Chains of the Forgotten

The forest was silent.

Only the faint rustle of leaves stirred in the misty gloom as Liora knelt by the ashen remains of the revenant. Her fingers trembled slightly as she traced the brittle fragments of bone that had not yet scattered with the wind.

The ground was damp beneath her knees, but she hardly noticed. Her eyes were locked on the faint violet shimmer clinging to the broken remains—the lingering essence of her magic still clinging to the dust.

Her breathing was slow. Unsteady.

Her heart still pounded violently in her chest, and she could feel the sharp ache of shame twisting in her ribs.

She had wanted to command him.

She had nearly let him rise again.

And she had known, in that brief, terrible moment, that she wouldn't have stopped at just one.

The others would have followed.

She could have called them forth.

She could have drowned the forest in the dead.

And she would have reveled in it.

Her fingers curled slightly in the dirt.

She clenched her jaw, swallowing back the sharp sting rising in her throat. She could still feel the bone warden's power coursing faintly through her veins—the distant, lingering warmth of the souls she had consumed.

But there was no comfort in it.

Only emptiness.

A twig snapped behind her.

Liora's hand flew instinctively to the dagger at her hip, and she spun sharply, rising to her feet. Her magic flickered to life at her fingertips, violet fire licking faintly along her knuckles.

But it was only Alaric.

His dark eyes narrowed slightly as he stepped through the mist, his boots pressing softly into the damp earth. His hand hovered cautiously near the hilt of his sword, but he didn't draw it.

For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.

Alaric's gaze drifted over the ashes still clinging to Liora's fingertips. His sharp eyes flicked toward the faint haze of necromantic residue still lingering in the air.

His expression hardened slightly.

"You shouldn't be out here alone," he said flatly. His voice was low, almost dispassionate, but she could hear the sharp edge in it.

Liora's grip on the dagger loosened slightly, but she didn't lower her hand.

"I needed air," she muttered. Her voice came out hollow, barely above a whisper.

Alaric's gaze lingered on her face, but he didn't move closer. The tension in his posture didn't ease.

"Selene woke up and saw you were gone," he said. "She thought you'd—" He stopped short.

But he didn't need to finish the sentence.

Liora's stomach clenched slightly. She knew exactly what he had been about to say.

She thought you'd run.

Or worse.

Her fingers curled slightly into her palm.

"I'm fine," she muttered.

Alaric's eyes narrowed. Cold. Searching.

"No," he said sharply. "You're not."

For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.

Liora felt the words sticking in her throat, heavy and jagged, but she swallowed them down. She couldn't meet his eyes.

She could feel the faint tremor still lingering in her fingertips, the raw, unsteady current of magic still clinging to her skin. Her veins still ached with it.

Alaric took a slow step closer. His hand drifted slightly from his sword, but his voice was cautious.

"You saw something," he said quietly. His tone wasn't demanding. It wasn't harsh.

But it was unrelenting.

Liora's jaw tightened. She slowly turned her back to him, her eyes drifting toward the blackened remnants of the revenant.

For a brief moment, she considered lying.

But she didn't.

Her voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke.

"One of them came back," she said softly.

Alaric's expression hardened. His shoulders stiffened slightly, and his hand drifted back toward his sword.

"A revenant?" he asked.

Liora nodded faintly, her arms wrapping loosely around herself. She barely noticed the faint chill of the wind pressing through the trees, biting against her skin.

"It wasn't a summoning," she muttered. "I didn't call it."

She swallowed sharply. Her throat tightened faintly, but she forced the words out.

"It came on its own."

For a moment, Alaric didn't move.

His eyes narrowed sharply, his gaze flicking back toward the ashes. His expression was unreadable, but Liora could see the faint flicker of calculation behind his eyes.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low.

"That shouldn't be possible."

Liora's fingers dug into her arms, her nails biting into the skin beneath her cloak.

She knew that.

She knew it shouldn't be possible.

But she had still watched it happen. She had seen the violet fire in the revenant's eyes—the same flame that burned in her own. She had heard his voice call to her, the echoes of his soul still bound to hers.

And she had felt it—the part of her that wanted him to stay.

Alaric's eyes narrowed. His voice hardened slightly.

"You didn't command it," he said. "But it still came back to you."

Liora's throat tightened. She slowly turned to face him, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.

"It wasn't just him," she said softly. Her voice was barely a whisper, but she knew he heard it.

Her eyes lifted slowly to meet his.

"I could feel them," she rasped. "All of them."

The words hung heavily between them.

Alaric's face was blank. Emotionless. Guarded. But his fingers curled slightly over the hilt of his sword.

And for a brief moment, Liora thought he might draw it.

She stepped forward slightly.

Her hands were still trembling faintly, but she didn't look away. She held his gaze, even when she felt her throat closing.

"I can't control it," she muttered. Her voice was low. Raw. Bare.

She shook her head faintly, blinking against the sting in her eyes. Her chest tightened sharply.

"They're still with me, Alaric." Her voice cracked faintly. "Even when I let them go. Even when I—"

Her voice caught. Her breath shook slightly, but she forced herself to hold his gaze.

"They're still there," she whispered.

Her eyes burned faintly, but she didn't blink. She didn't look away.

She could see the tension in Alaric's jaw, the faint flicker of his throat as he swallowed faintly.

And then, finally, he stepped closer.

His hand moved slowly—cautiously—but he didn't reach for his sword.

Instead, he reached for her hand.

His fingers curled lightly around hers, easing the tension from her clenched fists. His grip was warm and steady, and for a brief moment, Liora could feel the faint, steady pulse of his heartbeat against her skin.

And when he spoke, his voice was low, but steady.

"Then you'll learn to control it."

Liora blinked sharply. Her breath hitched slightly, but Alaric's grip didn't loosen.

"You're not going to let it break you," he said evenly. His voice was firm. Unwavering. "Not tonight."

Her fingers curled slightly into his, her grip trembling faintly.

And slowly, she exhaled.