30 | A Price of Our Demons

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Maglor Fëanorion | The Wanderer of Worlds

Location: Moscow, Russia, Earth

Time: December 1992

Snow fell in the air gently onto the thick blanket of snow. It covered each surface and crevice, piling onto rooftops or on the tops of branches. Evergreen leaves had a slight frosted tint on them, reflecting the light which vaguely shone underneath the veil of grey clouds and foggy skies.

He could smell the faint hint of smoke and pine, different to the familiar scent of ointments and herbal teas. If he sniffed too long, it almost felt as if his nostrils would freeze upon the cold air surrounding him, pushing into his skin and attempting to crawl upon it like ants.

However, the cold was far from his attention.

The outskirts of Moscow grew bleak in colour, and quieter as people tried to escape the freezing weather and the shivers of the cold. He turned around the corner, noticing the streets filled with endless houses that stretched across the horizon. A street where he knew that two certain souls were living right now under the nurturing of a guardian.

Tilting his head slightly upwards, he slowed down towards his destination. He looked ahead, noticing through the misty windows the flicker of light from the fireplace. Bare and straightforward, the living room still gained enough colour from the faint reddish hues of the wallpaper to the green silhouettes of a tree.

He turned his eyes to the noise and saw the figure upon the armchair, their head in the direction of the fire. Though, he didn't need to look further to see that she was cradling something in her arms – humming a tune as softly as possible.

A baby.

The woman looked worn; tired even, as she sang and trailed off after several seconds. He could see the lines upon her face, markings of a time that was not spent for either peace or calm. It may be lines of joy and times of laughter, but he knew by the state of her appearance it said otherwise - of hardship and stress.

Of the pain and burden she bore.

He had seen this woman many times across the Multiverse to know that her life was not so easy.

The fëa of Morwen and those after were never easy.

At first, he did not understand why such things were foretold. He had met many reincarnated souls on many Earths: and all differed even at a small fraction of time. However, when he crossed every path and timeline of hers and her children – they all led to every end.

The Morwen he looked at now was his twentieth one.

The one he had hoped would change to prove that his plans were right...

...That Lúthien's prophecy proved to be right.

Lokachari breathed in as he heard a voice call out from outside of the room.

Morwen's head turned upwards, her face softening a second later as she saw the young and shorter figure enter the room.

A boy, no younger than eight perhaps: stood by the door. His dark – almost black – hair fell to his shoulders, eyes in a palish hue of blue that almost appeared grey under the dimmed light. He walked over to them, eyes lighting up as he looked down at his sibling. His sister.

And when he muttered her name, all Lokachari could do was pray that this time...

...this time both of these children will live to become better than he had seen.

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Winter turned into spring...and spring turned into many more springs.

Only in the fifth spring did things go into their course.

He waited, watching far enough as he heard the news of an illness spreading across the city. When the news poured into the ears of Morwen, she acted as a mother would have and did the best thing she could. He knew from the patterns of his trips she would have done so. Packing the bare minimum whilst both toddler and teenager trudged at her side towards the train station.

They left Moscow, finding the small family residing in a village an hour away from the capital.

Lokachari watched as the girl – now five years old – ran across the fields of flowers, her laughter ringing across the air like a melody. He couldn't help but smile, though not without the sadness and fear lurking underneath as he watched from afar.

Young Liliana Morozova...also known as Urwen Lalaith of Arda: was alive and happy.

Though not for as long as he hoped for, for he knew that the time would come and every variant of herself will perish in the next few months under the same illness which befell her in every other universe.

However: all Lokachari could do was nothing.

He couldn't. Not when he had seen the pattern and acknowledged the importance of her death. How her death led the lives of others to change, causing ripples upon the surface into grand waves.

But something inside him that day made him change. A feeling in his heart to he had been forced many times to hide because of his duty. The feeling that Isolde told him to hide when it came to protecting the Multiverse and their lives.

Then he saw her eyes.

Her face expelled pure innocence and happiness.

Eyes of hope.

On that day: it was not Lokachari who chose to act.

Instead, it was Kanafinwë Makalaurë.

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"I did not understand it...the feeling I had sensed within me."

Illyria stared at him closely.

"At that moment, I had made the choice which caused chaos in the multiverse."

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Location: Unknown, Earth

Time: June 1999

"Kano!"

Makalaurë looked up from his book, eyes simply darting a few paces ahead of where he sat.

"Look at my sandcastle!"

Kneeling on the sand was Liliana – Liana for short – with her hands covered entirely by grains up towards her flushed cheeks. Her blonde hair which he braided only several hours ago was now in disarray, appearing more like a bird's nest that he could have sworn must have sand in it as well.

Yet nothing was said but the joyous grin that was plastered upon her face.

