The palace's eastern tower stood quiet beneath the pale hush of morning. A soft breeze drifted through its open arches, carrying the faint scent of dawn lilies from the royal gardens. Illyen paused at the threshold, his breath caught somewhere between hesitation and yearning. The air here felt heavier — full of echoes he could almost hear, like soft footsteps trailing behind him from another time.
Cael waited just a few steps ahead, his hands clasped loosely behind his back as he studied the stained-glass mural on the far wall. The colors shifted with the sunlight, weaving crimson and gold patterns across his face. When he turned, his blue eyes softened instantly.
"You don't have to push yourself," Cael said gently. "We can do this another day."
Illyen shook his head. "No… I think this is the only day I can."
His fingers brushed the silver threads woven into the fabric of his cloak — a gift from Serin, meant to stabilize the awakening memories. Each thread shimmered faintly, resonating with the other soul-threads in the room.
From the shadowed corner, Serin Vaelthorn stepped forward, scrolls held carefully to his chest. "This chamber is where the Heart Vaults first recorded your bond," he said softly. "Before the severing spell. Before the Veil. If any place can help you reclaim the last fragments… it is here."
Maerin Solen followed behind him, her calm gaze flickering toward Illyen. "Memories resurfacing this rapidly can be overwhelming. But you are not alone. Let them come at their pace."
Lysa, dressed in her knight's uniform, stood by the archway, silent but resolute. Her presence grounded the room, steady as an anchor. Illyen felt her unwavering support like a warm weight behind him.
Illyen stepped forward.
The air grew warmer — not uncomfortably, but with a familiar, heart-aching heat. Cael moved to his side, close enough that their shoulders brushed.
A soft hum rose from the floor, the same hum Illyen had felt in the Vaults but gentler now, like a lullaby. Runes carved centuries ago flickered, breathing light into the chamber.
"What do you remember?" Cael whispered.
Illyen closed his eyes.
At first, there was only darkness.
Then…
A garden bathed in golden dusk.
Two boys — small, earnest, laughing.
Cael running barefoot over grass.
Illyen chasing him, breathless, cheeks pink.
A promise whispered under a dying tree:
"Even if everyone forgets us… I won't."
The memory hit like a wave. Illyen's hand flew to his chest. The ache was sharp — not painful, but unbearably tender.
"I remember your voice," Illyen whispered. "Calling me back when I was afraid. Telling me I wasn't alone."
Cael's breath trembled. "Illyen…"
More memories unfurled.
Illyen crying quietly when Cael was scolded by the king.
Cael secretly placing a ribbon on Illyen's wrist so he would never wander far alone.
Small hands gripping each other in fear during a storm.
Small hearts discovering what it meant to love — shy, innocent, real.
Illyen stumbled slightly. Cael caught him instantly.
"It's alright," Cael murmured. "I'm here."
"I know," Illyen said hoarsely. "But remembering hurts. Not because it's painful… but because we lost so much time."
Cael's expression cracked for a moment, the sadness raw but quiet. "I know that hurt too. Every single day."
Serin cleared his throat softly. "There is one more place you must see."
He pointed toward an alcove partially hidden behind veiled curtains. The fabric was thin and shimmered faintly with runic light.
Illyen felt the pull — instinctual, deep.
He stepped inside.
The chamber was small, circular, with walls lined by crystalline memory-stones. Most were cracked, shattered long ago. But at the center stood a single intact stone, glowing with warm, reddish light. It pulsed the same way Illyen's heartbeat did.
Maerin whispered behind him, "This is the last memory the Vaults preserved untouched. It resisted Vaenn's spell."
Illyen reached out.
The stone responded instantly.
Warmth enveloped him, and the world spun —
— a night sky full of falling stars
— Cael sitting beside him on a rooftop, their shoulders pressed together
— Illyen whispering, voice trembling:
"If I ever forget you… find me."
— Cael turning to him, eyes burning with devotion
"Even if the world breaks, even if time resets… I will."
The memory shattered in light.
Illyen staggered; Cael caught him once more, arms firm and steady.
When Illyen's eyes opened, tears slipped down his cheeks. He didn't wipe them.
"I'm sorry," Illyen whispered. "I made you wait alone."
Cael's own eyes glimmered. "You didn't choose to forget. But I chose to remember — for both of us. Because some bonds… don't survive only through memory. They survive through love."
Illyen's breath hitched. The words felt like a thread stitching together every fracture inside his heart.
From the doorway, Lysa stepped forward, placing a hand over her chest. "Illyen… I knew there was something different about you two. Something sacred. Even when we were children."
Serin added, "You were never meant to be fragmented pieces. The world only tried."
Maerin looked between them. "The Loom responds to your unity. The more you remember together, the stronger the threads grow. But be warned — Vaenn Lysithar will sense this shift. He will try again."
Illyen lifted his chin. "Let him try."
Cael stood taller beside him, their hands intertwining naturally. "We will not be broken again."
For a moment, no one spoke. The chamber glowed warmly, threads of golden light weaving around Illyen and Cael like a quiet blessing — fragile yet unmistakably strong.
Illyen turned to Cael.
"Do you know what scares me the most?"
Cael shook his head.
"That I will lose you again."
A pause.
"Not through magic. Not through death. But through myself — through forgetting."
Cael reached up, cupping Illyen's cheek with a tenderness that made the world blur. "Even if every memory faded," he whispered, "your soul would still find mine. You found me in a life where you knew nothing. That is what terrifies Vaenn. And that is what saves us."
Illyen's eyes burned again.
"Cael… I—"
Cael pressed their foreheads together gently. "You don't have to say it yet. Love doesn't need to be rushed. It remembers its own home."
Illyen exhaled shakily, the warmth washing through him like sunrise.
Outside, bells chimed softly — the evening call.
Serin bowed slightly. "The council will be waiting."
But Illyen didn't move yet. He squeezed Cael's hand.
"Before we go… one more thing."
He looked around the chamber — at the fractured stones, at the surviving memory glowing softly, at the glimmering threads stitched into his cloak. And he whispered, voice full of quiet strength:
"This time, we begin again. And we begin together."
Cael smiled — the kind of smile that felt like coming home after centuries lost.
"Yes," he murmured. "Together."
And as they stepped out of the chamber, the Loom hummed again — louder this time, brighter — recognizing the bond that even time itself had failed to destroy.