Chapter 18

THE WRAITHS OF MEMORY

The Forbidden Realm seemed to shift as Amara wandered deeper, the air growing colder and the shadows thicker. The Keeper's warning echoed in her mind: This realm thrives on fear, pain, and desperation.

Her steps faltered as she entered a barren expanse. The ground was littered with fragments of broken mirrors, each reflecting twisted, distorted images of herself. She knelt to pick one up, but the moment her fingers touched the shard, a chilling voice whispered from the void:

"Do you truly know who you are?"

The mirror shard melted into black smoke, and the air filled with haunting laughter. Amara spun around, heart racing, as ghostly figures emerged from the darkness.

They were translucent, their forms shifting between human and shadow, and their faces…

She gasped. They were her parents.

"Amara," her mother said, her voice a mournful echo. "Why did you leave us?"

Her father stepped forward, his face twisted with anger. "We gave you everything, and you abandoned us!"

"No," Amara stammered, backing away. "This isn't real."

The wraiths advanced, their voices growing louder, more accusatory. The shadows around them writhed, pulling at her, trying to drag her down.

Amara closed her eyes, clutching the locket. Its faint glow pulsed against her chest, steadying her as she whispered to herself, "This isn't real. They're just memories."

When she opened her eyes, the wraiths were gone. The landscape had changed again, and she found herself standing in a warm, sunlit garden. The air smelled of roses, and the sound of birdsong filled the air.

At first, she felt relief—until she saw a younger version of herself sitting on a bench, holding hands with a boy.

Lysander.

The vision was of their first meeting in this life, before the shadows had taken him. The boy was laughing, carefree, his golden eyes alight with joy.

"You were so innocent then," a voice whispered behind her.

Amara turned sharply, coming face to face with a wraith-like version of herself. This Amara was dressed in flowing black robes, her eyes hollow and filled with darkness.

"Do you remember what you've lost?" the wraith asked, stepping closer. "Every life, you've tried to save him. And every life, you've failed."

The wraith gestured toward the scene, where the young Lysander began to fade, replaced by the shadowed version of him chained in the Forbidden Realm.

"You can't save him," the wraith hissed. "You'll only destroy yourself."

The garden dissolved, replaced by a stormy sea. Amara stood on a cliff, waves crashing violently below her. The wind whipped at her hair as another memory unfolded before her.

She saw herself standing on the edge of the cliff, Lysander holding her back. They were arguing—about her powers, about the dangers of the shadows.

"Don't do this!" he pleaded. "You don't know what you're risking!"

"I have to," her past self replied, tears streaming down her face. "I can't let you suffer because of me."

The memory shifted, showing her stepping off the cliff, the locket glowing fiercely as she fell into the raging sea. Lysander screamed her name, but it was too late.

"Do you see?" another wraith whispered, this one taking the form of Selene. "You've always been the one to fall. You think your sacrifice will save him, but it never does."

Amara clenched her fists, her heart pounding. "That's not true. This time will be different."

The wraiths laughed, their voices merging into a deafening cacophony.

The memories shattered, leaving Amara standing in an endless void. The wraiths surrounded her now, each one bearing the face of someone she loved—or someone she had failed.

Her parents, Selene, Lysander, even herself.

"You're not strong enough," they whispered. "You're destined to lose."

The shadows began to close in, pressing against her, suffocating her.

Amara dropped to her knees, clutching the locket. Its glow was faint, but it pulsed in time with her heartbeat, a small but steady reminder of her power.

"You're wrong," she said, her voice trembling at first but growing stronger. She rose to her feet, her eyes blazing with determination. "I'm not the same person I was in those memories. I've learned, I've fought, and I'll keep fighting."

The wraiths hissed, recoiling as the locket's light grew brighter.

"You may haunt me with my past," she continued, stepping forward, "but you can't control my future."

With a burst of energy, she unleashed the locket's power, flooding the void with blinding light. The wraiths screamed and dissolved, their voices fading into silence.

As the light subsided, Amara found herself back in the labyrinth. She was exhausted but unbroken.

The locket was warm against her skin, and she realized it had grown brighter, as though her defiance had strengthened it.

Ahead of her, the labyrinth opened into another chamber. At its center was a pedestal, and on it rested a fragment of an ancient tablet.

Amara approached cautiously, the words on the tablet glowing faintly as she neared. She couldn't understand the language, but the locket seemed to resonate with it, humming softly.

A voice echoed in her mind, gentle and familiar. You're closer than you think, Amara. The truth is within reach.

She took the tablet, feeling a surge of energy course through her. It was a clue—a piece of the puzzle she would need to save Lysander and break the curse.

But as she turned to leave, the shadows stirred once more, and a low growl echoed from the darkness.

The Forbidden Realm wasn't done with her yet.