I watched them through the surface of the orb.
Zaeran knelt beside the bed, her armor discarded, shoulders trembling as she clutched the girl to her chest.
The room around her lay drowned in shadow, lit only by guttering candlelight that stretched thin, distorted silhouettes across the walls.
She looked smaller like this.
Stripped of command.
Stripped of certainty.
Atarae lay limp in her arms, lashes resting softly against pale cheeks, lips parted as if caught mid-dream—one she would never remember.
My fingers hovered above the orb.
When Atarae’s face filled its surface, I reached out and touched the glass.
It was warm beneath my fingertips, thrumming faintly with residual magic—memory, identity, fragments of a life severed and left drifting without anchor.
So fragile.
The image shifted. Zaeran’s face replaced it—tear-streaked, eyes red and unfocused, lips moving in silent promises that meant nothing beyond that room.
I pressed my fingers to the orb again, this time where her cheek appeared.
“I know,” I murmured softly, though she could not hear me. “You believe this suffering makes you righteous.”
My reflection stared back at me from the glass—calm, composed, untouched by grief.
It did not make me cruel.
It made me necessary.
The orb dimmed as I withdrew my hand. I turned away, robes whispering across the stone as I crossed the chamber.
The air here was cool, perfumed faintly with old incense and magic far older than this kingdom.
I raised my hand.
“Griselda.”
The sigil flared.
She arrived moments later, armor intact, posture rigid, eyes sharp with restrained tension.
She did not bow. She never did. She inclined her head, jaw set.
“You called,” she said.
“Yes.” I lifted the orb, letting its glow bathe the chamber. “It’s done, then?”
Griselda’s gaze flickered—just briefly—to the surface, where Atarae’s sleeping face shimmered before fading.
“The extraction was successful,” she said. “Complete.”
As expected.
I extended my hand. The orb lifted from its pedestal and drifted into my palm, its weight settling in a way no physical object ever could.
“So much fear,” I murmured. “So much hope. Such devotion to a world that would only devour her.”
Griselda’s voice was flat. “What will you do with them?”
“I will seal them.”
The air shifted as I opened a gateway—green light folding inward, the scent of moss and ancient rain spilling into the chamber.
“The Elysium Forest,” Griselda said quietly.
“The heart of it,” I corrected. “Where no hand but mine may reach.”
I stepped through.
The forest welcomed me like an old wound reopening.
Roots twisted deep beneath my feet, glowing faintly with ley-light, trees towering overhead like silent witnesses.
I knelt where magic pooled thickest and placed the orb into the waiting hollow of living stone.
Vines curled around it instantly, sealing it away.
Safe.
Hidden.
Untouchable.
I exhaled once, slowly, then turned back.
Griselda stood where I’d left her, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
“There is one more thing,” I said.
She stiffened. “I assumed as much.”
“Zaeran,” I continued. “Her memories of Atarae must be erased.”
The words fell heavy.
Griselda’s eyes hardened. “That is unwise.”
I tilted my head. “Explain.”
“You’ve seen her devotion,” Griselda said. “If she discovers this after the fact—after her own memories are altered—there will be no reasoning with her. Her rage would be uncontrollable.”
“And yet,” I replied calmly, “she cannot be allowed to interfere.”
“She is already on the brink,” Griselda pressed. “Strip this from her, and you risk creating something far worse than grief.”
I met her gaze fully
“That is a risk I am willing to take."
Silence stretched between us.
For a moment—just one—I thought she might refuse.
Then she turned away.
“As you command,” she said.
She took two steps toward the exit.
“Griselda,” I called softly.
She paused.
“You forget,” I continued, my voice smooth as silk drawn over steel, “who pulled you from the ruins you once were. Who reshaped you when the world cast you aside.”
Her shoulders tensed.
“I gave you purpose,” I said. “Power. Control. Do not forget what you owe.”
She did not turn.
“I haven’t,” she replied.
And then she was gone.
I remained alone, the forest’s magic humming faintly beneath my feet, the orb sealed far away where no love, no memory, no defiance could ever reach it.
Necessary sacrifices, I reminded myself.
Even if they never forgave me.
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