Liana's hands gestured to the fairly small structure made of sand, its features evident by the jagged towers and pinnacle that held a small stick. Decorated in shells and pebbles, the sandcastle was rather pretty despite it not being absolutely perfect.

Though as he lingered his gaze upon the top, he then paused.

Sat upon the top we're two figures replicated by a tower of pebbles.

His throat constricted, swallowing back the bile that rose before he smiled in return.

"It is beautiful, little one." Makalaurë mused before he added, "Shall I take a photo of it?"

With her head nodding vigorously...the growing temptation pulled his lips to twitch.

Soon a small yet low and wondrous chuckle joined in the bells of laughter.

Makalaurë stood plucked out his camera and took a snap of the rather small yet unique structure.

In a way...the sandcastle almost reminded him of Tirion.

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"We travelled for several months, never staying at the same time or universe." He told, his voice growing lighter at the memory.

Happier memories.

He continued, "We visited beaches, forests, and canyons. We even went to playgrounds or went shopping for toys." A smile crept up his lips. "I think I remember us having pizza balls in one universe. That was something you do not simply do on a daily basis."

Illyria in turn showed a small smile, sympathy upon her eyes and words.

"You gave her a childhood," She softly stated.

Maglor's heart panged.

In his mind, all he could hear were his words.

'And then I took it from her the moment she set foot inside my sanctuary...'

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Location: Arthorien, The Fireplains, South Middle Earth, Arda

Time: 2840 T.A

Makalau—

No.

Lokachari.

Lokachari walked upon the treetop bridges of the forest, slowly for the sake of the younger and shorter figure who was beside him. Liliana Morozova, now known to the peoples of Arthorien as Liana Urwen.

Urwen...after her true fëa's name. 

It was difficult, though not for her, to understand, but for him to even speak of the words. How does one reveal to a child – barely even nine years old – her origins? That she was Urwen: daughter of Morwen and Húrin. Sister of one of the most known humans of the First Age of their universe? To say that Lokachari attempted multiple times and had to prepare himself (he even decided to write everything on a slip of paper beforehand) was too many to count.

It was Mithrellas who cornered him during his usual morning meditation. If he didn't know she could hit him with a boot at such a distance (he blamed experience for now constantly placing wards around him), their conversation would go a different direction.

Nevertheless, the Silvan Arfanyaras would always win in terms of persuading him to do the right thing. Lokachari had sat her down in his house, with Faelivrin sitting beside him for support.

When he finally finished, asking multiple questions between his explanations, Liana simply just smiled.

She told him that – in her words – that it was 'awesome' to know that she was her before...and that Liana was glad he took care of her along with the rest of Arthorien.

Inside, Lokachari's heart swelled with relief and happiness.

This blessed girl was nothing but joy and compassion and it almost reminded him of the days he watched Eluréd and Elurín be raised in the same place.

But Liana was different for him. Oh how she reminded him so much of the first set of children he took care of.

Elrond and Elros. The Peredhel twins of Elwing and Eärendil. And despite it feeling such a distant flicker of his memory: he remembered. Every variant he met of them. Their lives, stories. Their deaths.

He remembered the variants that were the least fortunate of the multiverse.

The Elrond variants who lost their family too early.

Or the Elros variants who would take Elrond's place instead in a world that needed them.

Isolde was right that every being was significant to the timelines of universes. One simple change could cascade into an avalanche.

That was why he was careful with Liana and her presence. If the multiverse and those who seized to control parts of it knew what he did, Lokachari would have to deal with not only them but the Ancient One's anger for going against the uttermost important rule.

It was why this conversation both he and Liana were now having had him stuck having to lie.

Not because she would never understand...but was that even if she did – Lokachari would fall in her grasp and persuaded to let her go.

And he couldn't.

Her voice was a mix of desperation and hope, "Why can't I leave Arthorien, Kano?" Liana asked him as they stopped midway across the bridge. "Uncle 'Lurin says only you and Aunt Nim can allow people in and out."

After a second of pausing (he didn't have the heart to tell her that his name was different outside the house), Lokachari inhaled and gazed down at her.

He stared down at her, seeing the way her blonde curls framed her face. How her eyes began to twinkle in a brighter shade of blue.

Afterwards, he bent down to her eye level and reach out his arm. Tucking a strand behind her ear, Lokachari replied softly, "Because the world outside is very dangerous. It is no place for young children."

Confusion and frustration lingered in Liana's eyes but she continued to ask more.

"What about the multiverse?" She asked him, less patient than before. "Can I travel with you someday? Please?"

There was a moment which lingered. The sun gleamed past the great dome of Arthorien and onto her eyes. How her eyes grew bright and lighter as he said his promise to her.

"Someday, my little lily."

But at the same time, he could sense something within the depth. Tamed but unpredictable.

Unbeknownst to them all: there was a tempest brewing within the very soul before him.

