We Remember

CHAPTER 1:
Marrowglass shimmered like a lie, polished white stone towers stretched across skybridges of glass, floating just high enough to pretend the rot below didn’t exist. The clouds cloaked everything beneath the city in soft silver. That’s how they liked it here: blurred, beautiful, bloodless.

And in the very center stood the Veil Tower.

It didn’t shimmer.
It didn’t pretend.

It rose like a black needle, carved from obsidian, humming with bound magic and dead memory. Every truth the city wanted to forget was sealed inside its walls. Wars rewritten, betrayals buried, names erased.

Faye stood guard on its north platform, spine straight, fingers numb inside spell-threaded gloves. Rain struck her armor in cold needles, collecting in silver runes etched down her arms. She didn’t move.

Storms brought clarity.
Noisy enough to silence thought. Sharp enough to cut through memory.
She liked them.
They didn’t whisper.

Unlike this tower.

They’d told her it was protection.
That forgetting was mercy.
That remembering would break her.

She remembered anyway.

Not everything. Just flashes.
A boy with wind in his hair.
Laughter in the dark, one hand on her wrist, the other in her hair.
A different voice. Cold, firm, final. "He’s gone. Don’t look back."

A pulse of wrongness rippled through the platform.

Faye’s breath caught. The air warped. A faint shimmer passed through her spell-armor, like a pressure wave… or a whisper.

She spun, hand on the hilt at her hip. No intruders. No movement.

And then—

“𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦.”

The words weren’t spoken aloud.
They struck inside her skull, sharp and intimate.

A corrupted spellwave.
Illegally cast. Unfiltered.
And somehow… it reached her inside the Veil perimeter.

And then the voice came again. Deeper. Lower. Rough like embers behind teeth.

“𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘮𝘦.”

Her sword leapt into her hand before she realized she'd drawn it. Her heartbeat thundered.

“𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴.”

That one shattered her.

She staggered back two steps, blade shaking in her grip.

It wasn’t possible.

The Veil didn’t let memories through. Not raw like this. Not… whole. Not in his voice. Not with that damn crooked cadence. That barely restrained laughter, like he was always half a second from kissing you or ruining everything.

He had ruined everything.

Flash—

His fingers brushing her cheekbone, soot under his nails.
"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦."
"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺," she’d whispered back.
"𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦."

Flash—

A sigil burning across his chest as he turned to face the Council’s troops.
His voice, "𝘙𝘶𝘯, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘙𝘶𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘸."

Flash—

Smoke. No body. No goodbye.

Now his voice was crawling through her skull like it never left.

The rain blurred. Her knees hit the obsidian with a crack. Still she clutched her blade. Like it could cut sound. Like it could cut him.

But she wasn’t shaking from fear.
She was shaking because for a second. Just one.
She felt like she was twenty again, burning with love, teeth gritted, alive in a way she hadn’t been in years.

He was dead.

He was dead.

He was dead.

Except… what if he wasn’t?

And if he wasn’t...
What was she supposed to do?



CHAPTER 2:
His voice still clung to her skin.

Faye sat alone in her quarters, armor stripped, hands wrapped in cloth from where she’d gripped her blade too tight. The storm outside had died, but inside her skull, it still raged. Flashes of memory, real and imagined, crashing over each other like waves.

She had told herself she’d buried him. But some things refuse to stay dead.

The spellwave shouldn’t have reached her. Not through Veil forged steel, not within the Tower's radius. But it had. And only one kind of magic could cut through those layers of silence.

Blood bound. Personal. Spoken with her name carved into it.

“𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴…”

He’d sent it to her.

Not to the Council. Not to the city. To her.

She lit a spellglass lantern and paced, eyes flicking to the edges of the room. Every surface here was sterile. Walls lined with enchantments designed to protect, or erase. Her bunk, perfectly made. Her boots still damp from the rain. Her reflection in the lantern glass looked unfamiliar.

Had it always been this clean in here?This… empty?

Three years ago, the world had ended for her they said..

Now, after three years of silence, she heard him again.

He was alive. And he remembered.

She moved to the far wall and pressed her palm against the seal glyph burned into the stone. It glowed dimly, then cracked open with a hiss. Inside: a hidden archive locker. One she wasn’t supposed to have.

