The vision haunted her.
Even days after they left Vaerethryn, Serelith could still feel it—etched into her skin like a forgotten scar rediscovered. She hadn't spoken much since.
Faelan didn't press her.
He kept his distance, only breaking the silence to share food, to mark a safe path, or to offer the simple steadiness of his presence.
But at night, when he thought she slept, he'd watch her.
As if unsure who she was now.
Or who she might become.
---
They reached an old sanctuary deep within the wildwood—roots curling over a half-buried temple carved into the cliffs. The stars above were cold and clear.
Inside, the stone walls were covered in the same symbols Serelith had seen in the Codex vision—veiled figures, eyes of flame, broken crowns.
She touched one, and the wall pulsed beneath her hand.
The power responded to her now.
And that frightened her.
---
Later, by the fire, Faelan finally broke the silence.
> "What did it show you?"
She stared into the flames. "A truth that doesn't belong to me. But it wants me."
> "You think the Codex is trying to possess you?"
She shook her head. "No. It's not a possession. It's a summons."
> "To what?"
"To remember. To reclaim. To become something that shouldn't exist anymore."
She turned to him then, voice low. "Faelan, if I accept this… there may be no going back. Not to who I was. Not to you."
He looked at her, pain flickering behind his calm. "I didn't follow you into exile because I wanted you to stay small, Serelith."
A long breath. A beat of something tender.
"I followed you because I believe what you are becoming matters."
---
That night, Serelith dreamed.
But not of the Hollow Queen, or the Codex, or the Courts.
She saw herself—younger, alone in a starlit chamber, crying out for a mother that never answered.
Then she saw a robed figure, a priest of the Hollow Court, whispering words over her head.
Words of binding.
Words of forgetting.
And she woke with a gasp.
---
The truth began to bloom like fire behind her ribs.
They hadn't just hidden her power.
They had stolen her memory of it.
The Codex wasn't calling her to learn something new.
It was calling her to remember what had been taken.
---
At dawn, Serelith stood at the cliff's edge, wind lifting her dark hair.
Faelan approached, quiet as ever.
She didn't turn to him, but he didn't need her to.
He could feel the change.
> "I'm ready," she said.
> "For what?"
She looked toward the east, where the veil between realms shimmered faintly in the light.
"To stop running."