. Then I felt it, wetness seeping through my coat. She was crying harder now, her body trembling with silent sobs.

  I didn't like this feeling. Whatever this was, it was not logical. Uncomfortable.

  I'm not built for emotional connections, especially not ones I don't understand. I've regained some of my emotions over time, enough to connect with my siblings in Heaven, enough to care about Klein and the others.

  But this was different. This was visceral in a way I couldn't explain.

  Why did I feel compassion for a complete stranger? Why did every word she spoke feel genuine and sincere rather than manipulative? Why did some part of me, some deep, buried part I didn't know existed, wish to comfort her?

  I heard footsteps and looked up to see Klein walking toward us down the street. He must have recovered after saying his goodbyes to his siblings.

  He stopped dead in his track when he saw us, eyes widening at the sight of me standing awkwardly with the Evernight Goddess wrapped around me from behind. Not that he realized it was her. Nobody saw her true self in this world.

  Klein cleared his throat, a small smile tugging at his lips despite his somber mood. "Uh... I should give you guys some privacy. I'll wait at the station after you're done with... your admirer."

  He turned and walked away, deliberately not looking back.

  "Klein, wait—" I tried to explain, but he was already gone, disappearing around a corner with suspicious speed.

  Great. Now he probably thought I was having some kind of divine romantic encounter. I hope he doesn't make thing out of it and tell everyone, although he probably is typing about it

  I sighed deeply. "Look, Ms. Evernight..."

  "Call me Katie." Her grip tightened almost desperately. "Please. Just... call me Katie."

  Katie. The name echoed strangely in my mind, like hearing a song I'd forgotten I knew.

  "Alright," I said slowly. "Katie. I honestly don't know you. My name is Kokabiel, but you already know that, you've sought me out before through the pathways. I can't grant you power or forbidden knowledge. I'm just a traveler passing through your world. I should be leaving soon."

  She laughed softly, the sound muffled against my back. "I don't seek anything like that from you, Arthur. Even if it sounds tempting."

  "I'm not Arthur," I said, more firmly this time. "Not that I know of, at least. I'm not from this world. You are confusing me with someone else."

  She finally released her grip, and I felt immediate relief mixed with something that might have been disappointment. She walked around to face me, her golden eyes red from crying but still holding that impossible warmth.

  "I know you're not from this world." She reached up and cupped my face with both hands. Her touch was warm. "We both used to be human, Arthur. In another world. In another life. Gosh, it feels so long ago. How long has it been for you?"

  I opened my mouth to respond, to deny it again, but she continued before I could.

  "All I want from you is your forgiveness." Her voice was soft, sincere, carrying the weight of millennia. "And the chance to love you again."

  Before I could react, she pulled me down and kissed me.

  My mind went completely blank.

  It wasn't the act itself that stunned me. I understood the concept of kissing, had observed it countless times across infinite realities. It was the sensation. Warm. Soft. Desperately gentle, as if she was afraid I'd disappear if she pressed too hard.

  And underneath it all, I could feel it; the absolute, unshakeable truth of her words.

  She wasn't lying. This wasn't manipulation or a trick. Every word she'd spoken was genuine. She truly believed we'd known each other in a past life. Truly believed she loved me.

  But that didn't make sense. I'm no longer a human or an angel. Some might even call me a monster. An Outer God whose very existence threatens reality.

  I bring entropy and ending to everything I touch. I'm the antithesis of life and love and all those warm human things. I was incapable of love, nor did I deserve it.

  Yet this woman, this goddess who'd lived for thousands of years, claimed she loved me?

  She pulled back slowly, searching my face. Her smile was sad but understanding. "I know you must be confused. Think I'm crazy. I probably am."

  She laughed quietly. "Who holds onto their high school boyfriend's memory for millennia, even after reincarnating into a completely different world? But for me, it's worth it. You're worth it."

  I wanted to politely extract myself. Make some excuse and leave. This was getting too complicated, too emotionally messy. I just came to help Klein

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  But I also wanted to know her story.

  The curiosity gnawed at me, irrational and insistent. Even if we'd known each other when we were human, what did it matter? We were both living completely different existences now. We should have moved on, become entirely new beings.