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"Something was wrong with her."

"In what way?"

"Her...fëa," Maglor answered, his voice beginning to grow heavier as it began to come in. "I began to realise how much it affected every universe we arrived at. How her very being was constantly causing a collapse...a large change within the timestreams of the universe."

Illyria paused and looked at him.

"You think she was a nexus?"

"No."

She scrunched her eyebrows. "Then why was she causing so many incursions then?"

Maglor simply stared at her...and eventually, the Half-Aini knew.

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Location: Arthorien, The Fireplains, South Middle Earth, Arda

Time: 2850 T.A

"One day she will cause an accident, Maglor."

He turned to where she was walking to him, her eyes gazing to the exact spot he looked down upon the balcony. There in the distance: his adopted daughter was practising with Daeron, her hands out carefully. Blue sparks ignited from her hands, allowing them to dance about before they dissipated into thin air.

It was years since Liana arrived here.

Now almost at his height, the young woman was deemed to be the spitting image of her father. Soft wispy blonde hair only tied back by several suede pieces: it complimented her long and yet sharp face which was red from the intensity. And despite the perspiration evident on her forehead and the way her brows were creased, the mortal did not hesitate nor stop on the account of the elder elf's prowess.

She moved across the training yard with less fluidity but calculated in a way that still gave her enough time to send another spell towards Daeron. The Sindar Arfanyaras blocked it before shifting over, sending an eldritch fan towards her.

With the quick change, Liana ducked before her hands glowed and whipped out towards his direction.

In a few seconds, Daeron's legs swept over the floor before he landed on his behind with a thud.

That was when her gaze rose to his and Lokachari couldn't help but smile proudly – earning a wide grin from his daughter before Daeron clicked his tongue and urged her to go again.

With that, Lokachari returned to the Silvan Arfanyaras' statement. "She is getting better at handling her new powers, Nimrodel," He frowned slightly though hid it well enough as he asked, "Do you not have faith in her?"

There was a sharp inhale from Nimrodel.

"Having faith that she is strong is different to fearing she may accidentally cause harm not only to herself but those around her." The Guardian of Arthorien glanced momentarily at the two duelling before she lowered her voice. "Do you think it is her? The person Tinúviel predicted?"

The struck a chord in Lokachari's mind, a memory of the last time he conversed with the late reincarnated Half-Aini before he gulped.

"Daeron and Gildor believe it may."

Her eyes grew wide before they quickly slanted into a displeased expression.

But Lokachari simply said nothing.

Nimrodel's eyes flashed in a warning glow as she hissed, "And if it's not? What if this is only just because of the curse Morgoth placed upon her entire family's fate? You will be risking everything. The Turcistar will not forgive you for meddling with the multiverse, Maglor!"

When the words escaped her mouth, a flare erupted from his heart. 

Perhaps it was his own pride, or perhaps his defence for Liana, but that did not allow him to snap back at her so easily. No, Lokachari had known Nimrodel well enough that he would never easily show his doubts.

And yet seemingly it had. He had dug into the aftermath of his choices for as long as he could.

One thing he knew: Isolde would not excuse him for the sake of being their friend.

Lokachari turned to her and spoke calmly, "If it comes to the exposure of our world and the breaking of an incursion, I will deal with it myself."

A scoff left her mouth.

"Care for what you are speaking of, Maglor."

She peered at him, hissing between her teeth as she glanced between his chest and his eyes.

Though after staring several seconds at her, her expression changed into a neutral tone before she breathed in – surprising him as the words which left her mouth caused his spine to grow cold. "And I know from that head of yours, you are treading on something not even those above us could even dare to do. You must ask yourself: is this about her...or is this about you?"

If silence could be an answer, they would never have been in this conversation.

Thankfully, Nimrodel's intuition was too good. Or perhaps they have known each other enough to understand one another and their ideals and feelings.

"Maglor, we are allowed to indulge in what we love. What we desire. You with Faelivrin and Liana and I with Mithrellas." Her voice was softer but there was still a heavy demand upon the words she implored to him. "Though love and duty, despite intertwined, are inevitably one different to the other. We followed you in hopes of love and safety. How can we when we are putting one over the other?"

Lokachari could only wish then he knew the answer, but all he could muster was the same look and how his throat constricted the moment she had finished.

He could only thank her for leaving him in solitude after a few moments, letting him watch the person in subject continue to fight and train...

...Unknown to him and to everyone that there was a flicker of scarlet upon the young mortal's irises.

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"Do you know the tale of the children of Húrin?"

Illyria nodded.

"Well, it is as close as it is to the truth." He answered, "Morgoth's curse upon them was something more powerful than I have ever encountered. Being a spirit as powerful as him, who had aided in the creation of this world itself, has the chance to entail even the very seams of destiny. And that curse followed her in every reality."

