The room went quiet after they pulled apart.
Not normal quiet. Not the peaceful kind.
It was the kind that felt thick… like the castle itself had stopped breathing just to listen.
Sylvera could still feel Arther's warmth on her skin, like it hadn't left yet. His hands rested lightly on her shoulders, careful, steady, almost gentle. But his eyes… his eyes were intense, locked onto hers like he was afraid to look away.
There was strength there.
But also something softer.
Something scared.
"Sylvera…" he said, his voice low, almost breaking. "I need to be honest with you."
Her heart jumped, hard and sudden.
Honest?
Now?
She stared at him, confused, hurt, angry, hopeful—all at once. "Honest?" she repeated. Her voice came out sharper than she meant. "After everything you said ? After all the lies… the half-truths… the secrets… you choose now to be honest?"
He didn't argue.
Didn't defend himself.
He just nodded slowly and stepped closer.
His hands stayed on her shoulders, warm and steady, like he was trying to keep her from running. And somehow, that made her want to stay… and push him away at the same time.
"I don't know everything about Lyria's past," he said quietly. "There are gaps. Things I misunderstood. Things I might have gotten wrong."
Sylvera's chest rose and fell fast.
Too fast.
The name burned in her ears.
"I am not Lyria!" she snapped, her voice cutting through the room like glass breaking. "Why do you keep saying that? Why do you need me to be her?"
Arther didn't look angry.
He didn't look confused.
He looked… sure.
Soft, but sure.
He leaned closer, so close his forehead almost touched hers. The nearness made her skin tingle, her breath catch, her thoughts scatter like frightened birds.
"I know," he whispered. "I know you are Lyria. Deep down, I can feel it. One day… you'll see it too. You'll remember how much I knew her. How much we loved each other."
His voice shook a little.
But he kept going.
"You are her," he said. "And no matter what… I will always be yours."
Her hands curled into fists.
She wanted to step back.
Wanted to laugh in his face.
Wanted to scream.
But she couldn't move.
Because his warmth… his closeness… it made everything inside her twist into knots.
Her heart was racing so loud she could hear it in her ears.
"Yes," she said, crossing her arms tightly, like she could hold herself together that way. "You keep saying that. But you don't even know her past. You don't know her life. You don't know anything about her."
Arther didn't look away.
Not even for a second.
"That's because Lyria didn't know her past either," he said gently. "My father brought her here years ago. Before he died. She didn't know where she came from… who she used to be. She only had me."
His voice softened.
"So we held onto each other," he said. "We became… everything to each other. We were in love, Sylvera. Truly."
The words hit her like a punch to the chest.
She felt it physically.
Her breath caught.
Her hands trembled.
Part of her wanted to shout that he was wrong. That he was lying. That he was confusing her with someone else.
But another part… a quiet, scared part… didn't know what to say.
Then his face changed.
The softness disappeared.
His eyes darkened with anger so sharp it almost scared her.
"But then Lorian," he said, his voice rough. "He betrayed us. He pretended to care about you. Pretended to be your friend. And then he turned you against me."
He almost spat the name.
"He's a liar, Sylvera. Every word he says is poison."
The room felt smaller suddenly.
Like the walls were closing in.
Sylvera opened her mouth to argue… but nothing came out.
Because she didn't know.
She really didn't know.
Arther stepped closer again, his hands sliding down her arms, slow and gentle.
"I won't lie to you," he said softly. "I don't know everything. I might never know everything. But what I feel… it's real. You are Lyria, in every way that matters. And one day you'll see it."
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"I'll wait. I'll fight for you. You are mine… and I am yours."
The words hung in the air like something alive.
Heavy.
Warm.
Dangerous.
Sylvera's head spun.
Disbelief.
Fear.
Confusion.
And something else she didn't want to name.
Before she could think, before she could decide anything, Arther pulled her into a tight hug.
Strong.
Steady.
Impossible to escape.
His chest pressed against hers, warm and solid, and for one second… just one… she felt safe.
"You see," he murmured into her hair, his breath warm against her ear, "I will do anything to protect you. You're safe with me."
Sylvera froze.