  Yet something, some nagging feeling I couldn't identify, told me to listen. To stay.

  Maybe I could learn about my past self. What life used to be like before I became... this. Even though it would bring nothing but regrets to know what I'd lost.

  But ignorance was never bliss. It was just another form of blindness.

  "I don't remember anything," I said finally, speaking slowly and carefully. "But I can feel your sincerity. It's genuine. But Katie..." I paused, choosing my words. "Isn't it wiser to move on rather than holding onto a past memory of a ghost? I assume I died there , and you felt guilty about something. But living in uncertainty, waiting for someone who might never return, that's not healthy. That's not living."

  She was quiet for a long moment, her golden eyes searching mine. Then she nodded slowly.

  "Yes. It is foolish. Insane, even." Her smile turned wistful, sad in a way that made something ache in my chest. "But I'm a stubborn girl, Arthur. When I set my mind to something, I go for it and never look back."

  She looked down at her hands. "It was something you loved about me, actually. My determination. My drive."

  Her voice dropped. "But I used that stubbornness wrong. I tried to make you follow my dreams even when they weren't your choice. I pushed and pushed because I was so focused on what I wanted that I didn't see I was hurting you."

  She looked back up, and fresh tears were forming in her eyes. "And when I finally came to my senses, when I finally realized what I'd done and tried to apologize, tried to ask for your forgiveness..." Her voice cracked. "You were gone."

  The pain in her voice was raw. Ancient. The kind of regret that had been festering for thousands of years.

  I spoke gently, surprising myself with the softness in my tone. "I understand. But that was a different life. We were different people entirely. Why cling to it? Why not move forward?"

  She looked directly into my eyes, and her smile—despite the tears, despite the pain—was beautiful.

  "Because it's worth it," she said simply. "Because... I love you."

  The words hit me like a physical force. Direct. Honest. Unshakeable.

  I flinched, actually flinched at the heartfelt confession. I wanted to tell her it was an illusion, that she was in love with a memory that no longer existed. But I couldn't bring myself to dismiss something so genuine, couldn't insult the depth of feeling in those three words.

  She held my hand, her fingers interlacing with mine. The warmth of her touch was disorienting.

  "Would you like to hear my story, Arthur?"

  I stood silent, watching hope bloom in her golden eyes like a flower desperate for sunlight. Every rational part of me said to leave. To go back to my world, to the family that actually knew me as I am now.

  But that irrational part; that small, buried thing that resonated with her words made me speak.

  "Sure, why not." I paused, then added carefully, "But I can't promise anything, Evernight... uh, Katie."

  Her face lit up like I'd just given her the greatest gift in the universe. Pure joy radiated from her, so intense it was almost blinding.

  "I'm so glad you're willing to listen!" She grabbed my hand with both of hers, practically bouncing with excitement that seemed completely at odds with her appearance as an ancient goddess. "Let's talk in my castle! We can make it a date!"

  She started pulling me along the street, and I found myself following with a bemused smile I didn't quite understand the origin of.

  Though deep down, beneath the amusement, I felt something else.

  Unease.

  Like I was about to learn something that would change everything.

  ****

  Unknown POV - The Space Between Spaces

  In a realm beyond mortal comprehension, where the very concept of existence grew thin and reality bled into unreality, something stirred.

  Words appeared across the infinite void, burning themselves into the fabric of creation itself. A new scripture being added to the countless prophecies and truths that governed the omniverse.

  "And when the darkness and night meet each other, one shall turn into light, to shine upon the path he shall walk. Thus the end shall begin to unravel."

  The words burned bright for a moment, then faded, settling into the background tapestry of fate and possibility.

  Somewhere in Carcosa, an ancient being observed this new addition with interest.

  "How fascinating," Hastur murmured to himself. "Fate truly works in mysterious ways. I wonder how will you react to this then, my son?"

  He settled back to watch, curious to see what would unfold.

  ****

  Kokabiel's POV

  Reality shifted around us, the street in Tingen dissolving and reforming into something else entirely.