Slowly, the half-Aini's eyes grew wider as he spoke.

"Every Urwen Lalaith or Liliana Morozova in the multiverse: dies as a child. Just as Turin Turambar and any of his reincarnations will always follow his tragic path of self-destruction. Or Nienor Níniel's sad and sudden death in the hands of their enemies."

His voice grew tighter as his eyes waded across their surroundings.

"I believed so surely that the curse would not affect her if she stayed in Arthorien. The protection would prevent her destiny from being woven back into the Song. Preserve her and let her live." Maglor's voice remained neutral as possible. Though every second he paused to breathe in, it was getting harder to say the words. "But of course...she wasn't some bird to be kept in a cage forever. I knew eventually...eventually she would want to go out there. Join the cause we have always told her...to protect the multiverse."

Closing his eyes, he could recall the memory too vividly.

"We hadn't released how much wrong we were..." He croakily spoke, "That we were simply creating something we had not thought of."

Maglor then explained the first time Liliana explored the Multiverse with him since her arrival in Arthorien. How even on the first two trips through the Silmaril rifts he was shocked to see how much she had changed.

And eventually after several trips: Liliana began to show symptoms of enhancements faster than any Arfanyaras. Her magic grew stronger, erratic, and almost unpredictable.

He wasn't speaking of eldritch magic or sorcery.

No. Liliana began to show unformidable natural magic.

Magic that only one being he had seen in the other continuity.

"That's why your eyes are blue," Illyria breathed in, her finger pointing at not only his but Elurín's as well. "I'm assuming it's a side effect of gaining all of that radiation."

"It is." He nodded, looking over to the peredhel variant who was busy talking to Bilbo across the campsite. "We have all either gained or enhanced something within us. Adapted us to withstand the power of the Silmaril."

She peered in return, "So what was her's then." She questioned, "What did she gain from the Silmaril?"

Maglor stared back at her and answered:

"Chaos."

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Location: The Unknown South, Middle Earth, Arda

Time: 2890 T.A

The world beyond the Yellow Mountains was unlike anything he would have expected. Endless masses of forests and wildlife, untamed and untouched by the hands of the north. He would have thought the people of Far Harad and Greater Harad would venture further just as any civilization would.

But something stopped them. A power that surrounded the entirety of this place that neither he nor anyone around him could pinpoint nor understand. It enveloped them, almost wanting to make them suffocate. He would observe them all, with Mithrellas and Faelivrin appearing more vigilant than before whilst Limroval and Liana tried to make their fellowship less sour than the previous day.

It did not stop that irking sensation from growing.

Though one thing was for certain: the Nightingale – Lúthien Tinúviel – was correct.

There was something different in the south. A raw and potential danger which lurked upon the deepest parts of their fëar. A power that almost felt consequentially indescribable and growing as they got further and further.

When the days passed, he knew that they were becoming affected by it. A maddening feeling of restlessness and paranoia that if they were not aware of it, he was afraid it could lead them to make a mistake. Thankfully the Arfanyarossë and the Avari of Arthorien were not showing clear signs...in all but one.

Liana began to grow hasty and paranoid. Despite being the leader of this expedition, Lokachari could not back down and change his mind. His daughter, stubborn as she was, refused to turn back despite his hints towards her being. But she simply brushed it off and said it must be the air around them. Faelivrin tried to comfort her, ushering him to keep her company even when he was busy at times.

But all of his focus was to find the source of what the Tolkiens prophesied. He could not let his love overrule him despite already choosing to bring her along all this way.

On the back of his mind, he made certain to ignore the conversation he and Nimrodel once had of this.

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As the week passed along, they arrived at another clearing within the rainforest.

Too long have they wandered and despite the efforts and optimism of Lúthien Tinúviel's prediction, that hope began to wane. He could not admit to himself that he was growing desperate, wanting to prove to them that they were getting closer to their goal.

Until the darkness arrived and hell crossed them in the form of evil.

Creatures in which none – even him – have crossed attacked them. Spirits of darkness grasped each of them one by one. They were twisted demons, physical embodiments made of smoke and ghoul-like appearance that they were almost a reminder of the Nazgul. But instead of them cloaked in darkness and the sensation of their remainder of beings of Eru: they almost seemed to be created by another.

Lokachari could only assume they were servants of the Dark Vala – beings created by Morgoth during the years of Almaren. A time before Aman didn't exist and Arda was the world in which the Ainur sang into existence.

They took several of the peredhil first, snatching them into the unknown before all that remained were their weapons or parts of their armour. The longer they stood out in the dark, the more likely they would come after them, taking the ones who would be alone or even slightly far from them. And despite agreeing to stay together, the creatures of the darkness continued.

Bolder they grew until that faithful night when a mass number of demons attacked them.

They couldn't fight them. Not when there were few and those who were Arfanyarossë were either depleted in strength or injured.

