The Weight of Memory

Day 14 – The Last Pillar

A cold wind howled through the ruins of Eterna as Eris and Ash stepped onto the floating path.

The bridge beneath them wasn't solid—it was a shifting assembly of black stone and frozen glass, suspended over a yawning abyss. With every step forward, echoes of the past flickered around them—ghostly figures moving through a city that no longer existed.

They had reached the city's heart. The details from the Knowledge Record had led them here.

Above the abyss, the Last Pillar loomed. It was unlike anything they had seen before—an enormous obelisk of fractured glass and obsidian, floating weightlessly, its edges bleeding mist and light.

"Who would have thought that Eterna had such a place left?"Eris mused.

"This must've been an important gateway once. Now, it's just another ruin."

"But still," Eris hesitated.

"Don't jinx it"

This was it. The final key to escaping Eterna.

Eris pressed her fingers against the empty air, letting her magic flow. A soft hum vibrated through her fingertips as the first step shimmered into existence—a smooth, pale-blue platform, slightly translucent, floating just above the void below.

She stepped onto it without hesitation, her boots making no sound against its surface.

Ash stood beside her, arms crossed as he eyed the conjured pathway with mild skepticism. "You sure this will hold?"

Eris scoffed, already forming the next step. "You doubt me?"

"I doubt anything that defies gravity this easily," he muttered, stepping onto the first platform behind her. It held firm.

Satisfied, Eris continued creating more steps, one after another, forming a winding staircase that curved up toward the floating obelisk. They moved quickly, Ash following a few paces behind. The Last Pillar loomed above, ominous and silent, its surface marred by time and elements unknown.

Then, just as Eris was about to form another step, she hesitated. The air felt… wrong.

The first step beneath them darkened. Frost spread from its edges, creeping outward like veins of ice, the once-solid surface turning brittle and delicate.

Ash cursed. "It's freezing over."

Eris clenched her jaw and willed the magic to hold, but the ice only grew faster, slithering toward them. The cold licked at her ankles.

"Damn it—" Ash exhaled sharply and lifted his hand, golden runes flashing to life around his fingers. The frost on the steps flickered, then slowed, as if caught in a moment of hesitation. "Five minutes," he said, voice strained. "That's all I can buy you at a time."

Eris gave a curt nod. "Then we'll just have to move faster."

She quickened her pace, conjuring the steps one after another. The frozen edges spread the moment she made them, but Ash kept time at bay, holding the decay at its edge. They moved in bursts—Eris rushing ahead, Ash delaying the inevitable, both pushing against the silent, creeping force that sought to drag them down.

Between bursts of focus, Ash let out a rough chuckle. "This is terrible."

Eris shot him a glare. "I'm literally building us a floating staircase, and you're complaining?"

"No, I mean…" He gestured vaguely at the ice, his free hand shaking slightly from the strain of holding time still. "The universe really just loves making us suffer, huh?"

Eris almost laughed. Almost. But instead, she swallowed the bitterness in her throat and kept her focus. Because he wasn't wrong. The universe had never been kind to either of them.

The Last Pillar waited above, unmoving. Eris didn't know what would be waiting for them inside, but one thing was certain— they would face it anyway.

The last step solidified beneath Eris's feet, though frost had already begun to crawl toward its edges. She and Ash hurried onto the floating platform at the base of the Last Pillar, the cold nipping at their heels.

The entrance stood before them—an enormous, smooth mirror stretching from the ground to the upper reaches of the obelisk. Its surface was impossibly clear, reflecting not just their images but something deeper—shadows shifting behind their reflections, memories waiting just beyond the glass.

Eris exhaled, her breath fogging slightly. "A mirror? That's it?"

Ash stepped closer, eyeing his reflection warily. "Something's wrong with it."

Their reflections did not move in sync.

Eris raised a hand, and her mirror self hesitated before following. Ash shifted his weight, and his reflection lingered for just a fraction too long. It was subtle, but undeniable.

Eris narrowed her eyes. "It's watching us."