  We appeared in what could only be described as the Tenebrous Heaven, the divine kingdom that served as Amanises' realm.

  It was dark here, genuinely dark in a way that went beyond mere absence of light. The darkness was thick, almost tangible, pressing in from all sides like a physical presence.

  No stars shone in the sky above. A red moon provided gentle illumination that didn't really lessen the gloom. Just endless, oppressive darkness that seemed to swallow everything.

  The castle that materialized before us matched the atmosphere perfectly. Built from obsidian and shadow, it rose into the darkness above like a monument to the night itself. The architecture was ancient, gothic, with sharp spires and arched windows that let no light escape. There was no warmth here, no light, no signs of life besides us. Just eternal darkness and silence.

  Katie looked at me hesitantly, her earlier excitement dampening slightly. "Do you hate it? It might be a little gloomy."

  She fidgeted with her hands, suddenly uncertain. "I never really cared about decorating the place properly. Making it welcoming or beautiful. I was too busy looking for you."

  I shook my head, examining the oppressive darkness around us with detached interest. "It's fine. The darkness doesn't bother me anymore."

  That wasn't quite true. The darkness here felt suffocating in a way that reminded me of the void I'd experienced during my ascension. The emptiness between existence and non-existence. But I wasn't going to tell her that.

  Katie's face lit up with an amused smile, some of her earlier joy returning. "Yeah, you liked stargazing, didn't you? I remember us lying on the grass back home, looking up at the night sky for hours."

  Her expression softened with the memory, becoming distant as she recalled something precious. "You would tell me about the stars and constellations so excitedly. All these facts about astronomy and mythology and the distances between celestial bodies. How long it took for starlight to reach Earth. The names of different galaxies."

  She laughed quietly, the sound carrying both warmth and melancholy. "Honestly? It was boring as hell. I didn't care about stars or space or any of it. The science went right over my head, and I could barely remember which constellation was which."

  She looked at me, her golden eyes shining with unshed tears. "But I loved watching you talk about them. The way your eyes would light up when you explained something you found fascinating. How animated you'd get, using your hands to trace patterns in the sky. That childish excitement in your voice when you'd point out a particularly bright star or a passing satellite."

  Her smile turned sad, wistful. "I miss those nights. Miss seeing you happy like that. Miss lying next to you in the grass, feeling the warmth of your hand in mine while you pointed at constellations I couldn't identify." She wiped at her eyes quickly. "I'd give anything to have one more night like that. Just one more."

  Something stirred in my chest at her words. Not a memory, I truly didn't remember any of this; but something else. An echo of an echo, perhaps. A phantom sensation of warmth and happiness that had once existed.

  "It sounds... beautiful," I said simply, not knowing what else to say.

  "It was." Her voice was barely above a whisper, thick with emotion. "It truly was."

  We walked through the castle gates in silence, our footsteps making no sound on the obsidian floor. The interior matched the exterior—dark, empty, devoid of warmth or life. No servants bustled about. No decorations adorned the walls. No fires burned in the hearths. Just endless halls of shadow and stone that seemed to stretch on forever.

  Katie led me through the corridors with practiced ease, navigating the darkness without hesitation. We passed empty rooms and abandoned chambers, each one more desolate than the last. It was like walking through a mausoleum, a monument to loneliness and isolation.

  Finally, we reached a set of ornate doors. They were the first things I'd seen in this castle that showed any sign of care or attention. The obsidian was carved with intricate patterns—stars and constellations that seemed to move in the flickering shadows.

  Katie pushed them open, revealing her private chambers.

  The room was surprisingly simple. No extravagant furniture befitting a goddess. No displays of wealth or power. No golden ornaments or priceless artifacts. Just a modest bed that looked rarely used, a simple wooden desk covered in art supplies, a few chairs arranged near a cold fireplace.

  But the walls were covered in paintings.

  I stopped in the doorway, stunned by what I was seeing.

  Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. They lined every available surface, overlapping in places where she'd run out of space.

  Some were framed carefully in simple wood or silver frames. Others were just canvases propped against each other, stacked three or four deep. A few were still wet, clearly recent additions with paint that hadn't fully dried.