Lokachari did what he could, taking his responsibility as their protector and leader as he tried to use both the Songs of Power and the Gem. He knew using the Silmaril would be a risk – unsure how these demons would react to them. Though the longer they fought, continuously throwing whatever eldritch magic they had known as well as physical weapons, the more they seemed to grow more agitative.

At that time, Faelivrin was almost devoured and killed. Her hair had singed off, his shock trailing off as her golden locks slowly changed into an inky brown to almost black. He had been too far from her, trying to push a dozen more away from Elurín until he saw the demon almost grasp her leg.

But as he was about to use the Gem, there was a burst of red.

When the demon was thrown back, leaving Faelivrin on the floor with shock, all eyes slowly turned to the one who had cast it.

Standing in the midst of them was Liana – her eyes in a blaze of scarlet.

Her hands were enveloped in a hue of crimson, fingers daintily moving as the energy surged across her body and all he could see was the fear on her face. The pit in his stomach dropped for a moment, questions flying across his mind as Lokachari stared at his daughter in disbelief.

But that was not the fear he gained. It was what happened next which drew him into horror.

As she held her hands out, the demons froze in fear as they were shrouded in red. They then began to scream and howl as the magic began to grow...

The demons exploded in a whisp of smoke as the rest escaped, fleeing into the jungle as they all stared at the variant who stood in the middle. Lokachari himself lost his focus on those he fought, never leaving Liana's eyes as he then noticed the fluctuating power.

"Liana..."

The growth of energy continued as her chest began to heave heavily, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she stared at them.

She was losing control.

"No." Lokachari strode over, preparing his hands in a defensive position as he tried to reach out to her, "Listen to my voice, Liana—"

Instead, she let out a panicked cry, the encasing of red magic beginning to almost cause the ground to shake and tremble.

He then shouted for the rest to fall back, ordering Mithrellas to get Faelivrin out whilst he would make sure Liana would be safe.

It was unlike anything he experienced...and yet he knew what it was.

A certain witch possessed this same untamed power.

Scarlet eyes glowed, tears trickling as she pleaded to him, "Ada...Ada!" Liana cried out, "Help me!"

He did.

Or tried to.

But even Eldritch magic and his own were not even equated to the chaos which shrouded her. And in the midst of it all, her eyes flashed in a blend of blue and red until the air around them shifted.

In a blinding light, a rift appeared between him and Liana. A rift that was a mix of crystalline structures and the mess of swirls that would be her own. His jaw dropped in horror, knowing exactly what it meant and he had to act fast.

Lokachari took out the Gem, using all his concentration to close the unstable portal whilst trying to push his way through Liana's protective shielding. She was protecting herself, not because of him, but those who attacked them. An accidental defensive mode which must have grown since their travels.

"Maglor, you have to stop her!"

He turned momentarily to look back at the source of the voice.

Mithrellas shouted back, "She will hurt herself or one of us if she cannot control it!"

Not wasting any second, he knew what he had to do.

If he could not close the portal quickly enough, he had no choice but to do something else.

With an inhale through his nose, he allowed the Silmaril to take control and let both him and Liana get engulfed by the enclosing rift.

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"Out of all the beings in the world...it would be the soul of a child of Húrin that would possess Chaos Magic from the Silmaril," He breathed in shakily, the disbelief still evident in his tone. "Chaos caused by Morgoth's curse that has followed through her reincarnation. The chaos had followed her because of it. Because Fate wanted her dead according to the stories, and so to oppose it induced chaos magic itself."

That was the only reliable explanation he had concluded. Decades of searching for the source of how it came to be had him come to dead ends. Most of it had led him to a fit of anger and frustration that not even the One was inexplicably able to comprehend the phenomena that were Urwen Lalaith.

The Anomaly. That was what she was now called to the masters of the mystic arts and protectors of the multiverse. A being that had been placed in such a unique situation that Fate had done everything to pull them back to its course.

That not even Lokachari could fight it.

"Wha...What happened with you and her then?" She questioned him after a minute of silence.

"I had lost control of the Gem by then, but it was enough for me to decide that I couldn't let us land near Arthorien. It would risk the entirety of the sanctuary," he told her, revealing what happened to him and Liana the moment they were engulfed by the right. "Even so, if we ever did return, the protection of Arthorien would not combat against them. A curse and chaos were fighting themselves and I had no choice but to bring her back to earth."

He gulped as the moment arose.

The part where he knew was the trickiest to say.

"However, the situation of the Gem caused us to go...off course."

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Location: Unknown

Time: Unknown

There was a click as both his knees fell before the hard ground just as Lokachari let out a strangling cry.

The sudden surge of electric power erupted up his body as the glowing-ended weapon was thrust at his calved, forcing him to hold himself up by his arms. He hid the wince as the impact ruptured through his burnt hands, seeing the mangled scars which were now open.

