THOOM
The door closed behind her death stare as
Boring watched her leave. His grin soon faded till it wasn't there anymore.
"She's worried," he said quietly.
"I know." Auryn answered softly.
"More than worried. She's scared."
"I know that too." Auryn answered lightly.
Borin moved to the bed. Sat where Lyra had been. The mattress dipped under his weight.
"You should talk to her, lad. Really talk."
"I will. When I can."
"Why not now?"
Auryn didn't answer. His attention was on his neck. Something was missing.
Borin sighed deeply. Reached into his vest pocket. Pulled out the Life Anchor Amulet. Dark chain, dragon pendant, etched with sigils.
Relief hit Auryn like a wave.
"Healers had to remove it. Kept it safe for you." Borin held it out. Auryn took it quickly. It was cold and inert but served a purpose to him.
He slipped the chain over his head. The familiar weight settled against his chest.
This was proof. Proof Julien existed. Proof the transfer was real. Proof I'm not going insane.
Borin watched. "You were asking for it. While unconscious. Kept reaching for your chest."
"Was I?"
"Aye." Borin's expression was curious. Gentle. "What is it?"
Auryn touched the medallion through the bandages.
Can't tell him it saved my life during soul transfer. Can't explain.
"A reminder," he said carefully. "To keep fighting."
Borin studied him closely. He seemed to accept that. His eyes didn't search too much.
He gestured to the food. "Now eat. Before she comes back and rips your heart."
"Yes, sir."
"Aren't you joining me?" Auryn asked.
"Things to do before the council meeting" Borin moved to the door then paused.
"Don't know what that pendant means to you. Don't need to." His voice was gruff and affectionate.
"Just make sure whatever you're holding onto is worth the weight."
"It is."
Borin nodded, smiled then left.
Auryn sat alone. His fingers trailing the pendant.
A second chance. One I shouldn't waste.
He forced himself out of bed. Every step agony but he could feel his body healing slowly.
He managed to walk to the desk without collapsing. Who would have thought only a few hours ago, he took on multiple opponents.
Sitting on the wooden chair. He looked at the food carefully. He hoped he could finally savor a meal. After eating only for survival in the past few days.
The door suddenly opened again. Shifting his attention there.
Lyra entered. She'd changed. Wore a shorter dress but still enough to look decent. Worthy of a princess and yet a woman who wants the attention of her man.
"May I join you?" Her voice was soothing.
"Of course." Auryn answered, looking over his shoulder.
She sat across from him. Took a piece of bread. Had a bite and held it.
"You should try resting more."
" Borin mentioned a council meeting later. After that I can rest"
She sighed. Watching him closely.
"But you missed it."
His hand paused. Mid-reach for cheese. His chewing motion slowed.
"Missed what?"
"The anniversary." Her voice was careful. Watching. "Three days ago. While you were gone."
Anniversary?
His mind raced.
What anniversary? What is she—
Her amber eyes locked on his. Hoping to read his mind.
She's testing me. This is a test.
"Your sister's death," Lyra said quietly. "You always visited her grave. Every year. Same day. You'd leave at dawn. Return at dusk."
Sister?. Ohh Auryn had a sister. She died young. Frail from birth.
The information was there. Buried in his memories. Novel mentioned it—once? Twice? Background detail. Just flavor text.
What was her name? When did she die? How old was she? Panic clawed at his throat. Lyra watched, waiting for his reaction.
Think. THINK.
Then it clicked. Fragment of memory not his. Auryn's.
A young girl with blonde hair. Draelor's first daughter—fragile from birth, fate's cruel joke on the First Prince's bloodline. She'd called Auryn "big brother" since she could speak. He'd loved her like the sister he never had.
And then fever took her at six years old.
The memory was faint. Secondhand. Like watching through fog. But it was there.
"I was at the ruins," he said quietly. "Lost track of time. Didn't realize..."
Lyra's expression didn't change. Still watching. "You never forgot before." Her voice was soft and demanding. "Since I've known you. Every year. No matter what. You went."
Because he loved her. The original Auryn loved his sister. And I loved mine.
Auryn looked down at his hands. The burned palms. The bandages.
He thought of Emilia. The machines beeping. Her hand on his. Soft and fragile.
"I love you. Please don't go. Please—"
His throat tightened. He remembered it vividly like it was merely a second ago. Same grief. Same pain. Different sister but same loss.
"I didn't forget," he said. Voice rough and honest. "I just... couldn't. The ruins. The fight. I couldn't make it on time."
He looked up. Met Lyra's eyes.
"But I thought about her. Every day I was gone. Every time I thought I might die." His voice cracked. His words genuine.
"I thought—if I die here, who'll remember her? Who'll visit her grave? Who'll—"
He stopped and swallowed hard.
Emilia's face appeared. Smiling, laughing then pale, still... Gone.
"She was six," he whispered. "When the fever took her. Too young. Too—" His voice broke.
Six. Auryn's sister. Not fourteen like Emilia. Different girl but the grief is the same.
Lyra's expression shifted. Her sharp eyes softened. She reached across the table. Took his hand. Careful of the bandages.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly.
He couldn't speak. Just nodded.
Using Emilia's memory. The fact he missed her daily. To cover for a sister I never knew.
I'm a bastard.
But it worked. Lyra's eyes—suspicious moments ago—now showed something else.
Sympathy, belief, care. Maybe even guilt for testing him.
"You loved her very much," Lyra said.
"I did."
They sat in silence. Fingers intertwined subconsciously. Connected.
Then Lyra pulled back slowly.
"You should rest," she said. Her tone much gentler now. "Before the council."
"I will."
She stood. Moved to the door then paused, looked back.
"Auryn?"
"Yes?"
"Whatever you're carrying. Whatever weight you're bearing." Her voice was careful. "You don't have to carry it alone."
His throat tightened.
If you knew. If you really knew. Would you still say that?
"Thank you." He answered, his eyes felt vulnerable.
She nodded and walked out.
Auryn sat alone. Hand resting on the amulet.
That was too close. She was testing me. Checking if I remembered. If I cared. And I almost failed.
He touched his chest. Where grief lived.
I miss you, Em. Every day. And I'm using your memory as a shield. I'm sorry.
---
Lyra walked through the corridor, mind racing.
His reaction. When I mentioned the anniversary—there was a brief pause. Like he didn't know what I was talking about.
Then he remembered.
She reached her chambers. Closed the door and sat at her desk.
Her thoughts, still racing. But the emotion. The grief when he spoke about her.
That was real. His voice broke. His eyes—genuine pain. You can't fake that. Can you?
She pulled out her journal. Opened to a new page.
She wrote:
"His hands move differently. Gestures Auryn never used."
She continued. "I tested him with Aurelia's anniversary. He forgot—or almost forgot. He was slow to answer but the grief when he spoke was real."
"Either he's the best actor I've ever seen... or I'm wrong. Or something else entirely."
She stared at the words.
What if he's not possessed? What if the poison damaged his memory? Changed him? What if he's still my Auryn—just... broken?"
Doubt crept in. All her uncertainty since he left, unwinding slowly. She knew he was different but the HOW ate at her.
She closed the journal. Locked it.
She'd watch more.
But for now... She would trust his pain. There was truth in it and more than anything else.
She Needed That.