  And every single one depicted the same subject.

  A young man with slightly messy blonde hair that looked like he'd run his fingers through it too many times. Clear blue eyes that seemed to hold warmth and humor. Lean build, maybe eighteen or nineteen years old, still carrying that last bit of teenage awkwardness.

  In some paintings he was smiling—a sheepish, slightly embarrassed smile like he was trying to hide how he felt. In others he looked thoughtful, gazing off into the distance at something only he could see. A few showed him laughing, head thrown back in genuine joy, eyes crinkled at the corners.

  Each painting was an attempt to capture the same person from memory. To preserve every detail, every expression, every angle.

  Some were crude, clearly early attempts by someone just learning to paint. The proportions were off, the colors muddy, the expressions stiff and lifeless. Others were masterful, showing incredible skill and attention to detail. Every brushstroke was deliberate, every shadow perfectly placed, every highlight catching imagined light.

  I walked closer, examining them more carefully. My feet moved on their own, drawn to these images of a person I apparently used to be.

  In the corner of the room, partially hidden behind a silk curtain, I noticed a large pile of discarded paintings—ones that hadn't met her standards, presumably. But even those weren't thrown away carelessly or destroyed in frustration. They were stored carefully, stacked neatly and covered with cloth to protect them from dust. Preserved despite being considered failures.

  "You painted all of these?" I asked quietly, my voice sounding strange in the oppressive silence of the room.

  Katie nodded, moving to stand beside me. Her expression was shy, almost embarrassed, like a student showing their work to a teacher. "Not all of them. At first, I sought out the most brilliant artists among my followers. Masters who'd painted for centuries, who could capture the essence of a person with just a few strokes. I gave them detailed descriptions of your face, your smile, your eyes. Tried to guide their hands with my divine authority."

  She gestured at the older paintings on the outer edges of the walls. They were technically skilled but somehow lifeless, like looking at a photograph of a stranger. "Those are their attempts. But they all failed. No matter how skilled they were, no matter how much authority I used, they couldn't capture... you."

  There was frustration in her voice, old and familiar. "They saw the features but missed the soul. Drew the face but lost the warmth."

  She moved forward, pointing to the ones in the center and front. Her hand trembled slightly. "Then I decided to learn painting myself. Spent decades studying techniques, practicing brush strokes, learning about colors and light and shadow." Her voice softened. "These are mine. The ones I created with my own hands."

  I studied them more carefully now, focusing on the difference. The earlier paintings by professional artists were technically perfect. every line precise, every shadow mathematically correct, every color balanced. But they were cold. Empty. Like looking at a mannequin wearing a human face.

  Katie's paintings, while sometimes less technically perfect, had something else entirely. Life. Emotion. Love.

  Every brushstroke carried desperation and hope and determination. I could see her hand shaking in the slightly uneven lines. Could see tears in the places where the paint had run slightly. Could see her fighting to remember, to preserve, to keep him alive through art.

  "Is this how I used to look?" I asked, examining a particularly detailed painting near the center. It showed the young man, Arthur, rather my former self apparently. Sitting under a tree, sketchbook in his lap, smiling at something off-canvas. The detail was incredible. I could see individual strands of hair, the texture of the shirt, the warmth in the eyes.

  Katie nodded, her own eyes fixed on the image with an expression of profound longing. "Yes. Exactly like that."

  She reached out but stopped just before touching the canvas, her hand hovering in the air. "That's how you looked the last time I saw you alive. The day before the camping trip. I.., saw your photos from the trip after... your funeral. You were so happy that day. Your whole family was together, and you were smiling so freely. It broke whatever strength I had left."

  She laughed, but it was bitter, self-deprecating. "It's funny, isn't it? Ironic, really. You used to paint all the time. Drew and sketched constantly. Your room was covered in artwork—landscapes, portraits, abstract pieces, comic book characters. You had this gift for capturing emotion in your art, for making people feel something when they looked at your work."

  Her hand finally dropped. "I told you it wouldn't be a good career choice. That you needed to be practical, pursue something stable. Study business or engineering at Harvard, or law like me. Something that would guarantee a good job and financial security."