More screams continued as, despite all his efforts, even his own voice couldn't save him or Liana as they were dragged through the corridor and into a dimly lit room.

Everything was orange, grey or even white. A dullness within such an important place whilst they were both chained upon two sets of metal chairs. His hands were bound by silver cuffs, mirrored by his daughter who was again showing a blare of anger and fear upon her.

Lokachari didn't care what would be done to him; all he cared to know was Liana's.

And he knew then what they would do to her.

"Ada..."

It had been years, but to see Liana's face filled with pure fear made his chest tighten and his stomach coil.

He had done this. He had been selfish. He chose a path that would lead them here. Foolish to believe that it was possible for her to run away from her destiny. Her fate in this reality.

Instead, he was about to see her die one last time.

The analyst who entered the room, after waiting for moments for him, panned their gaze between them both before he approached Lokachari. The man looked at him, his eyes never straying further down due to Lokachari's height, before he tapped his clipboard and clicked his tongue.

Lowering his voice, the analyst warned, "You have meddled with an incredibly dangerous variant, Wanderer. Be lucky that the Sorcerer Supreme has vouched for you."

Despite knowing it, Lokachari still felt a cold shiver past him at the notice he was given. He was given a choice to live by the so-called mercy of the person behind the curtain.

A person he knew would eventually catch up to his choices.

However, the Time Variance Authority knew nothing of the truth. They still believed that these Timekeepers were the saviours of this timeline. Beings who were doing this for the greater good.

Oh how far they were...and how much one certain being would eventually cause their continuity to break.

Though before he was escorted out, he eyed the analyst and pleaded, "Just give us one last time. To say goodbye." Lokachari whispered, "Please."

Staring coldly back at him, the analyst blinked before he nodded curtly. He gestured for the other guards to uncuff Liana and him before the former thrust herself into Lokachari's arms.

They both stood there, forgetting that there were others in the room as they finally said goodbye.

Liana then looked up at him, her eyes rimmed with red as she spoke, "It's time, isn't it? I'm being put back into my timeline." She eyed sideways, looking back at the large screen upon the walls of the interrogation room. She noted, "I'm going to be erased."

That was when everything crumbled. 

Just as he felt as Makalaurë or even Kanafinwë, the layers he built around his own heart caved in as he finally showed the pain and sorrow he held so long upon Liana's life.

She did not deserve this. 

He did all he could. He wanted to give her a choice. A choice to feel and see the world.

Regret and guilt soon welled in but he could not yet say the words. How sorry he was for doing this, for lying to her about how bad it would become.

And yet all he saw was her smile and her eyes glowing as she whispered up to him, "Thank you. For showing me everything." She cupped her hands upon his cheek, wiping away the tears which fell. Liana implored, "Promise me, you'll go home. And...I'm sorry."

"No...no." He hoarsely replied, bringing her hands onto his. Shaking his head, he quietly murmured, "You do need to apologise."

Never would she need to.

All Liana did was continue to smile, as she pressed one last kiss on his hand.

"Papa...it's fine." She reassured him, "It's okay. I know."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"They reset time the moment I took her away. To make sure Morwen and Theodore Madoc mourned for her."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Location: Kamar-Taj, Nepal, Earth

Time: June 1999

Lokachari blankly gazed back at her whilst she remained emotionless as she stood in the centre of the courtyard.

"You told them." He said in a tone that was equally as cold as the frozen north. Lokachari finally realised then and added: "You told him."

Even without the mention of the name – a name which stretched across the multiverse – Isolde knew who he referred to.

The man of time.

The Conqueror.

A man who Lokachari knew was perhaps even a greater threat than Morgoth himself.

But Isolde could only narrow her eyes, stating in a sharp and scolding voice as the words left her mouth.

"What you did was reckless, Makalaurë," she told him as he took a step closer to her. "Meddling with not just a timeline but ours, for what? For one child?"

The anger which already festered lingered still on his voice, as his hands began to shake and his chest tightened and curled in fury.

Lokachari argued, "Her soul is like that. No matter what universe or reality, she will always die before her time! I wanted to give her a chance. A chance which I gave to the rest." He loudly implored, "Just as I gave to Eluréd as well!"

He knew from her scrutinizing gaze that she wanted to say more. 

Perhaps to chide him once again on how his choice to let Eluréd Peredhel go was also a large mistake that would have caused an incursion to their universe. Instead, she merely focused on him, throwing more questions back at him on his actions instead.

"Did you not forget the consequences of the Gem? The effect on people especially of those of your world?"

"I knew what I was doing," He responded with gritted teeth, closing his eyes afterwards as he then massaged his temples. Regret began to seep through, trying to himself of the other choices as he spoke, "If I hadn't taken her constantly through my travels—"

"And you made an immense mistake in believing she was safe to train and to what? Become a weapon?" She asked.

