The mist thickened with every step, coiling around them like living things, whispering secrets too soft to hear.
The broken sword was heavy in her arms, though she had wrapped it carefully to keep it from drawing the attention of whatever else lurked in these forgotten woods.
Beside her, the shadow moved in silence, his presence steady yet strangely distant.
She watched him from the corner of her eye as they walked.
There was something different about him now.
Not colder.
But... frayed.
As if carrying her pain had unraveled him in ways she could not yet see.
She gripped the bundle tighter.
"Talk to me," she said softly.
He glanced at her, a flicker of something crossing the veil of darkness that always masked his face.
"What would you have me say?"
"Anything."
He walked a few more paces in silence, then spoke, voice lower than she had ever heard it.
"When you chose to strike me down, I did not hate you."
She faltered, heart lurching painfully.
"I hated myself," he continued.
"For not being strong enough to save you from making that choice."
She stopped in her tracks, turning to him fully.
"That's not fair."
"No," he said. "It isn't."
The mist curled between them, a living veil.
She reached for him instinctively, fingertips brushing the edge of his sleeve.
"You saved me," she said fiercely. "You saved the part of me that could still hope."
He didn't flinch from her touch, but neither did he move closer.
"You carried the light," he said. "I was only the shadow that followed it."
"No," she said, gripping his sleeve tighter. "You were more than that. You are more than that."
The mist trembled around them, the forest holding its breath.
He lifted a hand hesitant, slow and touched her cheek.
His hand was warm. Solid.
Pain and tenderness warred in his dark eyes.
"You gave up everything," she whispered.
"So did you," he murmured.
They stood there in the mist, two broken halves struggling to find the shape of each other again.
A sound tore through the stillness a low, keening wail that seemed to rise from the earth itself.
She jerked her head toward the sound.
"What was that?"
He dropped his hand, all softness vanishing in an instant.
"They've found us."
"Who?"
He pulled her close, pressing her against his chest, his cloak wrapping around her like a shield.
"Not all memories wish to be remembered," he said grimly.
The wail grew louder, joined by the rustle of something vast moving through the trees.
She clutched the broken sword tighter.
"What do we do?"
"We run," he said.
Without another word, he seized her hand and took off into the mist, pulling her along with a strength born of desperation.
The forest twisted around them, the path vanishing, reappearing, vanishing again.
Branches clawed at her cloak, thorns tore at her legs, but she didn't dare let go of him.
Behind them, shapes began to form in the mist
Hollow-eyed figures, faces twisted in anguish, their mouths open in silent screams.
She stumbled, almost falling, but he caught her, lifting her effortlessly.
"They're memories," she gasped.
"No," he said, voice like iron. "They're what memory leaves behind when it rots."
They burst into a clearing, the mist parting for a moment to reveal a crumbling archway half-buried in vines.
Without hesitation, he pulled her through it.
The instant they crossed the threshold, the howling stopped.
The mist recoiled, the shadows withdrawing like a tide pulled by unseen moons.
She collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath.
He knelt beside her, his cloak spreading over both of them.
For a long moment, they said nothing, the only sound their ragged breathing.
Finally, she looked up at him.
"What were they?" she asked, voice raw.
"Regrets," he said simply.
She shivered.
He brushed a strand of hair from her face with surprising gentleness.
"They cannot cross into this place," he said.
"Why not?"
"Because this is where you first made your vow."
She stared at the ancient stones around them, half-remembered words stirring in her chest.
A vow.
A promise.
Something more binding than blood or magic.
And as she listened, she realized the stones were singing
Faint. Broken.
But still alive.
The broken song rose from the stones in slow, wavering breaths.
She pressed her palm against the nearest one, feeling the faint thrum of ancient magic buried deep within.
The pulse matched her own heartbeat.
Slow. Painful. Real.
"What vow did I make here?" she whispered.
He sat beside her, cloak pooling on the ground, gaze fixed on the stones that once bore witness to their past.
"That no matter what you lost," he said quietly, "you would never lose yourself."
She closed her eyes.
The weight of that promise settled over her shoulders like a second cloak.
A heavier one.
One she had abandoned without even realizing.
She turned to him.
"I failed."
"No," he said.
The word was soft, but it struck with the force of a blade turned gentle by mercy.
"You forgot. That is not the same."
Tears burned at the back of her throat.
She hated how easily he forgave her.
She hated how much she wanted him to.
"I don't deserve this," she choked out.
He reached for her hand, his fingers rough with scars unseen but deeply felt.
When he touched her, the stones flared with a soft violet glow, as if remembering too.
He didn't pull her closer.
He didn't demand her grief or her guilt.
He simply held her hand in the dark and waited.
And somehow, that was worse.
And better.
She leaned into him, resting her forehead against his shoulder.
The broken sword between them, forgotten for a moment.
They sat there together, two shattered things trying to build a new shape from old pieces.
The stones sang on, their fractured hymn weaving around them like a lullaby for the lost.
After a long while, she whispered, "If I lose myself again…"
He answered without hesitation.
"I will find you again."
Her breath hitched.
He shifted slightly, pulling something from beneath his cloak.
A chain.
Silver, tarnished, delicate.
At its end hung a shard of crystal, cracked but still holding a faint inner light.
He pressed it into her hand.
"What is it?" she asked.
"A piece of your first light," he said. "A reminder."
She stared at the crystal, feeling its warmth seep into her skin.
The fragment pulsed once, as if recognizing her.
She slipped the chain around her neck, the crystal settling over her heart.
It felt right.
As if it had never left her.
She looked up at him, something breaking free in her chest a gratitude too vast for words.
Instead, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
Light, trembling, full of all the things she could not say.
He closed his eyes, the faintest smile touching his lips.
And for a moment, there was no war.
No lost kingdoms.
No broken oaths.
Only two souls, battered and bleeding, choosing each other again beneath a sky that had not yet remembered how to hope.
When she pulled back, he opened his eyes and met hers.
Dark. Deep. Unbreakable.
"We move forward," she said, voice steady.
He nodded.
Together, they rose.
The mist receded before them.
The road ahead was still shrouded in shadow.
But she carried a shard of light now.
And he he carried her.
In ways she was only just beginning to understand.