It had been a month since she woke here.
In that time, Vyrilleya Vreisz-"Riley" to everyone around her-was slowly adapting to this life. Being the eight-year-old only daughter of the Vreisz Viscounty, she was learning to move through the halls of the Viscount's estate like she belonged there. The manor was nestled on a forested hill just a day's ride from Liberia, the Fillemina Empire's capital. The people in this mansion were quiet, gentle, and warm in a way that made the emptiness in her chest feel less sharp.
The servants adored her.
The guards greeted her with gentle smiles.
The house was always peaceful.
In the first week she had been here, she learned that the brown-haired, soft green-eyed man from before was the Viscount and also her father, Sventius Vreisz. He was a soft-spoken man who almost always had tired eyes and ink-stained fingers whenever she met him. But despite his obvious workload and exhaustion, he always made time to read with her in the library by evening-at least three times a week. And though she still could not remember anything about him, spending time with him still somehow comforted her. So far, the evenings with Sven were what Riley looked forward to the most.
The noble lady who visited her together with Viscount Sven before was the Viscountess, Ramona Vreisz. She was a lovely woman with a proud posture, violet-colored hair-just like hers-and a kind smile. She always came to visit her every afternoon, inviting her to tea and telling her stories about her childhood-stories Riley couldn't remember, but never had the heart to deny.
Ramona made sure Riley never felt lonely. And yet, something about her never quite clicked.
Everyone referred to Sven as her father. But no one, not once, called Ramona her mother.
"Do you have something on your mind, darling?"
Riley blinked. She was sitting in the garden, across from Ramona, a teacup in her hands. The woman's violet eyes studied her with gentle concern.
Riley looked up at the woman sitting across from her. She studied the woman's appearance-her soft purple hair, styled neatly and elegantly; her soft violet irises looking at her with a smile. They were the exact same shades as hers.
"...Darling?" Ramona leaned in slightly. Her smile softened with a trace of worry.
"Ah. Nothing," Riley said quickly, altering her look to a fragrant tea in her floral porcelain cup. "I'm just... enjoying the tea. It tastes unique." She said again, making up an excuse. There were indeed things she still didn't understand about this house-like who Ramona truly was. But part of her hesitated to ask, afraid that the happiness she'd found would crumble the moment she started questioning everything.
Ramona's smile returned. "Really? This blend comes from the east. It's made from a rare flower that only blooms during twilight-the Eirabloss. I'm glad you enjoy it."
Riley nodded and sipped her tea again. A mellow, honeyed floral taste lingered on her tongue-sweet and soothing, contrary to the question she desperately wanted to ask, but never had the courage to.
The dream always began the same way.
Dark walls. Stone floors. Cold air heavy with the scent of metal and blood.
A boy stood alone in the center of a vast courtyard-barefoot, breathing hard, shoulders rising and falling like a hunted animal. His clothes were torn, soaked in sweat and something darker. His hands were cut. His knees bruised.
Then the voice came.
Cold. Low. Male.
"Again."
She never saw the man it belonged to. She was seeing the dream through the boy's eyes-or sometimes from somewhere distant. Either way, she could feel the boy's fear twist into something deeper: rage. Resignation. Exhaustion. The kind of pain that becomes familiar over time.
Sometimes he trained with swords too heavy for him. Sometimes he ran until his legs gave out. Other times, he stood still in the rain for hours, while unseen eyes watched from the shadows.
He never cried.
But she could feel how badly he wanted to.
She woke from those dreams gasping, her face damp, her hands clenched in the sheets. Her heart pounded like she had lived it herself. And every time, she tried to remember the boy's name-but it was always just beyond reach.
He felt real.
That's what unsettled her most. The clarity of it all. The texture of the air. The weight in her chest. The ache in her bones after she woke. It was as if she became the boy himself.
These weren't dreams.
They were something else.
One morning, as Nanny Collins braided her hair beside the window, Riley found herself staring down at her hands, quietly asking:
"Nanny... do I have any... strange gifts?"
Collins hummed, her hands moving gently. "Strange, My Lady?"
"Like... magic. Or anything that runs in our family?"
"Oh, sweetling," the woman chuckled, tying off the braid. "Most noble bloodlines have a bit of something tucked away, though few ever see it. Why do you ask?"
"I just... I keep seeing someone," she admitted. "A boy. He's not from around here. I don't think I've met him before. But he feels... so sad."
Collins paused. She tried to hide her shock, but Riley managed to catch it. The woman composed herself before answering.
"Perhaps My Lady's gift is beginning to awaken," she said softly, her tone melancholic. "Your mother's family was once known for a rare kind of macht. One that runs deep through memory."
Riley turned to look at her, heart beating faster. "What is macht?"
Collins stopped her hand. "I am not sure I'm even capable of teaching Young Lady these things, so you might be better off asking Lord Sven or Lady Ramona. But to the best of my knowledge, macht is an innate talent one can be born with. The power differs for each individual, and not everyone is blessed enough to be born with it. But I've heard that bloodline plays quite an important role-though not absolute-in increasing the likelihood."
Riley blinked. "Do many people have it?"
Collins shook her head. "Not that many. Only about five percent of the Fillemina population have it. And almost all come from nobility."
"...So I might be one of that five percent, huh?" Riley felt like she needed the confirmation.
Collins nodded.
"Do you know the name of the macht I'm supposed to have?" Riley asked.
