As the first dream ended, as the image of a serene Sophia smiling in eternal sleep faded, Henry remained trapped in a maelstrom of chaotic and painful emotions. It was then that Socrost spoke.

"You have seen it, Henry. That is one of the possibilities, one of the paths your love might lead to, if you were truly gone. Her resilience is no less than that of any brave warrior. But the grief of loss... will be a scar that never heals, haunting her in every sleep until the end of her life." Socrost's voice once again pierced Henry's greatest fears. "Do you want that to happen, Henry?"

Henry looked at the final image of Sophia, peaceful in her eternal sleep. Then he turned back to face Socrost, and his thought was no longer one of helplessness but of fierce determination. "Stop," his thought trembled with suppression. "Please, stop. I don't want to see any more. Show me the second assumption." He had to find a different way, another path, no matter how difficult, he had to find it, so he could protect her smile and happiness, so she wouldn't have to live in loneliness and sorrow.

The hazy Spiritual Domain, where Socrost was leading Henry through the maze of Sophia's subconscious, changed once again after the tragic image of a silently grieving Saint Sophia faded. Henry felt exhausted, both physically and mentally, despite being just an observer. He felt helpless and tormented. Sophia's pain and her self-destructive loyalty had been seared into his mind. He didn't want such a future for her, a future where their love was just a sad memory.

He tried to calm his chaotic mind, preparing himself for what he was about to witness, even though he knew it might be even more painful. Because, as Socrost had said, he needed to see and understand Sophia's truest reactions to these possibilities. Only then could he make a less tragic choice, a path where he could protect and be with her.

The scene of their small apartment appeared before Henry's eyes again, but this time, the atmosphere was not one of silent grief, but of extreme confusion and panic. He saw Sophia, her face gaunt after many sleepless nights, her amber eyes that once shone with joy and love now red and swollen from too much crying.

She paced back and forth in their small room, a frantic, caged animal. Every now and then, she would stop, stare at the silent wooden door, then shake her head in disappointment and continue her aimless steps.

On the old oak table, the food she had probably prepared for their dinner was still there, untouched and long cold. Henry had disappeared. He had vanished without a word, a letter, or a single trace, wiped clean from existence.

Time in the dream once again passed at a strange speed. Henry had to helplessly watch Sophia frantically search for him everywhere. Sophia stood before the Bureau of Investigation, the cold autumn rain soaking her hair and shoulders.

Ragley shook his head, his eyes full of pity. "I'm sorry, Sophia. We've looked everywhere. There's not a single trace."

She even went to the old Unit 18 barracks, where they had shared so many happy and sad memories, turning over every stone, searching every hidden corner, hoping to find a clue he might have left behind. Sophia's face became more and more haggard and weary, her body grew thin.

But in her eyes, a fierce determination still burned, a fragile flame of hope that never went out. The fear that he had met with foul play, been captured by enemies, or even cruelly murdered tormented her every second, making her unable to eat or sleep peacefully.

After weeks, then months of searching in vain, all hope in Aerion seemed to be gone. With not a single clue to hold on to, Sophia made a desperate decision. She left everything behind: her job at the Cathedral, her close friendship with Brena, and the care of those who worried about her.

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She sold what little she had, bought simple traveling clothes, a silver sword for self-defense, and a small bag with a few essential personal items. Then she set out alone on a journey with no clear destination or goal. She didn't know where she was going or where she might find Henry in this vast world of Tehra.

But she couldn't just sit and wait in vain anymore. She had to go and find him, even if it meant going to the ends of the world, even if it meant facing any danger, she would never give up. Henry watched Sophia's journey, full of hardship and danger.

He saw her crossing dark, dense forests alone, facing ferocious beasts and highwaymen. He saw her sleeping in shabby, dirty inns in foreign towns, under the damp eaves of remote villages. Sophia, thin and pale, was sitting in a rundown tavern in a strange port city, giving a drunkard a coin for a baseless rumor about a black-haired man. Her eyes still burned with a frantic hope, but her hands trembled from the cold and hunger.

He saw her come close to death many times, being cheated, attacked, and cornered. But the thought of finding Henry, the faint hope that he was still alive, kept her going and gave her the strength to overcome every challenge. Henry wanted to scream, to tell her to stop and come back, but he was just a ghost in this dream.

The pain in Henry's heart was not only for the hardship and danger Sophia was enduring alone, but also for his own tormenting guilt. His departure without a word of explanation was what had pushed her onto this dangerous path. Her love, her fidelity, made him feel like the worst person in the world. An invisible hand gripped his heart, squeezing it tightly until it ached.

The dreamscape changed once more, showing Henry a different scenario, a different future for Sophia, but the sadness seemed to linger. This time, he saw Sophia sitting thoughtfully by the window of their familiar small apartment, her eyes gazing distantly at the bustling street below, but nothing seemed to register in her sadness.

In her hand, she held a letter, yellowed with time, its folds worn, the words blurred by tears from being read over and over again. It was the letter Henry had left before he secretly departed. It contained words of sincere love, belated apologies, and a vague promise to return one day. He explained he had to complete a secret mission, a great purpose he couldn't yet reveal.

Time once again passed quickly in the dream. Sophia was no longer frantically searching for him in the vast, dangerous world as in the previous scenario. Five years went by, and every evening, Sophia would sit at the dinner table with the crumpled letter in her hand, two portions of hot food already prepared, and she would sit there looking at the door, just as she used to wait for him to come home from his missions.

Ten years passed, and she still sat there every night, but her brown hair now had a few streaks of gray. Twenty years passed, and the dinner table was old and worn, bearing the deep marks of her hopeless wait. She no longer cried; her eyes just gazed into the distance. The waiting was no longer an agonizing pain. It had become a part of her life, a habit. And that was the cruelest thing of all.

Every time there was a knock at the door, every time a stranger appeared on their doorstep, her heart would leap with a flicker of hope, only to sink back into disappointment and emptiness when she realized it wasn't the person she longed for. But her love and waiting for Henry had not faded; they were as pure and true as they were in the beginning.

She would still often take out the old, yellowed letter to read, still sit alone at the dinner table looking at the silent door, hoping that one day, a familiar figure would appear, and a warm smile would be for her alone.

But the waiting also had its limits. Sophia's health grew weaker, and her hope slowly died over the years, leaving only love and a resigned acceptance of her tragic fate.

Finally, she no longer had the strength to wait. The longing and loneliness surpassed the limits of her weary heart. Sophia decided to set out on a final journey. She no longer had the fierce determination of the second scenario, but a profound exhaustion. It was the sadness of someone who had waited too long, hoped too much, and was finally disappointed.

Her journey, like in the previous scenario, was full of hardship and danger. And its ending was probably no different - a lonely, sad death in a foreign land, with Henry's image forever a haunting obsession, a love that would never fade.

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