Inside it lay a single file. No official seal. Just a name.

𝘒𝘢𝘪 𝘌𝘭𝘳𝘪𝘤.

She had always known the Council buried truth. But this wasn’t silence. This was surgery. Every affection, every rebellion, every flicker of dissent had been removed, not just from her, but from thousands. Maybe more. This wasn’t just to protect her.It was how they ruled.

Her fingers hovered over the first page. Her name was on it. Not in reference. As the author.

"𝚂𝚞𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝙵𝚊𝚢𝚎 𝙸𝚕𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚎. 𝙴𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚂𝚞𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝙴𝚕𝚛𝚒𝚌. 𝙼𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢-𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚌𝚘𝚕 𝚊𝚍𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚍. 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕-𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝙱𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍."

Her blood went cold.

A note in the margin read, "𝑀𝒶𝓇𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓉-𝒸𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝒫𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝒶𝓁 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝑒𝓉."

She flipped the page.

Surveillance notes. Spell-recordings. Orders. Images of her, not just in battle, but curled up next to Kai in a field camp, laughing over stolen tea, pressed against him during the festival fire-dances. Pictures that weren’t supposed to exist. Moments she didn’t remember.

They had taken them from her. They had rewritten her.

And the spell they cast, the one still smoldering beneath her skin, was fighting hard to keep the truth buried.

Every time she thought of him clearly, her thoughts blurred. Every time her heart reached out, a wall pushed back. She didn’t know if he was a villain or a lie. A warning or a wound. Her heart clung to him like breath. Her mind kept trying to erase him.

He was both a yes and a no. A maybe. A silence screaming to be broken.

She clutched the edge of the file so tightly it crumpled. Her legs buckled, and she sank to the floor, file scattered around her like ash.

Everything she thought she knew, everything she'd buried, had been scrubbed, carved, and sold back to her in a safer version. A version the Council could control.

One where love didn’t make her dangerous. One where Kai was easy to hate.

She pressed her hands to her face and breathed, once, twice.

It didn’t change anything.

He was alive. He remembered. And she… hadn’t been allowed to.

A soft knock tapped at her door.

She didn’t move. Didn’t answer.

The door opened anyway. No lock on this floor ever truly worked.

Captain Serel stepped inside, armor etched in gold, expression unreadable as ever.

“I felt the pulse,” he said simply. “You're not injured?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“You know what it means, then.”

Her fingers twitched near her thigh. “A corrupted wave. External.”

“It was meant for you,” Serel said.

She met his eyes. “You knew he was alive.”

Serel didn’t flinch. “No. I suspected.”

"You let me mourn him."

“You let yourself.”

The silence in the room grew thick, awful. Serel moved closer, voice soft.

“I warned them you were too close to him. That the binding might not hold.”

Faye’s breath left her in a hiss. “You did this to me.”

“I spared you.”

“You were in pieces,” he said quietly. “After the fall. After... him. The Council called it treason. I called it heartbreak.”

His expression shifted, just for a second, something old and wounded cracking beneath it.

“They said memory is the seed of rebellion. That forgetting was peace.”

He looked at the glowing sigil on her shoulder, regret in every line of his face.

“I believed them. Maybe I still do. But that doesn’t make it right.”

She stood. “Spare me again. Give me access to the rebel runes.”

He studied her. “Why?”

“I’m going to find him.”

A pause.

“And when you do?”

She looked him in the eye, calm as winter.

“I’ll ask him why he still remembers me. And then I’ll decide if I let him live for it.”



CHAPTER 3:
The tunnels beneath Marrowglass breathed like a dying beast.

The city above was a symphony of white stone and memory-wiped order. But down here, beneath the foundations, beneath the truth, they buried what didn’t fit. Collapsed passageways. Forbidden spellrunes. Burned bones with names no one spoke aloud.

Faye moved through the dark like she belonged to it.

The air was damp, lined with ash and warding marks. Her boots crunched over glass sigils shattered long ago. She passed empty torch brackets and faded graffiti, half slogans, half prayers.

This was his world. Where she’d once held his hand. Where they’d whispered vows and strategy in the same breath. Where she used to feel like fire.

Now, she walked in silence, blade at her hip, the memory-sigil in her shoulder burning like guilt.

She found him in the old library vault.