Collins hesitated, brushing a curl from Riley's forehead, before saying softly-almost like a whisper, "Memoria."
That same evening, Sven and Ramona came to visit her in her room, as early as they could after returning from business outside the manor. They sat with her on the sofa, tea and simple pastries served to accompany the conversation. Riley, seated across from them, could roughly guess that this would be a long talk-and most likely about her suspected macht, Memoria.
"So," Sven began, lifting his cup, "I hear from Collins you've been having vivid dreams."
Riley nodded.
"Dreams that feel real?" he pressed. "Like you're truly there? Feeling everything?"
Again, Riley nodded.
The couple exchanged a glance. They didn't look shocked. They looked... worried.
Sven sighed deeply and placed his cup back on the table. His face turned more serious. His soft green eyes, which always carried a flicker of tiredness, locked directly with hers. Riley's body stiffened unconsciously.
"Yeah, Collins might be right. You must have inherited it. Your mother's macht."
Riley didn't speak, instead, she turned her gaze to Ramona. The woman was already looking down. Her violet eyes were glistening, tears threatening to spill.
Sven, catching what Riley's gaze implied, stand and move to sit beside her. He gently took Riley's hand. "No. Not Ramona's. Your birth mother's."
A chill passed through her.
Sven's voice was soft. "Her name was Cana."
Ramona blinked slowly, then stood abruptly. "I am very sorry, but I think I might need to call it a day. I'll leave first-you two can continue." She hurriedly left. Riley caught a glimpse of a tear finally running down her cheek.
The atmosphere grew heavier.
Sven quickly rose. "I'll come back shortly. You can wait here-or we can continue this later."
Riley shook her head. "I'll wait. You need to go to her. She seemed overwhelmed."
Sven's expression flickered in surprise, then softened into something warmer. He looked almost relieved. "Of course, sweetheart. Thank you for always being so considerate."
Sven finally returned over an hour later. The tea had long gone cold, but Riley didn't mind it one bit. What she needed now was the truth. The one that had haunted her curious mind for more than a month.
"I'm sorry that took longer than I expected," Sven said, entering with his usual fatherly smile. His complexion, however, was more vivid-he looked extremely tired.
Still sitting on the sofa, Riley replied, "That's okay. How is she?"
"She's fine. She's sleeping now," Sven said, sitting beside her again. "So, where were we? Ah, right-Cana." He leaned back, unbuttoned two buttons from his shirt, and loosened his cravat.
"She was Ramona's younger sister. And as Collins probably informed you, she also had it-Memoria."
"Where is she now?" Riley instantly regretted asking the moment the words left her mouth. Sven's expression changed.
"She passed away. Around the time when you were two." He was forcing himself to remain calm. His face stiffened.
"Riley, please promise me you will never use your power."
Riley blinked twice. She couldn't believe the sudden change of topic. "What? Why? I thought macht was a gift. A blessing not many are born with."
Sven shook his head. "Macht can be a blessing, but also a curse-depending on what it is and how the owner uses it. Worse, just because people are afraid of it, someone might be killed simply for owning it."
A pause.
"Just like Cana."
Riley gasped. "You don't mean-Mother was..." She couldn't finish.
Sven nodded. "Yes. She was killed. Simply because she had Memoria."
Riley covered her mouth with her hands.
Sven gently rested his hand on her head. "This is indeed a terrifying world we live in. But Memoria has an even worse side beyond being hunted."
She looked into his soft green eyes, unsure whether she was ready to hear the rest.
"As far as I know from Cana, Memoria's passive ability is peeking through others' memories. It mostly happens during sleep-through dreams-but sometimes manifests as sudden flashbacks when you're awake."
Sven continued gently patting Riley's head.
"Because this is mostly passive, you don't get much choice. It's best if you learn to control it. But you won't be able to avoid it completely. You'll have to bear it."
"And the one you forbid me from using is...?" Riley asked. Her curiosity had begun to take over.
Sven looked at her as if seeing past her-to something distant and lost. "The active skill of Memoria allows one to forcibly alter or erase someone's memory. That's where it becomes dangerous. Even with the passive power, Cana sometimes had trouble calming herself-separating herself from others' memories. But with the active one..."
He paused for a long moment.
"She once lost herself. She spoke in a language she had never heard before, and behaved like someone else. At times, she even forgot herself-just like you now."
His look grew somber. "Riley, with all those memories flowing into you so vividly, it might feel like you lived them yourself. And when it comes to altering or erasing, you'll need a deep understanding of the memory-so deep that you risk losing more of yourself."
Sven hesitated, then gently gestured that he wanted to hug her. She accepted. She needed it, too.
"Promise me you'll never use it. Or even if you must, never use it recklessly."
Riley couldn't bring herself to reply. She stayed silent. After a long silence, she finally force herself to respond, giving him a soft nod in his arms.
Their conversation lasted until nearly midnight. She would have usually fallen fast asleep by then-she was, after all, only eight years old.
But that night, her thoughts refused to settle. She lay beneath the covers, staring up at the painted sky.
Memoria.
A macht of memory.
A gift from her birth mother- and a curse.
Riley's mind wandered far beyond the ceiling. Too many truths, too many questions, for a girl with no past. Cana-her birth mother. Ramona-her mother's sister. And that boy.
If it was all true... if what she saw wasn't imagination...
Then that boy wasn't just a dream.
Maybe-just maybe- he was real.