Chapter 10: The Weight of Truth

Part 1: Cracks in the Foundation

The words lingered long after they were spoken, sinking into the room like a heavy fog. Aedric sat frozen, his mind still trying to process what the stranger had revealed. He was the one who had broken the cycle. He was the reason it kept resetting.

The fire in the hearth crackled, but its warmth did nothing to cut through the chill settling deep in his bones. He gripped the arm of the chair, his nails digging into the wood. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, his thoughts spiraling into a mess of fragmented memories and possibilities.

Elias, sitting across from him, exhaled a slow, measured breath. "Say something, Aedric."

Aedric blinked, his mouth dry. "What do you want me to say? That I understand? Because I don't. That I believe it? Because I don't know if I can."

The older man—Osric, as Elias had finally introduced him—watched in silence, his sharp gaze unreadable. "Understanding isn't necessary. The truth remains, whether you accept it or not."

Aedric let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. "You say that like it's simple. Like it's just another piece of information to file away." He looked up, eyes dark with something Elias couldn't quite place. "But it isn't, is it? Because if this is true, if I really did break the cycle, then that means—"

"That means you've failed," Osric interrupted, his voice quiet but firm. "Over. And over. And over again."

Aedric's jaw clenched. He didn't need to be told that. He could feel it, in the ache of his bones, in the heaviness of something missing inside him. The weight of forgotten attempts, lost memories, a struggle he didn't even remember fighting.

Elias leaned forward, his expression unusually serious. "But if we know this, then maybe this time—"

"No," Osric said, shaking his head. "That's what you always say."

Elias stilled. Aedric looked between them, confusion settling in. "What do you mean?"

Osric sighed, rubbing his temples. "I mean, you two have been here before. In this exact situation. More times than I can count. Every time, you think this is the time you'll figure it out. The time you'll break free." He looked at Aedric. "But you don't. You forget. And the cycle starts again."

Silence stretched between them. How many times had they sat here like this? How many times had he failed?

Aedric exhaled, shaking his head. "Then tell me something different. If the cycle resets, if I keep forgetting, why do you remember?"

Osric's lips pressed into a thin line. "Because I was never part of it."

Part 2: The Village and the Players

The conversation ended on uneasy terms. Aedric had asked more questions, but Osric had given little more than vague warnings. Not yet, not yet, not yet. The answers were always just beyond reach.

Frustration burned in his chest, but Elias had insisted they step outside, away from the weight of the conversation. "We need to breathe," he had said. Aedric wasn't sure if he meant that literally or metaphorically, but he followed him anyway.

The village was quiet, a soft evening breeze carrying the scent of wet grass and burning wood. Aedric hadn't paid much attention to the people here before, too caught in his own mind, but now, as they walked, he took in the faces of those who lived here.

They weren't many—no more than twenty, perhaps thirty at most. Most were older, their hands rough from work, their expressions weathered by something beyond time. A few younger ones moved through the narrow paths between homes, eyes sharp, as if waiting for something to happen.

Elias seemed familiar with some of them, exchanging nods, muttered greetings. But Aedric could feel it—the way they watched him. Not with fear, not quite. But with knowing.

At the far edge of the village, near a wooden fence overlooking the valley, a woman stood alone, arms crossed. She was tall, wrapped in a thick cloak, dark hair falling in loose waves around her face. Her gaze was fixed on the horizon, but as they neared, she turned slightly, her piercing blue eyes settling on Aedric with unmistakable curiosity.

"You must be him," she said.

Aedric stopped a few steps away, tensing. "Him?"

"The one Elias won't shut up about." Her lips curled into a faint smirk. "I was beginning to think you were a ghost."

Elias let out a short, tired sigh. "Aedric, meet Rhea. If anyone in this village knows more than they should, it's her."

Rhea's smirk deepened, but there was something else in her eyes—something measured, cautious. "Oh, I don't know about that," she said. "But I do know one thing."

Aedric raised a brow. "And what's that?"

She tilted her head slightly, as if studying him. Then, she said, "You should have stayed dead."

Aedric's breath stilled. The words weren't a threat. They weren't spoken with malice. They were a fact.

Elias's expression darkened. "Rhea—"

She held up a hand. "I mean no offense. But he should know what's coming.They know he's here now. And they won't let him leave."

Aedric's pulse quickened. "Who?"

Before Rhea could answer, another voice cut through the air—a low, sharp whistle from further down the path.

They turned toward the sound. A man stood near one of the smaller houses, arms crossed. A hunter, by the look of him—tall, broad-shouldered, his cloak lined with the furs of beasts Aedric didn't recognize. His expression was unreadable, but something about him put Aedric on edge.

"They're here," the hunter said simply.

Elias tensed beside him. Rhea's smirk faded.

Aedric's fingers twitched.

The calm had lasted too long.

A storm was coming.

And this time, there would be no running.