Not hiding. Not waiting.
Just… standing. In the middle of the ruin, coat dripping with shadow, bare fingers pressed to a shattered statue.

𝘒𝘢𝘪.

The real version. Not the ghost. Not the fragments. Flesh and bone and breath.

His back to her, curls damp with sweat, the rebel mark stitched into the collar of his coat.

He spoke before she could.

“You kept the scar.”

“You left me to make it,” she replied.

He turned slowly.

His face hadn’t changed much. Sharper around the edges. More worn. But the eyes, the wildfire, still burned with everything she remembered.

“Hello to you too, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦.”

The name snapped through her like a faultline. The spell binding her memories pushed hard, blurring, resisting. Her heartbeat kicked against it.

“Don’t call me that.”

“You used to love it.”

“I used to love you.”

She drew her sword. He didn’t flinch. “You’re alive.”

“And you’re still stunning when you’re furious.”

She nearly lunged. Nearly.

“Why?” she asked. “Why let me think you were dead?”

Kai’s jaw tensed. “Because if you’d known I was alive, you’d have tried to find me. And if you had… they would’ve erased you completely.”

She didn’t answer.

He stepped closer. Slowly. Like she might disappear.

“I was under the rubble. I heard them.”

She blinked.

“The enforcers. After the blast. You were screaming for them to search for me, and they told you to stand down. I was beneath their feet, bleeding, and I heard them say it, they’d had enough rebellions. The Council would lace the Veil with memory wiping magic. No more uprisings. No more truth. Just control. Anyone who interfered would be silenced. Including their loved ones.”

Faye’s throat tightened.

“They pointed at you,” he continued, “called you ‘promising.’ Said they’d wipe your memory, draft you into enforcement. Make you forget me. Make you loyal.”

Her sword trembled.

“I stayed down. I let them think I died. Because if I reached out, I knew you'd reach back. And they’d kill you for it.”

She hated that her heart ached at his words. Hated that the memory-spell still tried to dull it, tried to wash over his face with doubt and static.

“You sent the spellwave,” she said quietly.

He nodded. “I didn’t know if it would reach you.”

“𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫.”

He exhaled. “I hoped it would.”

Something sharp twisted in her chest. The memories, half-formed, swelled behind her eyes. Flashes. Whispers. Something she couldn’t name.

“You were supposed to fight with me,” she whispered. “Not vanish.”

“I was fighting,” he said. “Just not the way I wanted to.”

They stood in the vault’s gloom, words unsaid hanging like dust in the air.

“I read the file,” she said. “The one I wasn’t supposed to find.”

His expression didn’t change, but something in his shoulders dropped.

“They took more than moments,” she went on. “They carved you out of me. Burned it clean. Told me you’d betrayed us. That you ran. That you left me behind.”

He swallowed. “And you believed them.”

“I was made to.”

She looked at him then, not through the blur of memory-binding, not through training or orders. Just… looked. And saw a man who broke everything to protect her. Who never truly left. Who she might still hate, or love, or both.

“I don’t know what’s real anymore,” she admitted.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t tease. Just said.

“Then come with me. Let me show you what they don’t want you to remember.”

She didn’t move. The memory-spell still whispered doubt, still clawed at her certainty.

But her hand didn’t lower the sword either.

“I’m not here to forgive you.”

“I’m not here to ask you to.”

A pause.

“Then why now?”

“Because the Veil will fall at moonrise,” Kai said.

She tensed.

“You’re going to destroy it.”

“I’m going to set the truth free.”

“And burn the city with it?”

“They already did that,” he said quietly. “They just made us forget the flames.”

Silence again.

Her grip loosened.

She couldn’t trust him. Couldn’t hate him. Couldn’t remember clearly.

But she remembered enough.

And it was enough to let him walk away alive.

“Don’t vanish again,” she said.

“I won’t,” he replied.

He stepped back into the shadows, eyes unreadable.

“If you want answers,” he said, “meet me at the base of the tower. At moonrise.”

“And if I come with soldiers?”

“I’ll be ready.”

He vanished before she could change her mind.

Faye stood in the dark, pulse hammering, spell-scar burning. The truth stirred in her bones.

She didn’t know if she loved him.
She didn’t know if she should.

But she knew this. When the moon rose, she’d find out what was real.
Even if it broke her.