Before Ash could respond, the mirror rippled. A deep pull wrenched at Eris's chest, like unseen hands had wrapped around her ribs and yanked her forward.

The world blurred.

Then—

She was standing in the Royal Induction Hall.

Eris inhaled sharply, the scent of polished wood and burning incense flooding her senses. The grand hall stretched before her, lined with high, arched windows that let golden light spill across the marble floor. Banners of the royal family's crest fluttered above, and rows of nobles stood in ceremonial silence.

At the front of the hall, her father, King Alistair, sat upon his throne.

Beside him stood her brothers—Fabian and Avrain—dressed in their formal regalia, backs straight, heads high. They looked every bit the perfect heirs. The kingdom's future.

No one looked at her.

Eris's stomach twisted. She knew this moment. It was the day her brothers were officially inducted into their royal responsibilities, while she—

She had stood in the background, an afterthought.

She turned, scanning the room, searching for her younger self. There—near the edge of the gathering, barely within the candlelight—she saw herself.

A younger Eris, standing alone, hands clenched at her sides. Watching. Hoping. Waiting for someone to acknowledge her.

But no one did.

Fabian was praised for his combat prowess, Avrain for his sharp intellect. The court whispered of their bright futures, their strengths, their promise.

And Eris?

"She has a supportive role," one of the nobles murmured. "A useful enough magic, but hardly remarkable."

"She'll make a fine assistant to the kingdom's scholars," another said dismissively.

A fine assistant.

Her chest ached. She had tried so hard—studied, trained, honed what little magic she had—and still, she was merely useful. Never exceptional.

She turned away from the scene, a lump forming in her throat. This isn't real. She knew that. Knew this was a memory, a trap, a reflection meant to ensnare her in the past.

But it still hurt.

She clenched her fists, forcing herself to breathe. I am not that girl anymore.

The moment she acknowledged it, the scene began to crack. Like glass shattering, the hall fractured at the edges, the voices distorting into echoes.

She turned, and suddenly—

---

Ash's Memory

A sudden, gut-wrenching pull tore Ash from the frozen ruins.

His breath hitched—one moment, he was standing in the cold, the next, warmth surrounded him. The scent of burning wood filled his nose.

A flickering light danced across his vision. His boots, once crunching against ice, now pressed into smooth wooden floors.

Ash was no longer at the Last Pillar. He was standing in a sunlit room, the soft scent of lavender and warm bread filling the air.

Home.

His chest tightened.

The wooden table in the center of the room was set for two. A steaming pot of tea sat untouched, the chair across from him empty. His mother's chair.

A voice—soft, warm, familiar.

" Steve?"

He turned sharply.

There she was. His mother.

She stood at the counter, her back to him as she kneaded dough, the morning light catching the strands of her hair. She looked exactly as he remembered—before everything had gone wrong, before she had died, before he had been forced into his father's world.

Ash's breath caught.

This wasn't real. He knew it wasn't real.

But gods, he wanted it to be.

His fingers twitched at his sides. If I just stay here—

She turned, smiling at him. "You're home early."

Ash felt something in his chest crack.

He wanted to answer. Wanted to say something. But his throat closed, and before he could speak—

The warmth began to fade.

The room darkened, shadows creeping in from the edges. His mother's smile wavered.

Ash's hands curled into fists.

No.

He had spent years trying to bring her back, trying to undo what had happened. But the past could not be rewritten.

His mother was gone.

The moment he accepted it, the illusion collapsed.

Ash and Eris stumbled out of the mirror's grip, gasping as they landed back at the base of the Last Pillar. The world around them was solid once more, the reflection gone.

Ash didn't speak. His jaw was tight, his breath unsteady.

Eris didn't ask.

She, too, was reeling—from the ache of being forgotten, from the pain of memories that still clung to her like a second skin.

They sat in silence for a moment.

Then, Ash exhaled and pushed himself up. "Let's go."

Eris nodded. They didn't need words. They understood each other's pain in ways no one else could.

And so, without looking back, they moved forward.