I catch the sword's arc in my periphery. Panic surges—I throw my hands up instinctively, bracing for the blow. But before the blade can reach me, a fragment of a shield flares into existence, only where the strike is about to fall. Its glow is wrong—orange instead of the usual blue.
The sword crashes down, but instead of tearing through me, it ricochets harmlessly. Fire bursts from the point of impact, engulfing the guard before he can finish his scream.
The stench of burning flesh makes me gag, and the heat blurs my vision with tears. I wipe them away, searching desperately for who cast the spell—but my eyes snap back to Vaeroth. He already stands against Captain Thalen and our house guard, calmly watching them, his stillness daring them to move first.
"Spread out! Don't give him time to cast!" Thalen barks, but fear slows the men. They cling to the false safety of the crowd, too hesitant to break formation.
Vaeroth's back is to me. If I don't act, this will be a slaughter. Maybe I can't stop him—but perhaps I can distract him, buy a heartbeat of chance.
"Captain, stand down!" Mother's voice cuts through the chaos as she struggles upright. Formal, commanding. Then her gaze fixes on Vaeroth, and her tone shifts—gentler, almost pleading. "Vaeroth…it's all right. They're trying to help us."
Captain Thalen pauses, and I hold my breath, praying Mother's gambit will pay off. At last, he lowers his blade, sliding it back into its sheath. The other guards follow, steel rasping as the chamber falls into uneasy quiet.
Vaeroth's stance eases; he steps aside, allowing a priest to rush to Mother's side.
I stand, but the room feels broken—bodies on the floor, the seal shattered. I don't know how to fix any of it. And I can't leave, not with Vaeroth still here, just waiting.
My gaze flickers to him, then drops back to the floor. It feels reckless not to watch him, yet I'm afraid to meet his eyes. When I finally do, the weight of his stare holds me—and he speaks for the first time.
"Where are we?" His voice is plain, almost ordinary.
"We… we are in your fort," I answer, hesitant.
"My fort…" he murmurs, thoughtful. "And you and your mother—are you guests?"
"No. We—our family." The words stumble out, awkward. "We've taken joint stewardship of the fortress," I manage at last.
"I see. But you're elves—why would elves take stewardship over human lands?" he asks, sounding more confused than accusatory, as if the fort itself means little to him.
"A lot has changed since your time," I answer cautiously, unsure what might set him off. "Humans and elves are at peace now. We have been since you were sealed."
"Sealed? I was sealed? For how long?" He steps closer.
I shrink back before I can stop myself, then force my spine straight again. "Almost two thousand years," I say, keeping my tone factual.
"Two thousand years…" he says wistfully. "Is that why I don't remember anything?"
"You don't remember? Nothing at all?" I ask, uncertain what to make of his claim.
"I remember my name. I know how to cast magic. I can speak, I can move. But who I am, why I'm here—the fact that I'm lord of a fortress—none of it."
"And you're not angry?" I ask confused by his seeming nonchalance about being sealed for so long.
"About peace?" His brow furrows. "Who gets upset about peace? Though… if humans and elves are at peace, why did they attack you?"
"No, they— not about peace." I stammer, my words tangling faster than I can sort them.
"Liriel." Mother's voice cuts through, sharp but steady. "What kind of daughter have I raised, that you haven't thanked our savior?" She walks closer, still clutching her side but no longer bleeding. With a ginger curtsey, she inclines her head to Vaeroth. "Thank you for saving my daughter and me," she says, polite and deliberate.
My confusion delays me, but I follow her lead, curtseying stiffly. Savior? The word rattles in my chest. Is she truly saying Vaeroth saved us?
"It's only natural to save someone under attack." He says matter of factly.
"That's true, isn't it," Mother says warmly. "Still, we'd love to thank you properly. This place is hardly fit as a residence anymore—why don't you come back to the capital with us?"
Vaeroth's gaze drifts across the chamber, lingering on the guards. His expression remains calm, but there's a weight behind it, as though he's measuring each man in silence.
"Are we truly at peace?" he asks, suspicion edging into his voice.
I glance toward the guards, hoping for reassurance, but find only hostility. Their hands cling to sword hilts, eyes darting nervously as if searching for escape.
"Forgive them, Vaeroth. I assure you this is no trap," Mother replies evenly. Her tone is calm, but a faint sharpness creeps in—enough that Captain Thalen notices.
"Start bringing out the bodies for burial," Thalen orders, his voice cutting through the tension. "And find out who these attackers were." His command jolts the men from their frozen stances, and at last they move, grateful for direction.
The guards' movements break the silence of the chamber, pulling me out of my hyperfocus on Vaeroth. Reality crashes down: so many men died trying to protect me, and the seal… gods, I failed to maintain the seal. They died for nothing, and now the greatest threat in the world is free—being invited back to the capital by my own mother.
I slip from the room, both to clear the way and to clear my head. Outside the keep I find a quiet corner, safely tucked out of sight, and let the tears of frustration escape. For a few moments I allow myself the weakness, shoulders shaking, before I force composure back into place and wipe my eyes.
When I return, the guards have already begun digging graves. The priests move among the fallen, murmuring prayers as they prepare for a mass funeral. I join them, my hands steady but my heart heavy, trying to honor those who gave their lives while the weight of failure sinks into my stomach like a stone.
After the funeral we begin walking back toward the Baron's estate. Mother walks beside Vaeroth, speaking to him as if he were an honored guest, her voice calm, almost cheerful. I can't understand how she can be so fearless. Doesn't she see what he is?
I keep my eyes fixed on them. Vaeroth's stride is too relaxed, too easy for someone who claims to have lost his memories. He looks like a man who knows exactly where he's going. The guards notice it too—I catch the way their hands hover near their weapons, the way their eyes flick toward him when they think no one is watching.
My fists clench at my sides. His freedom was bought with blood, and now he walks beside my mother as if he belongs here. The thought makes my stomach twist. I'll unmask him, show everyone what he really is, and then finish it. I don't know how, but I can't let him walk free while the graves are still fresh.
By the time we reach the Baron's estate, my body feels heavy, every step dragging. I want nothing more than to collapse into bed, but when I finally lie down, sleep refuses to come. My mind circles endlessly — the seal, the graves, Vaeroth walking beside my mother as if he belonged there. Guilt knots in my chest, anger burns just beneath it, and together they keep me wide awake.
The estate feels different now. Fewer guards patrol the halls, their absence leaving the corridors too quiet. Every creak of the floorboards sounds louder than it should, the silence pressing in, a reminder of how many lives were lost.