CHAPTER 4:
The mark on her shoulder burned like betrayal.

Faye stood hunched over the barracks washroom sink, scrubbing at skin that would not clean. The water had long turned cold, but still she poured it over the flaring sigil etched beneath her collarbone.

It pulsed. Violet light flickering just beneath the surface of her skin, delicate as calligraphy, cruel as a cage.

A spell built to erase.

One the Council buried inside her. One that was now, irrevocably, breaking.

Her reflection in the mirror blurred. Hair wet, eyes too wide. Not the measured gaze of a sentinel. No. Something older had surfaced. Something she thought long gone.

She stumbled back into her quarters, barely closing the door before collapsing to her knees. Her breath came in shallow bursts. She yanked off her tunic, staring at the sigil seared across her shoulder and spine.

It was glowing brighter now. Reactive. Awakened.

Kai’s voice.
His spellwave.
The truth.

It had split the bindings inside her. And now, memories she hadn’t known were hers were clawing back to life.

Flash—
His fingers drawing rebellion on her spine in ink and whispers.
“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘭.”

Flash—
The festival dance. His hand in hers, both of them laughing like the war didn’t exist.

Flash—
Screaming through rubble. Begging enforcers to dig him out. The taste of ash on her tongue.

Flash—
The cold clinic. A healer’s voice saying, “𝒀𝒐𝒖’𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓.”

Her vision blurred. The spell was fraying, and every crack let more pain through.

She reached blindly for the dagger beside her cot.

Dug the point into the sigil.

Blood welled. Light flared. Pain bloomed through her ribs and into her teeth. Her scream didn’t echo, it sank into silence, swallowed by Council run walls.

But this time, when her thoughts cleared, she saw him.

𝑲𝒂𝒊.

Alive. Scarred. Reaching.

A memory.

Or maybe a promise.

A knock broke the silence.

She didn’t answer.

The door creaked open anyway. Of course it did. Council quarters never truly locked.

Captain Serel entered, gold etched across his armor like judgment like always. But when he saw her, on the ground, half-dressed, blood dripping down her arm—he froze.

“…It’s happening,” he said quietly.

She didn’t move. Just stared at him with eyes full of fire and mourning.

“You lied,” she said.

He didn’t argue.

“You said forgetting was mercy.”

“It was supposed to be,” Serel murmured.

“You let them carve him out of me.”

“I did it to keep you alive.”

Her lip curled. “Then you should’ve let me die.”

He winced, only slightly, but it was there. She saw it.

Silence stretched between them, tight as a drawn bow.

Then he stepped forward and held something out.

A vial. Small. Simple. Swirling with silver threads.

“Your memories,” he said.

She blinked. Didn’t reach for it.

“You had them all this time?”

“I wasn’t permitted to destroy them. I kept them hidden. I thought… maybe one day, if you ever-”

She snatched it from him.

Her hand shook.

“You thought maybe I’d be useful again if I burned,” she said.

“No,” Serel said quietly. “I thought you deserved the truth. Even if it wrecked you.”

She stared at the vial. At the shimmer of what they stole from her. Her breath came shallow.

And then she uncorked it.

The magic struck like thunder.

Her back arched. Light burst from her skin.

Flash—
Kai pressing his forehead to hers.
Flash—
Their hands bound together in an oath of rebellion.
Flash—
His voice whispering, “𝘐𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘦, 𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶.”

The spell ended with her curled on the floor, shaking.

But this time, she rose.

Serel stood back, jaw tight. He looked at her like someone seeing a storm break.

She met his gaze.

“Did you know what Kai planned?”

“No,” he said. “But I knew he wouldn’t stay quiet forever.”

She turned away, dressing in silence.

Strapping her blade to her back.

Then she looked over her shoulder. Eyes fierce.

“If he’s really going to bring the Veil down…”

Serel inhaled sharply. “You’re not thinking of helping him.”

“I’m thinking,” she said, “that maybe I should’ve helped him from the start.”

And then, softer, “If I’d remembered earlier… would I have joined him?”

Serel didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

She moved past him toward the door.

“Faye,” he called.

She paused.

“You’re walking into fire.”

She glanced back. “𝑰 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒔.”

And then she was gone.

Out of the barracks. Into the night. Toward the Tower.

