The world was quiet.
Not cold. Not harsh.
Just… still.
Caleb stood beneath a tree. Its trunk was pale as ashwood, its branches sprawling across a sky so soft it looked painted. Snow fell gently—warm snow, somehow—dissolving before it touched the ground. Somewhere nearby, water trickled. Birds sang. The air smelled faintly of honey and pine.
And on a stone bench beneath the tree sat a woman.
Her hair flowed like liquid gold over her shoulders, pooling at her lap. A robe of radiant white, lined with threads of sunlight, wrapped around her like a second skin. Her face was calm. Regal. Kind. She watched him with eyes full of aching sorrow and timeless peace.
Caleb didn't move.
"Who… are you?" he asked.
The woman smiled, not with her lips but with her entire being. "Nyssara."
The name made his chest tighten. He remembered her shadow, the death of Orven, and then nothing.
She turned to the side. The scene shifted. The tree and bench remained, but now behind her, the ruined church stood tall and unbroken, its windows stained with vibrant light. On the steps, a black casket rested.
Nyssara turned back to him.
"Thank you," she said. "For laying my body to rest beside him. You could have left. But you didn't."
Caleb frowned. "He… was the skeleton in the coffin?"
She nodded. "My husband. My beloved. My shield. We were orphans, once. Strangers to the world, but never to each other. Wherever I went, he followed. Whenever he faltered, I stood. We made a vow. We would protect each other until our last breath."
Her voice grew quieter, gentler. "I became a witch. He, a warrior. Together, we became feared and respected. And that… was what doomed us."
Her eyes lowered.
"The church saw him as a threat. They sent him on a mission no man should return from. He knew it. And he went anyway. For them. For me."
Her hand rested gently atop the stone bench.
"When the casket returned… I did not believe it. I waited by his side. Refused to let them bury him. I cursed the priests. Cursed the gods. The cold crept in. Day by day, it chipped away at my mind, until I was no longer myself."
A bitter smile touched her lips.
"I became the thing that kept others from disturbing him. A monster. A guardian. But not for love… for madness."
She looked up again, locking eyes with Caleb.
"You ended it."
He felt his throat tighten. "I didn't know. I just—"
She held up a hand. "You don't need to explain. You did what no one else would. You gave us rest. And for that… I walk with you now. I will not let your flame be snuffed out. Not while I still linger."
The dream faded.
Her warmth remained.
Caleb woke with a gasp.
He was back in his hut.
The fire was low but still alive. His limbs ached. Bandages wrapped around his chest and arm—hastily done, but effective. His robe lay folded near the wall. The fur lining smelled faintly of stone and ash.
He didn't remember coming back.
Did Nyssara carry him?
He sat up slowly, glancing at the interface. A new tab blinked faintly: Spirit Companion: Nyssara (Dormant).
Outside, the wind howled. But inside, he was warm. Alive.
And no longer alone.
End of the 19th chapter.