The Valerborne study was quiet.
Too quiet.
Lioren stood before the floating scroll—its edges black as void, trimmed with faint violet flames. It pulsed once, twice, like a heartbeat trying to sync with his own. The room smelled faintly of incense and dust. His fingers twitched.
He didn't want to touch it.
But he already had.
And now, it was unraveling him.
---
The room vanished.
---
He was standing in a hallway bathed in moonlight, breathing hard. He was younger—ten, maybe. His arms were scratched. His clothes torn. Behind him, a door was thrown open, the hinges screaming in warning.
> "They're here!"
"Thrian , we have to run!"
She was small, barely seven, wild red curls tangled with soot. Elaria. But young—different. Eyes wide with fear.
Her hands were slick with blood.
Not hers.
> "Where's your father?" he asked, panting.
She shook her head. "They took him. They took everyone."
Footsteps. Screams in the distance. Metal clashing. A sob echoing down the corridor.
> "I got you," he whispered. He grabbed her hand. "Don't look back."
They ran.
Down staircases slick with ash, through shattered halls. Smoke burned his lungs. She tripped. He picked her up. He was shaking.
> "Almost there. Just hold on."
They burst into the garden, the escape tunnel just ahead.
But a shadow was faster.
Thrian was ripped from her hand by a massive figure—one of them. His back slammed into the stone, a cry ripping from his throat.
> "TH—!"
"Go!" he shouted, voice cracking. "Don't stop, just run!"
She stood there, eyes locked with his, crying.
> "TH—!"
"RUN, ELARIA!"
And she did.
He smiled through the pain. Even as they dragged him back. Even as her flame flickered once in the distance. Even as they tied his hands behind his back.
Even as they made him watch.
They set her home ablaze.
And he believed she was still inside.
---
The vision shattered.
---
Lioren hit the floor hard, gasping, body trembling. His knuckles scraped the marble. His breath came in ragged pulls like he'd been drowning for hours.
He blinked.
There was a name on his lips he hadn't meant to say.
> "Elaria…"
"Who the fuck was elaria ?"
"Why do I feel like I was thrian? "
"Is she on this life?"
These questions flooded his head
He sat up slowly, eyes wide with something close to horror—like he'd seen a ghost that bled.
He had seen a ghost.
It was him
> "She was my best friend."
> "And I let her burn."
" I swear elaria , if you are really in this life wearing another face , I'll find you and I'd rather let the world burn than let them burn us again "
---
The scroll hovered in the air like it had done nothing.
But something inside him had split wide open.
He stood shakily, wiping his face with the back of his hand, not even realizing it was wet.
A maid peeked into the room.
"Are you…?"
> "I'm great," he said dryly. "Just relived my worst memory and realized I have soul trauma. Five stars. Wouldn't recommend."
She looked uncertain.
He offered her the faintest smirk.
> "Don't worry. I've been broken before. I know where all the cracks are."
---
Outside, the wind howled softly over Valerborne estate.
Inside, the shadow boy stood straighter than usual.
And somewhere far off—Seraphina stirred in her sleep.
Because some flames remember.
But some shadows never forget.