Above her, lightning cracked open the sky.

The Veil was waiting.



CHAPTER 5:
The Veil Tower shimmered like obsidian fire under the full moon.
From below, it looked eternal, untouchable.
From within, it pulsed like a dying heart.

Faye stood at its base, blade strapped to her spine, lungs full of smoke and stormlight.

Above her, Kai moved like a shadow across the support bridges, silent, swift, his magic coiling through the air in violet streaks. Runes burned in the stone behind him. The Veil was weakening. The tower was humming. She could feel it, fracturing.

And then he saw her.

He froze.

So did she.

"𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆.."

"Don’t."

"You came."

"You knew I would."

He landed lightly on the stone path, a blade at his hip and blood on his sleeve.

Neither of them moved for a long time.

Then she spoke. Quietly. "You’re breaking it tonight."

He nodded, "I have to."

"The city won’t survive it."

He smiled, but there was nothing soft in it, "No one survives without memory."

Lightning split the sky. The wind howled between the tower’s pillars.

Faye’s hand drifted down from her sword.

"We could run," she said. "Just you and me. Leave this place to burn."

Kai’s smile cracked. "You still say ‘we’ like it’s real."

She blinked.

"Wasn’t it?"

He stepped forward.

"They took me from you. Rewrote you. Made you forget. You looked me in the eye once and didn’t even flinch. That broke me worse than the war ever could."

Faye’s fingers curled around the hilt of her sword. "You didn’t fight for me."

"I am fighting 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶."

"You left me bleeding-"

"𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝒖𝒔 𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥"

Then they moved.

Two spells clashed midair, hers a silver blade of light, his a whip of violet arcana. Steel hissed. Sparks burst. The Veil groaned in the distance, light spilling like fire through its seams.

Faye ducked under his swing and slashed across his coat. He twisted, blood painting the air. He didn’t slow.

"Strike harder!" he shouted. "You used to cut like you meant it!"

She snarled, dodged a binding rune, and kicked him square in the ribs. He crashed into the steps, coughing.

"I should kill you."

"They already did for you!"

They froze. Rain began to fall.

Kai wiped blood from his lip.

"You think this is just rebellion? You think I want revenge?"

He gestured to the sky. Light fractures glowing across the Veil’s height.

"I want truth. For them. For you. So you never forget again."

She lowered her blade slightly. Rain soaked her through. Lightning framed his face in silver.

He looked ruined.
Unsteady.
Still utterly himself.

Flash—
Him bandaging her arm, laughing.
Flash—
Running beside him toward the flames.
Flash—
Her own voice promising him..."𝘈𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴."

"You broke me," she whispered.

"Then let me fix it..."

"I don’t know who I am anymore."

"You’re more than what they made you."

She surged forward.

Their swords locked. Foreheads pressed. Breaths shaking. Neither could finish it.

And then.

She dropped her blade.

He caught it.

Her eyes met his. "I can end it now."

"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵."

She hated that he was right.

He stepped back a pace, breath uneven.

"You want the truth, Faye? Then come inside. It's time you heard it all."

He vanished into the flickering corridors.

Faye stood for only a breath longer, then followed. Blade in hand. Heart burning.

The tower’s interior thrummed with energy, wards unraveling, memory sigils flaring, ancient spells resisting their collapse. The truth was waking up. And so was the Council’s response.

She caught up to Kai as he carved a disruption rune into the stone wall, panting slightly.

“You still can fight me, kill me even, if you're not sure of this...” he says without turning.

“I wasn’t,” she said. “Now I am.”

Then the floor beneath them shuddered.

Kai’s eyes snapped to hers.

“Run.”

The sound of boots thundered from below. Council enforcers, already inside, already climbing. A spellblast cracked the air. The tunnel behind them burst into violet flame. Rubble scattered.

“They’re earlier than expected-”

Another blast. This one close.

Faye threw up a barrier rune just in time. A lance of arcane light struck the shield and shattered it like glass.

Kai yanked her sideways into a side passage. They sprinted, lungs heaving, the summit only two levels away.

Then. A pulse of force behind them.

A rune detonated.

Faye staggered, but Kai was too close to the blast. He grunted. Hard. And dropped to one knee.

Blood spilled from beneath his coat.

“𝐊𝐚𝐢-!”

