He sat by the lake for a few chimes, thinking. He knew he was overreacting, but the grief was real. In a sense, it was like losing his wife all over again. He knew it was a big "if", but still, IF Wanda was the rebirth of the soul of his wife Raellen, he had missed this cycle's opportunity to be reunited with her. There was no conflict of time, Raellen had died well over a hundred and twenty years ago and Wanda was surely no more than in her mid-forties, if that.
Now, the torture was about what to do with the rest of this life. He was potentially immortal, which meant he would never be on the ground floor with the reincarnated soul of the woman he had loved so dearly. He'd have to catch her before she developed a love of her own in the next life. But what woman would "fall in love" with a Nuit, even if he could convince her he was a past love. No, it was preposterous. The only reason he even entertained the notion was because he knew Wanda was lonely.
So, what was he suggesting to himself? That he hoped that Wanda would be reborn as a woman unlucky in love? Have no other options but a walking corpse? Was he going to stalk her and try to 'catch her on the bounce' after being dumped by some pig? Was he going to 'be her first'? He might be two hundred years old and she, sixteen?
He turned away from his reflection in the water with disgust. How often did past lovers find their reborn selves in future lives anyway? Why should he be so special that the gods would grant him a one in a hundred million boon? How could he really know whether she really was Raellen reborn anyway? He was fooling himself, he HAD to be. 'What? She had a few similar mannerisms and now he was convinced that she was his wife reborn? And she just happened to move to Alvadas? And she just happened to be an alchemist? And she just happened to be the owner of the shop where he just happened to work? And he just happened not to notice these similarities until now?'
Almost, he managed to completely quiet the nagging voice answering 'yes' to each of those questions. He knew things happened in cycles. The gods seemed to enjoy the repetition. And even though there was no reason for him to be the object of some miraculous scheme by the gods, by Lhex himself, there was likewise no reason why he could NOT. It DID happen. There were incidents of it having been proven, to as much a degree as possible. Some simply refused to believe it, but they were mostly those that didn't acknowledge the gods at all. That certainly couldn't be said of him. The gods had been a driving force in his life ever since his wife and daughter had died....He stared in mute epiphany as realization dawned on him.
The direction of his goal suddenly veered and an unexpectedly positive lining gleamed through the sadness. 'Of course. The cycle. That was the whole point!' There was suddenly redemption for his soul, for his loss, for his sacrifice! If it was a repetitive cycle that awaited him, he would break it by rejecting it. His life with Raellen had ended in tragedy. Her death at age 24, her daughter's at 18, his obsession for nearly a century after that. And what had broken that obsession? A hint from the gods. They bring him here and arrange him to see what becomes of her in a life without him. She HAD met another man at Zetiva University, just like she had met him. But THIS time, she did NOT marry. This time, she did NOT die in childbirth.
THIS time, she built a career. A career now aided by a man for whom there was only professional appreciation. A man she could NOT have romantic inclinations for. She would live to a ripe old age, respected and remembered in her field. He suddenly knew there was no way he was going to ruin that. When this life was over, perhaps the cycle would be broken. He might, one day, give voice to his theory and see how she reacted. Maybe she would ask for the transformation to Nuit, as he had done. His reason for it was entirely different, of course, but that didn't matter now. That option would be open for a long time to come.
He sat before the water and gazed at his reflection, letting the familiar meditative state calm his mind. His image blurred, widened, became two of him. He let the image on his right become static in his imagination. It simply sat and looked back at him, a dull expression, void of emotional tendency. The image on the left, though, grew sad. Melancholy formed a distortion around it, following the pattern of the gentle waves on the lake. The waves grew in intensity for a moment and, when they calmed, there was a second blur, which formed an image of Wanda.
The sad Kuvarakh grew joyous and rose quickly to embrace Wanda. they both laughed and faced each other. They leaned in slowly, enticingly. The Kuvarakh on the right paid no attention, but a hint of resolve strengthened his features as the pair on the left turned and walked slowly out of the image. A chime later, The remaining figure of Kuvarakh stood up and straightened his clothes and stance. He walked forward into a blur of lost focus as Kuvarakh himself, sitting by the lake, regained awareness of his surroundings, stood up, brushed the dirt from his clothes, straightened the wrinkles, arched his back to work out a few kinks and turned to go back to work. There was no longer any conflict in his heart. He would let Wanda's life run its course without interfering. He was satisfied with his decision. When she retired, he might present his offer, he might not. Time would tell.