chapter 9: The One Who Remembers
The silence after the clash was unnatural.
Not the hush of peace—but the vacuum that follows something broken.
Cael stood in the center of the collapsed garden courtyard, blood on his knuckles, ash in his breath, and none of it felt real. Not the shattered marble tiles beneath his feet. Not the faint moans of soldiers writhing in pain. Not even the sword humming in his grip—so loud it was almost alive.
But it wasn't the aftermath of battle that disturbed him.
It was how easy it had been.
He had fought like he was made for it.
Like something inside him remembered.
---
Veylan groaned from beneath the rubble, half his body pinned under a crumbled pillar. Cael rushed to him, lifting the debris with almost no effort. Veylan blinked up at him, dazed.
"You okay?" Cael asked, crouching low.
Veylan coughed, spat blood, and gave a half-smile. "I should be dead."
Cael didn't smile back. He only looked at his own hands—still trembling. Still hot.
"I think I killed them all."
"You did," said a voice behind him.
Seliora.
She stepped forward through the smoke, cloak torn, eyes wide but not with fear—with certainty.
"You're remembering."
---
They dragged Veylan into an abandoned wing of the old palace—one Diana had declared "unfit for rebuilding." The walls were scorched. The windows shattered. Time had made its home here, and dust lay thick like snowfall.
Seliora lit the old lanterns.
Cael stood near the broken fireplace, arms crossed, head low.
"I keep seeing things," he muttered. "Memories that aren't mine."
Seliora didn't speak.
He continued, fists clenched.
"I was on a battlefield. Not here. Somewhere else. Everything was glass and gold and floating in the sky. There was a woman screaming. I think... I think she was falling apart."
Seliora finally nodded.
"You're not wrong."
Cael turned to her sharply. "What the hell does that mean?"
But she didn't answer—not yet.
She knelt by Veylan, tending to his wounds with old cloth and herbs.
Cael moved closer. "You said something earlier. About me remembering."
"I did," she replied calmly.
"So tell me what I'm remembering."
She tied the cloth tighter around Veylan's shoulder. "Not yet."
"Why not?!"
Seliora stood.
Her voice dropped like a blade: "Because once you know... you can't unknow. And I don't think you're ready."
---
Night fell like a veil.
They stayed hidden.
Veylan drifted into sleep, breathing shallow but steady.
Seliora remained seated by the cracked window, eyes on the moon.
Cael approached her in the darkness.
"You're afraid of me."
She didn't deny it.
"I'm afraid for you," she said.
Cael leaned against the window frame beside her, watching the city burn in the distance. Diana's palace shimmered in the heart of it all—untouched, gleaming, and cruel.
"She did something to me," he said.
Seliora exhaled, slow and long. "Yes."
"I used to know who I was."
"Yes."
"But I don't anymore."
She turned to face him. Her voice was quieter now, like speaking the truth aloud might summon something ancient.
"You still do. Somewhere inside. But she's buried it. Layer by layer."
"Why?"
"Because the real you... would destroy her."
---
FLASHBACK:
A younger Seliora stands in a library of spiraling stone towers.
She reads a forbidden scroll with trembling hands.
A glowing sigil on the page pulses. It's not in any language she's ever known, but the meaning is clear.
> "There will be three. One bound in fire. One broken in will. One untouched by time.
When they converge, the Lie will unravel."
She gasps.
And then the guards burst in.
The scroll is ripped away. She's dragged to the floor.
But the words burn into her memory forever.
---
Back in the ruined palace, Cael sits in silence.
Then he mutters, "I don't think she's afraid of me."
Seliora's eyes meet his. "She should be."
"She touches me like I'm hers."
"Because she made you believe it."
"I don't believe it anymore."
She stands.
Then, after a moment: "Come with me."
---
They travel through underground passages—old tunnels beneath Celestria the people have long forgotten. Seliora leads him through vaults of dust and bone. Cael walks slowly, his footsteps louder than they should be. Something inside him pulses like a second heartbeat. It's not pain. It's not fear.
It's recognition.
They reach a sealed iron door. She places her hand on the lock, and it burns away with blue fire.
They enter.
The chamber inside is alive.
Starlight veins run through the walls like lightning frozen in glass. The air smells like old prayers.
And on the far wall—a mural.
Cael stops in his tracks.
---
It's him.
He knows it's him.
Not just a painting. Not just a story.
It's a memory.
A cloaked figure wreathed in light, standing in a city made of sky and gold. Behind him are stars. In front of him—a spiral tearing open reality itself.
And at the edges of the painting... Diana.
Her face twisted in love and hatred both.
Cael stares at it, heart pounding.
"I don't understand."
Seliora steps beside him.
"Because this isn't the world you were born in."
---
She tells him everything.
About Nareth. About the stars that walked like gods. About how he wasn't a knight. Or a prince.
But a guardian of time.
A protector of dreams.
He had stood at the gate of reality, watching over the flow of existence itself. And Diana—born of a lesser moon—wanted more. She wanted power, immortality, worship. She couldn't take it from the stars... but she could take it from him.
And she did.
She fractured the timeline.
Rebuilt a kingdom.
Caged a goddess.
Erased his memories.
Turned him into her blade.
Cael's legs nearly give out.
He grabs the edge of the mural to steady himself.
"Why me?"
Seliora's voice is almost a whisper. "Because she loved you."
Cael laughs bitterly.
"Then why does it feel like I've been hollow ever since I met her?"
---
Somewhere far above, Diana wakes from a dream.
She walks barefoot through her empty chamber, wind curling through the open arches. She stops in front of the mirror.
Cael's face lingers in her thoughts.
She whispers, "You're slipping away from me."
Her reflection smiles—but it's not her own.
It's the Goddess.
And for a moment, just one terrible moment, Diana looks afraid.
---
Back in the underground sanctum, Cael is on his knees.
The mural pulses.
A spark of flame ignites in his palm.
Seliora gasps, stepping back. "It's starting."
"What is?"
"The return."
"You said if I remember... I'll burn."
"I did."
"And you kept this from me."
"To give you a choice."
He looks up at her, eyes glowing faintly.
"Then why do I feel like I never had one?"
Seliora looks away.
Because deep down...
She fears he's right.
---
They return to Veylan hours later.
He's awake. And waiting.
He doesn't ask what happened.
He just says, "You look different."
Cael glances at his hand—still faintly warm.
"I feel different."
Seliora says nothing.
She knows this is just the beginning.
The memories will return.
The fire will grow.
And the choice will come:
Will Cael destroy the lie… or protect it?
---
Far beneath the palace, the chained Goddess stirs.
Her lips part with ancient breath.
Her voice is a broken melody.
"One remembers."
She lifts her chained arms.
"One resists."
The chains crack slightly.
"And the third..."
Her eyes blaze open—white and endless.
"...is almost here."