“I’m fine,” he hissed, pressing a hand to his side. “Keep moving. Go.”

She grabbed his arm and hauled him up. His face was pale, but his feet kept moving.

They climbed together, one dragging the other.

The tower moaned above them, fractures glowing like veins of fire.

“We have to reach the seal before they do,” he gasped.

“You’re bleeding.”

“I’ve bled before.”

And they kept going, one final flight.

Just the two of them.

Bleeding. Breathless.

Unbroken.




CHAPTER 6:
The Veil screamed.

High above the tower, the obsidian surface began to fracture, pale white light bleeding from the cracks like moonlight gone mad. The magic woven into the structure, centuries of spells, silences, lies was coming undone, thread by thread.

Faye and Kai burst through the final corridor, breath ragged, spells burning in their hands.

The tower groaned beneath them, a living thing in its death-throes.

“We’re almost there,” Kai rasped, stumbling slightly as they reached the summit chamber.

Faye caught his arm, worried. Blood already soaking through his sleeve.

“I’m fine.” He breathes

He wasn’t. She could see it, his magic flickering, his shoulder dark with blood. But there was no time.

The summit chamber pulsed with raw energy.

The central seal shimmered, etched into the floor like a sun caught mid collapse. It waited, silent, ancient, hungry.

They stepped forward.

And then. Behind them. Boots. Dozens.

The enforcers had arrived.

“Faye Ilrose! Step away from the seal!”

Kai turned too fast. His side gave out. He collapsed just beyond the rune, a smear of red trailing beneath him.

Too late.

Faye stood her ground, eyes blazing, hands glowing with magic, heart pounding in her chest.

Every memory.

Kai dragging her from fire.
Whispers in the dark.
The rebellion they’d built, side by side.

It had all come back.

The spell meant to bind her, meant to bury every feeling, every choice, every moment was unraveling. Because her heart remembered. And the Veil was cracking.

And she finally understood.

Why Kai had vanished.
Why he had waited.
Why this mattered more than survival.

Because this wasn’t just about them.
This was about the whole city waking up.

She turned back to the seal. Her blood was needed to stabilize it. A soul’s cost for the collapse. The only way to anchor the flood of broken memory was through sacrifice.

"Faye, no!" Serel’s voice rang out from the crowd of enforcers, stepping forward now. "If you do this, there’s no going back."

She looked him in the eye, and for the first time, he saw her, not as a soldier. Not as an asset.
As a woman who had remembered everything she had ever lost.

"That’s the point," she said.

She stepped into the runes.

Light flared. Her skin blistered. Pain crashed through her like a tide. The spell began to latch onto her soul.

And then. A hand.

𝐊𝐚𝐢.

His grip was trembling, bloodied, real.

"You're not dying without me."

"Kai-"

"You spent all this time looking for me," he whispered, voice trembling. "And now I’m here... just like you wanted."

The sigils flared brighter, searing into their bodies.

She was sobbing. She didn’t even know when the tears had started.

He reached out, brushing her face, as if memorizing her again.

"They made you forget me. But I remembered every day. Even when it destroyed me. Even when you looked through me like I was no one."

She stared up at him.

"Why didn’t you come sooner?"

"Because I knew it had to be you who chose."

The enforcers stood frozen. The power was too great now. Even Serel stepped back, eyes wide with something like grief.

Faye’s legs were giving out.

Kai caught her.

And then, he kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle.
It was devastation.

It was desperation, defiance, love made from ruin.
It was three years of silence colliding into one breath.

It was goodbye.

They stood in the burning core of the tower, runes crawling up their skin.

Faye’s voice shook as she whispered, "Whatever happens..."

Kai rests his forehead against hers and says softly.

"𝓦𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻..."

They didn’t smile.

They held on to each other.

And let go of everything else.

And then the tower shattered.

Light devoured the sky.

When it cleared, the Veil was gone.

And so were they.

The people of Marrowglass woke from their long sleep.

And in the space where the tower once stood, there was only scorched stone, a broken blade, and the faint smell of smoke.

No statues were raised.
No names recorded.

But across the city,
in alley walls, on rebel flags, in whispered prayers,
the same line kept re appearing like it used to 3 years ago.

“𝐖𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐮𝐬.”
“𝐖𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫.”