Raven stood at the edge of the war camp, eyes fixed on the swirling mist beyond the warding stones. The veil trembled there—just barely—and only those who'd touched its breath would notice. To others, it was just fog. But to him, it felt like a whisper with no voice.
He didn't know why it unsettled him. Or maybe he did. He just didn't have the words for it.
His fingers flexed at his sides, warmth pooling in his palms. Ever since the last battle, his magic had shifted. It was colder now. Quieter. But alive in ways it hadn't been before—as if waiting for something. Or someone.
Maera approached from behind, cloaked in a mantle of dusk-colored feathers. "The rift widened again. Something is coming."
"I know."
She studied him. "You're different. Since the night the relic was activated."
He didn't answer. Couldn't. Every time he tried to trace back what had changed in him, his mind skipped like a stone over water. There was a hole in his memory. Not gaping—just enough to let the cold in.
A girl's voice had followed him in a dream the night before. Soft. Fierce. Unyielding.
*Don't forget who we are.*
Who? There was no face. Only a silhouette wrapped in light and flame.
"Sit," Maera said.
Raven blinked. "What?"
"Sit. You're no use to us unraveling like this. I'm going to try something."
He hesitated before obeying, lowering himself onto the charred stone circle at the heart of the camp. Maera knelt in front of him, drawing sigils in the ash with her fingertips.
"Is this a memory spell?"
"A revealing. If there's something buried in your bond, we'll find it."
"I don't remember any bond."
She met his eyes. "And yet your soul does."
He almost flinched. But he didn't stop her.
The chant began low, rhythmic, the air warping around them. Light bent. The ground pulsed beneath him. And then—
A scream.
Not in the camp. Not in the world.
Inside.
Raven's breath left him. Images flashed across his mind—flashes of frost and flame, a pair of eyes burning gold, lips whispering truths he couldn't hear.
He reached out.
And saw her.
Only for a second.
A girl standing in a realm of smoke and bone, chained by nothing but her own will. She looked straight at him—and smiled. Not out of joy, but defiance. Like she'd known he'd come.
And then she was gone.
He gasped, collapsing forward, his hands braced against the earth.
Maera touched his shoulder. "You saw her."
"I don't know her," he said hoarsely.
"But your magic does."
Something deeper than fear coiled in his chest. A longing without name. A hollow echo that throbbed louder than any war cry.
"I need to go back in."
"You can't. Not yet."
He turned sharply. "Why?"
"Because if she's still there, still alive in the in-between, then forcing the bond too soon could break her completely."
He stood. "Then I need another way."
"She chose this," Maera said gently. "Whatever deal she made—it's protecting you."
"Then I owe her more than forgetting."
The mist beyond the warding stones writhed like a living thing, drawn to his words.
Raven's jaw tightened. He didn't know her name. He didn't know her story. But somewhere in the hollows of his soul, a tether tugged.
Not a memory.
A promise.
The war wasn't just about realms now. Not to him.
It was about finding her.
And remembering why she mattered.
Even if it killed him.