Fractured Memories part 2

### Chapter 12: Fractured Memories (Part 2)

*Bren's Point of View*

The forest blurred around Bren as she ran, her footsteps pounding against the mossy ground. She didn't care where she was going—anywhere was better than the clearing, better than the satyr, better than the suffocating presence of the shadowed figure that had haunted her nightmares.

The memories wouldn't stop. They clawed at her mind, dragging her back to the darkness of the cavern, the fire, the screams.

---

She had thought she'd escaped once.

After that first eruption of magma, she had been drained—her body wracked with pain, her mind clouded with exhaustion. The shadowed figure had left her alone for a time, likely pleased with its handiwork. The satyrs that had survived her outburst kept their distance, their once-mocking gazes replaced by wary caution.

That caution had been her window.

Late one night, when the cavern was quiet and the satyrs were lulled into a false sense of security, Bren had slipped free of her bindings. Her hands were raw and blistered, her body weak, but she pushed forward. She navigated the labyrinthine tunnels with nothing but instinct and desperation to guide her, her heart pounding with every step.

When she finally emerged into the open air, she had fallen to her knees, overwhelmed by the vastness of the night sky. Stars stretched endlessly above her, their light a stark contrast to the oppressive darkness she had endured.

She thought she was free.

But freedom had come with a price.

---

Bren's legs faltered as the memory twisted, bringing her back to that fateful night. She stumbled against a tree, her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath.

"Keep it together," she whispered to herself, her voice trembling.

The stars had been beautiful, yes, but they had also been a cruel reminder of how far she had to go. The forest around the cavern was dense and unforgiving, filled with creatures that stalked her every move. She had no weapons, no supplies, nothing but the tattered remains of her clothing and the faint warmth of the magma still coursing through her veins.

The first attack had come swiftly.

A shadow had darted from the trees, a feral creature with glowing eyes and razor-sharp claws. Bren had tried to run, but it was faster. Its claws raked across her arm, drawing blood and sending her sprawling to the ground.

Instinct had taken over then. The fire within her flared to life, and the ground beneath her cracked and sizzled. Lava surged from the earth, creating a molten barrier between her and the creature. It snarled, retreating just enough for her to scramble to her feet.

The fire had saved her, but it had also betrayed her.

The light of the magma drew attention—too much attention. More creatures emerged from the shadows, their eyes gleaming with hunger. Bren had fought, her untrained powers lashing out wildly, but the cost had been immense. Each burst of magma drained her further, left her more vulnerable.

By the time she reached the edge of the forest, she was barely conscious.

---

"Stop it," Bren muttered, her voice harsh. She pushed off the tree and kept moving, the memories pressing against her like a storm.

Even after escaping the forest, she hadn't truly been free. The shadowed figure had followed her, its presence a constant reminder of her failure. She had lived in fear for years, always looking over her shoulder, always wondering when it would find her again.

And now it had.

---

Bren's fists clenched as she remembered the moment her powers had spiraled out of control. She had been living in a small village by then, trying to carve out a semblance of normalcy. Her magma abilities were a secret, one she kept buried beneath a calm façade. But secrets have a way of slipping free.

It had been an accident. A simple argument with a merchant, a spark of anger she couldn't contain. The heat had flared before she could stop it, the ground beneath her feet cracking and smoking.

The villagers had turned on her in an instant.

"Witch!" they had shouted, their voices filled with fear and hatred.

She had tried to explain, tried to plead, but it was no use. They had driven her out with pitchforks and torches, their once-friendly faces twisted with rage.

It had been then, wandering the wilderness alone, that Bren had realized the truth: she could never stop running. Her powers, her past, they were a curse she could never escape.

---

Her legs finally gave out, and she collapsed onto the forest floor. The cool earth pressed against her skin, grounding her as she fought to steady her breathing.

The corrupted satyr had been a stark reminder of everything she had tried to bury. Its twisted form, its mindless rage—it was everything she feared she might become.

And then there was the shadowed figure.

"What do you want from me?" Bren whispered, her voice breaking.

The figure had been there, watching. It had let her go once, but now it was back. Why? Why now, after all these years?

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the questions, the memories, the fear. But another face came to mind—Trill's.

His anger, his frustration, his disappointment.

Bren's stomach twisted. She had run away, left him to face the corrupted satyr alone. It wasn't the first time she had fled from danger, and she doubted it would be the last.

But Trill was different. He had secrets, sure, but he didn't run from them. He faced them head-on, his sword cutting through the lies and darkness.

And yet, she couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth.

Not about the shadowed figure. Not about her powers. Not about the destruction she had left in her wake.

"Why didn't you save yourself from the shadow beast when we first met?" Trill's earlier question echoed in her mind. She had brushed it off at the time, but now it gnawed at her.

The truth was simple: she hadn't wanted to save herself. Not then, not really.

Because saving herself meant facing the fire within, the power she couldn't control, the pain and loss that had defined her life.

She opened her eyes, staring up at the canopy of trees. The stars were hidden now, the night sky shrouded in darkness.

"I'm tired of running," she said softly, her voice barely audible.

But even as the words left her lips, she knew they weren't entirely true.

She would run as far and as fast as she could—until the day she couldn't anymore.

---

**To be continued...**