"No!" He stopped and gaped back. Lokachari defended himself, "Never would I have thought of her as one! She was like a daughter to me."

'A daughter which I sent to her death...'

Tears prickled on the edges of his eyes and he had to push so much of his effort to maintain his strength. But the cracks were showing. He knew he was going to break again as disappointment appeared upon Isolde's face.

"I know who she was to you," She said gravely before she then shook her head. "But nevertheless, you chose to move with your feelings than your intuition. You believed she may have been the answer to Tinúviel's predictions without adhering to the problems we would face."

As the winds blew across his face, he could sense the coldness seep in as he stared downwards towards his chest.

The Silmaril gleamed underneath the mass of bronze and copper covers.

The source of everything which led him here.

"I am sorry, Makalaurë. But there are times when even we cannot overcome the Multiverse's choices," She softly said before she left him tending in the middle of the courtyard.

For the first time in so long he could remember: Kanafinwë felt as if he was the ellon the moment he lost his brother and the guilt and responsibility had finally amassed and swallowed him whole.

The guardian became a wanderer once more.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Location: The Unknown South, Middle Earth, Arda

Time: April 2981 T.A

"So many lives were lost."

He could still remember the faces and names who fell to Morgoth's creatures.

"We decided, the seven of us, that we would forbid anyone to travel past the Orocarni. No one would go beyond the mountains and seek it ever again."

And he had stuck to that for as long as he could recall. Even after he returned, earning more of a berating to both Mithrellas, Nimrodel and Faelivrin, but also disappointment and anger in both Gildor, Daeron and Elurín as he revealed to them what happened.

He could still remember the anger radiating in Mithrellas, the rage which almost caused his hand to be cut off. The sorrow in Daeron, knowing that Turin Turambar's sister was lost once more. And the distrustful looks Nimrodel gave at him.

But no more did it hurt when he saw Faelivrin. The once golden-haired and joy in the elleth was all but a memory. Instead, it was the hardness and battle-wearied High-Queen once more, the same elleth he met during the days he first met her in her universe. Her hair would forever remain short, now styled in simple pins and braids. Though none would cause more guilt was the hidden scars upon her legs and torso, forever hidden from everyone. 

Even him.

Everyone grew distant after Liana's death. Faelivrin knew him too well how much it had caused him and he was thankful that she had willingly supported him compared to the rest. But Maglor didn't know then how much it had hurt her, how much his neglect and disappearance caused her.

And yet when he returned to her all he saw was the relief and beauty that was Ereiniel Gil-Galad. Stubborn, loyal, and forward: deep down she was patient and understanding. She had the strength that Maglor didn't possess and he did not deny that it was the reason why she became High Queen.

But as much as they were patient: none would know the very small details and truth of what happened.

"Until now," He whispered – turning back to the one who had been listening to him all this time.

Standing just on his right, Illyria Strange gazed back at him as she echoed, "Until now."

He stifled a ragged sigh, instead clenching his gloved hands whilst he eyed the path that was before them.

They were at the far back of the entourage, far enough for them to speak alone but close for him to listen or sense the others. As much as his instinct to remain together, Maglor wanted only Illyria to know this. 

Yes: he didn't mind others listening; he knew the rest had learnt about Liana Morozova through books and tales.

But something about telling the Half-Aini before him was different. 

He could not pinpoint why, only the fact that it felt...relieving almost.

Like a weight had been lifted on his shoulders, partially remaining on him but not as much as crushing his entire body.

Why it was her, he wasn't sure.

Perhaps it was the fact that despite how long since they first saw one another – he was reminded of what she had done for them. Not the variants he had seen or met, they would always be their own version, but Illyria Strange of his universe. Illyria or Elemmírë: she was always honest to him and his brother to the verge of wanting to kill them whilst wanting to do nothing but defend their souls to the Valar themselves.

The being before him saw the different sides of him and he hoped then still did.

Sometimes even he wasn't sure which side of him was now...or what remained of Maglor Fëanorion.

However, it was always definite who he was to Liliana Morozova. Kanafinwë would always be Urwen Lalaith's adopted father.

"Every moment I think of her, I am reminded once more of the duty I hold," He brushed the back of his hands with his fingers, looking back to the Half-Aini as he told her: "I do not wish to force you, Illyria. Not when I know what it did to her."

He was received with a neutral expression, though sensing the calculating judgement upon her gaze.

She was deciding what to say, or perhaps to know if she was ready to trust his words.

"That is why I am telling you this now, Illyria Strange," His voice grew bolder as he grew serious, words ringing in the midst of this unknown place. "Because I must not deny the words I shall say. Wherever we are going, we shall be doing something that would risk your life. And I cannot lie when the words of my foster son ring upon my ears like a warning."