Her chest tightened.
Her breath went shallow.
Safe?
With him?
The warmth of his arms felt real.
Comforting.
And terrifying.
Her thoughts spun wildly.
Who do I trust?
Arther… or Lorian?
She slowly lifted her head, searching his face for cracks. For lies. For anything that looked fake.
He only smiled softly.
"You've seen Lorian," he said, his tone almost teasing. "Does he look trustworthy to you?"
She blinked, caught off guard.
"I… I don't know," she admitted. Because it was true. Lorian had protected her. Helped her. But there were moments… small strange moments… when something about him didn't feel right.
Arther nodded slowly. "Exactly," he said. "That's what I think too."
Then he stepped back.
His hands stayed on her shoulders for one last second… warm, steady… like he didn't want to let go.
Then he turned and walked to the door.
He paused before leaving and looked at her one more time. Not like a king. Not like an enemy.
Like someone who knew her.
Really knew her.
Then the door closed.
The soft click echoed through the room like thunder.
Sylvera didn't move.
She just stood there, feeling the ghost of his arms still around her.
Why does it feel like he can read my mind? she thought.
Her heart was beating too fast.
Her hands were shaking.
She didn't understand him.
She didn't understand herself.
Slowly, she sat down on the edge of the bed and grabbed the sheets, twisting them in her hands like they could hold her together.
Her thoughts were a mess.
Anger.
Confusion.
Fear.
Something warm and dangerous that scared her more than anything.
What does all this mean?
About him…
About me…
About everything I thought was true?
His words kept repeating in her head.
I'll fight for you.
You are mine… and I am yours.
And then—
Lorian betrayed you.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Could that be true?
Could Lorian… the one who pretended to stand beside her… really have lied to her?
Her hands pressed against her temples like she could stop the thoughts if she pushed hard enough.
Every memory of Arther came back stronger now. Every glance. Every word. Every strange feeling she didn't understand before.
She felt trapped between two storms.
Pulled toward him.
Pulled away from him.
Time stretched.
The room stayed quiet, but it didn't feel empty. It felt full of questions… of tension… of things waiting to break.
Trust him… or doubt him?
The question kept circling in her head like a curse.
And under it… something softer.
What if he's right?
What if I really am Lyria?
And if I am…
What does that mean for me?
For him?
For everything?
A shiver ran down her spine.
The castle outside stayed silent, like it was waiting for her answer.
But inside, her heart was loud. Too loud.
And she knew one thing.
She couldn't stay like this.
She needed the truth.
No matter how painful it was.
No matter who it hurt.
No matter what it changed.
Sylvera stayed sitting on the bed long after the door closed.
She didn't even remember lowering herself there. One moment she was standing, frozen in the middle of the room, and the next she was gripping the sheets like they were the only real thing left in the world.
The cloth twisted in her hands.
Her fingers hurt.
She didn't notice.
Her mind kept replaying everything Arther had said, over and over, like a song stuck on repeat.
You are Lyria.
I'll fight for you.
You are mine… and I am yours.
The words felt heavy. Too heavy. Like they were trying to sink into her bones.
She pressed her face into her palms, breathing slow, shaky breaths.
Why did his voice sound so sure?
Why did it sound… real?
She hated that.
She hated how her chest tightened when she thought about him.
Hated how her heart raced when he stood close.
Hated how part of her wanted to believe him.
"No," she whispered to herself. "No. I'm not her."
But the words didn't feel strong.
They felt weak. Fragile.
Like glass that could crack any second.
She leaned back slowly and stared at the ceiling. Pale moonlight slipped through the window, soft and cold, painting silver lines across the stone walls.
Everything looked calm.
But inside her, nothing was calm.
It was chaos.
Memories came back to her in pieces.
Arther's quiet smiles.
The way he watched her when he thought she didn't see.
The strange way her heart reacted to him, even when she was angry.
And then Lorian.
Lorian's steady voice.
Lorian standing in front of her in danger.
Lorian warning her about Arther again and again.
Two truths.
Two people.
Two stories.
And she was standing in the middle with no idea which one was real.
She covered her eyes with her arm, breathing hard.