  Her voice cracked slightly. "We even fought about it once. You wanted to go to art school, chase your passion, and I said you were being childish. Said you needed to think about the future, about providing for a family someday. Asked if you expected to support yourself selling paintings on street corners."

  She turned to look at me, and her eyes were swimming with tears again. "Yet here I am, thousands of years later, painting desperately so I never forget your face. Doing the very thing I told you was impractical and foolish."

  She gestured at the walls covered in her work. "I've spent more time painting you than you probably spent painting in your entire life. So I never lose you again, even if it's just the memory. Even if these paintings are all I have left."

  She wiped at her eyes angrily, as if furious at herself for crying. "You only realize how precious things are when you lose them. When it's too late to get them back. When you can't apologize or tell them you were wrong, or that what they loved actually mattered."

  I didn't know how to respond to that. The raw emotion in her voice, the weight of millennia-old regret pressing down on every word—it was too real, too heavy.

  This wasn't just about paintings or art or career choices. This was about all the small ways she'd dismissed things that mattered to me, all the times she'd prioritized her dreams over mine.

  And now she lived in a castle of darkness, surrounded by thousands of paintings of a boy she'd never see smile again.

  I walked over to one of the simple chairs near the old fireplace and sat down, making myself comfortable. Then I gestured to the seat beside me.

  "Tell me your story," I said directly, looking at her. "But bear in mind, I don't remember any of it. I won't suddenly have some emotional breakthrough and remember everything. I'm not the person in those paintings anymore, Katie. I've become something beyond human understanding. Lost myself in the process. I'm what you'd call a work in progress."

  I met her eyes steadily. "So don't hope that I'll suddenly remember everything and we'll become happy lovers living happily ever after. I can't promise that. Can't even promise I'll feel what you want me to feel. I'm fundamentally different now, an Outer God whose existence operates on completely alien principles. I am probably incapable of feeling the way you feel about me"

  Katie's smile was sad but accepting. She walked over and sat down beside me without hesitation. Then, as naturally as breathing, she leaned her head against my shoulder.

  The contact should have been uncomfortable. Should have triggered my instinct to maintain distance. But somehow it wasn't. It felt... familiar, in a way I couldn't explain.

  "I don't expect that," she said softly, her voice slightly muffled against my coat.

  "My heart wishes for it, hopes for it desperately every moment of every day. But I'm not delusional, Arthur. I know you're different now. That the boy I loved is gone, replaced by something vast and incomprehensible."

  She closed her eyes, and I felt her relax slightly against me. "But even a fraction of you is better than nothing. Even this, just sitting together, talking like this, having you listen to me, is more than I've had in thousands of years."

  She was quiet for a moment, then continued. "I'd almost forgotten what it felt like. To be close to you like this. To feel your warmth, hear your voice, know you're really here and not just another memory or dream."

  She lifted her head and looked at me, her golden eyes searching my face. "It would be easier if I could show you rather than just tell you. My memories after that day, the day everything changed. The day I lost you."

  She hesitated. "May I? It's... it's intimate, sharing memories like this between divine beings. You'll experience everything I felt, think what I thought. But it's the only way to truly understand."

  I understood what she was asking. Memory sharing, especially between beings of our level, wasn't just showing someone a video of events.

  It was complete immersion. I'd feel every emotion she felt, experience every sensation, think her thoughts as if they were my own. I'd become her, in a way, for the duration of the memory.

  It was intimate. Vulnerable. The kind of thing you only did with someone you trusted completely.

  But I was curious now. Genuinely, deeply curious about this past life I supposedly had. About the person I used to be before becoming an angel or an Outer God. About what had happened to make this goddess wait thousands of years just for a chance to apologize.

  I nodded slowly. "Sure. Show me."

  Katie's expression brightened with hope and gratitude. She shifted closer, adjusting her position until we were face to face, mere inches apart.

  "Thank you, Arthur." she whispered. "For listening. For giving me this chance. Even if it doesn't change anything, even if you still leave after... thank you."

  She closed the remaining distance, and our foreheads touched.

  Reality dissolved around us, and I fell into her memory.