There was no point in denying now the truth. He knew from how Illyria's eyes widened that Elrond had meant everything he said.

He swore to Elrond to bring her back to him safely and he would do so for the sake of his child and every child he had considered to be his.

A secret oath Maglor and Elrond swore.

The irony may be there. Poetic almost. But they knew how much this mortal spirit meant so much to them. For Maedhros, Elrond's children, and those who cared deeply for Illyria Strange.

Just like her adopted father.

"My father knew, didn't he?" Her question sounded more like a statement.

Maglor nodded.

"He did."

Illyria let out a strangled breath, her calmness beginning to crack by how her voice wavered in frustration.

"You only wanted to give her a choice." She started, a slightly breathless tone as she continued: "And I understand that. Look what my dad did. What Elrond did for Arwen. The feeling of having to make a choice to let go or not, it's undeniably hard. And it's even harder to accept it to yourself when you know this was what you chose."

She closed her eyes.

"But..."

She sucked in a breath.

"...But it terrifies me. Because now I understand the lengths you, Ulmo, your mother and the Tolkiens had to get here. Even with my dad as well." Her gaze glimmered under the moonlight, the depth of tranquillity that was brewing underneath. "I want to accept this. That I'm willing to go the same way too...but I can't trust you."

Every word seemed to hang, causing his heart to palpitate.

"Every time someone's chosen this path for the sake of the greater good, it destroys them more than it can save." Illyria's voice broke as she revealed to him, "I lost my life, Maglor. I died because I was too stubborn. Too far into my heroism. Because I thought I was the only one to do it. In the end: I lost my family. My entire family grieved because of what I did."

Her words cut through the silence around them.

"I can't do it this time. Not when I know their lives are hanging on what happens next."

She swallowed her breath, and it showed through once more the truth in Illyria.

That she was still so young, placed in a situation that she had known and yet still couldn't prepare for.

Just as what Liana shared.

"But I'll try. I will try to do what you think could help us. But I can't assure you that I'll follow every choice you make because it would be the only option," She grew confident in her words, looking back at him with a stronger expression. "There will always be other ways. Maybe it won't be obvious, but you sometimes have to look at the last second to realise it."

He could not help but look downwards, thrown back at her words.

"...You said that to me a very long time ago," Maglor stared at her.

"And I still stand by it," Illyria firmly answered before scoffing softly. "You Fëanorians always think that there is only one way through this, and that means either by sheer force of your own skill or none at all. But I've learnt as both Elemmírë and Illyria that there are other options in saving a life or saving a goddamn universe from impending doom."

She took a step closer to him, her heaving chest getting heavier as she gazed into his eyes.

It was seeing the Half-Aini back in Isengard once more.

For once there was a skip of a beat in his heart, a fear who could not help but sense.

"I'm going to fight this, Kanafinwë Makalaurë, the way I know is right for everyone. Not what you think is for the greater good. Not what Tolkien dictated or what your mother and Ulmo planned." Illyria told him, never letting go of his gaze. "And Liana knew back then in the TVA that she knew it was what she wanted. She chose her death for the sake of being her own self, not dictated by Fate or anyone else. Her. And I think she wants you to ask yourself the same thing."

"What."

"If you're doing this for your heart or your duty," She answered.

Maglor paused, his mouth closing slightly.

Nothing seemed to come out, but perhaps she already saw deep in his soul what was truly within him.

So instead he asked the same question.

"What of you," He quietly replied.

Illyria merely smiled sadly, but the silence was already an obvious answer as she left him pondering.

No ounce of doubt in his soul that he knew Illyria chose her heart over everything else.

If only he had the freedom to do so as well. But even then, a half-Aini like Illyria – despite walking freely – had equally the same cage of duty he possessed. She merely accepted it and allowed herself to choose to walk between the fine lines of responsibility, mature enough to understand the consequences she knew had to face in the future.

At that moment: Maglor thought of the present and thought of it. Everything. His family, Arthorien. Liana.

...And perhaps in the hectic world, he had come to know, there was a chance of hope that he may forgive himself for the first time in his life.

____

A/N: Kinda a heavy chapter to come back to after being on holiday for a month. But then again, we're back to our usual drama and angst with our favourite Hermit, who somehow kidnapped another child to save her life. Liliana, or Urwen Lalaith: is mentioned in the Children of Hurin. The sister of Turin died due to illness during the First Age...but instead was reincarnated on Earth along with her own family, in various parallel universes.

But you're probably asking why is she important all this time. Why have I dropped hints about her? Apart from the fact that from Maglor's view, he is comparing his adopted daughter with Illyria's own person, there is a little bit more for Urwen Lalaith.

Also...considering this version has chaos magic: I think you know exactly where things are heading in the future. ;)

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Edited: 23/04/2023