"What if he's lying?" she whispered.
Her chest hurt.
"But what if he's not?"
That thought scared her more.
Because if Arther was telling the truth… then everything she believed about herself was wrong.
Who am I, then?
The question echoed inside her like a hollow drum.
Sylvera sat up suddenly, her breath catching.
Her heart was beating fast again.
Too fast.
She pressed her hand against her chest like she could calm it down.
Why does he feel so familiar? she thought. Why does it feel like I've known him forever?
She hated that feeling.
Hated how it pulled her toward him like gravity.
She stood up and walked slowly to the window. The night outside was quiet, dark, endless. The castle towers stood tall and silent, watching everything like old ghosts.
Somewhere out there… Arther was walking those halls.
Maybe thinking about her.
Maybe planning something.
Maybe telling the truth.
Maybe lying.
She laughed softly, but there was no humor in it.
"I don't even know what's real anymore," she said to the empty room.
Her reflection stared back at her in the glass.
Same face.
Same eyes.
But she didn't feel like the same person.
She touched her cheek slowly, like she expected it to change.
"Am I Lyria?" she whispered.
The name felt strange on her lips.
Familiar.
And strange.
If she was Lyria… why didn't she remember?
Why didn't she feel it?
Or maybe she did.
Maybe that pull toward Arther… that strange warmth… that pain in her chest when he looked hurt…
Maybe that was memory.
Hidden.
Buried.
Waiting.
She shook her head hard.
"No," she said again, louder this time. "I need proof."
Her hands trembled as she pressed them against the stone wall.
Arther believed in her.
Lorian warned her.
Someone was wrong.
Someone was lying.
And she couldn't live like this, stuck between two truths.
Her thoughts went back to Arther's face when he spoke about Lorian.
The anger.
The hurt.
That didn't look fake.
But Lorian's fear when he warned her… that didn't look fake either.
Her stomach twisted.
What if both of them were telling their own truth?
What if neither of them was completely right?
The idea made her head spin.
She walked back to the bed and sat down slowly.
Her hands were shaking again.
Every word Arther said felt like a thread pulling her toward something she couldn't see.
Every memory of Lorian felt like a hand pulling her the other way.
She was tired.
So tired.
But sleep felt impossible.
Because the moment she closed her eyes, she saw Arther's face close to hers. Heard his voice in her ear.
You are mine… and I am yours.
Her cheeks burned.
Her heart raced.
She hated it.
She hated how those words made her feel warm and afraid at the same time.
Why do I feel safe with him? she thought. Why do I feel like I've lost something… when I try to hate him?
She wrapped her arms around herself tightly.
The room felt cold now.
Too big.
Too empty.
She wished someone would tell her the truth.
Just once.
No secrets.
No lies.
No half-answers.
Just the truth.
But deep inside, she knew something.
The truth wouldn't be simple.
It never was.
She lay back slowly and stared at the ceiling again, her mind still spinning, her chest still tight.
Moonlight touched her face softly.
And in that quiet moment, something inside her changed.
Not loudly.
Not suddenly.
Just a small, steady decision forming in her heart.
I will find out.
No matter what.
No matter how much it hurts.
No matter who it breaks.
She sat up again, her jaw tight, her eyes burning.
"I'll find the truth," she whispered.
Her voice was stronger now.
More sure.
"I'll find out who I am. And who I can trust."
Arther's words echoed again.
Lorian's warnings followed right after.
And Sylvera knew one thing clearly for the first time since the door closed.
She couldn't trust feelings.
She couldn't trust memories.
She couldn't trust promises.
Not yet.
She needed answers.
Real ones.
And she would chase them, even if they led her into darkness.
Even if they led her into pain.
Even if they led her straight into Arther's arms… or Lorian's betrayal.
The castle stayed quiet around her, like it was waiting.
Waiting to see what she would do next.
Sylvera lay back one last time, her heart still racing, her thoughts still loud, but her decision clear.
She would uncover everything.
Every lie.
Every truth.
Every hidden memory.
And when she did… she would finally know who Sylvera was.
And who Lyria had been.
And who deserved her trust.
No matter the cost.