Alaric watched as time accelerated.
Years compressing into moments, showing highlights, important scenes, the progression of life in isolation.
He saw Brandon grow from infant to toddler. Saw him take his first steps. Heard his first words. Watched him develop into a small child.
The boy wore something around his neck, a pendant. Teardrop-shaped gem on silver chain.
Thaddeus had given it to him shortly after birth, pressed it into tiny hands with words about protection and legacy.
I've seen that before, Alaric thought, frowning. Somewhere. Recently. But where?
The memory continued.
Brandon was perhaps four years old now, running through the grass outside the cottage, laughing with pure, uncomplicated joy.
His small legs carried him in erratic patterns, chasing butterflies, exploring, living.
"Elara! Elara, come on!" He called out, his voice high and eager.
A smaller figure toddled after him, maybe two years old, still unsteady on her feet but determined.
