The House That Remembers

Chapter 21: The House That Remembers

They followed the shard's guidance northwest—though "northwest" meant little in the Netherveil, where compasses spun and stars reoriented like they were watching.

After the battle with the Watchers, Noah had trouble sleeping. Every time he shut his eyes, he saw shadows standing at the edges of his thoughts, their voices whispering in half-formed memories—one of which he no longer owned.

By the second day, the terrain shifted again.

Gone were the twisted forests and floating stones.

Now they crossed a barren, windless moor blanketed in ash and old bones. In the distance, black mountains scraped the sky, and something flickered in the corner of Noah's vision every time he turned his head.

"This place gives me the creeps," Riven muttered, gripping the hilt of his blade.

Noah nodded. "Feels like we're walking into someone else's nightmare."

Lyra paused suddenly.

"There," she said, pointing.

At first, Noah saw nothing. Then—slowly—it appeared.

A house.

Not ruined. Not shattered. Whole.

Just… wrong.

It stood alone in the wasteland, perfectly intact. A three-story Victorian-style manor with cracked windows and a front door hanging half open. Time hadn't touched it. The wind didn't disturb it. The shadows avoided it.

But Noah couldn't look away.

"I know this place," he whispered.

Lyra gave him a sharp look. "You shouldn't."

Noah stepped forward without meaning to.

"I've been here. In dreams."

The shard in his pocket pulsed.

It was here.

The fifth shard was inside.

They approached slowly, and the air grew thick—not just with silence, but with memory. The kind you didn't remember having until you smelled a place again. The scent of old wood and candle wax. Ink and burnt toast. Childhood smells.

Noah reached the porch. The front door groaned open on its own.

Inside was dark, but not empty.

The walls were lined with pictures. Most were blurred, the faces scratched out or missing entirely. But a few remained.

Noah stopped in front of one.

It showed a boy.

Him.

Ten years old. Standing in this hallway. Smiling.

Behind him stood a woman with silver eyes.

"Mom…" he whispered.

The memory cracked something open.

"I did live here," he said.

Lyra stepped forward, frowning. "It's not real. Echoes can twist memories. Feed you images from people you've never met."

"No," Noah said. "This one's mine."

They moved deeper.

Rooms flickered between states—one moment dusty and dead, the next filled with warmth and color, like they were slipping between past and present.

In the study, a music box played a familiar tune—one Noah couldn't name, but knew by heart.

At the top of the stairs, a door waited.

Behind it: the shard.

But as Noah reached for the handle, a voice behind him spoke.

Soft. Familiar.

"Noah?"

He turned.

The woman was there again. Arin Vale.

Only… different.

Younger. Not like the echo in the Vault. She looked… human.

Whole.

"Mom?" he asked.

Her eyes were sad. "You're not supposed to be here yet."

Lyra stepped between them. "Back away. That's not her."

"She's not hostile," Riven said, narrowing his eyes. "Yet."

The woman reached out. "I'm a memory," she said. "But I was left here. For you."

Noah froze. "Why?"

"Because there will be a moment," she said, "when all of this falls apart. When you won't know who you are anymore. And I needed to remind you."

"Remind me of what?"

She stepped closer. "You were born with the Sight. But it was never meant to be a weapon. It was meant to be a bridge."

"To what?"

She smiled softly. "To everything that's been forgotten."

Behind him, the door clicked.

The shard called.

Arin's image began to fade.

"One last thing," she said. "The sixth shard… isn't waiting. It's running. And it's afraid of you."

Then she vanished, like mist in sunlight.

Noah opened the door.

Inside, the fifth shard floated above a bed carved from black marble.

He stepped forward, and this time—he didn't hesitate.

The moment he touched it, the house groaned, shuddered, then screamed.

The memory had ended.

The dream collapsed.

And the world outside warped again.

This time, the sky rained mirrors.