The lantern light trembled as Seris stepped through the doorway.
She didn't remember where she had come from—only that she had been running, chased by shadows whispering her name in a hundred different voices. Her breath shivered in her lungs as she pressed her back against the cold stone wall and tried to steady herself.
The House was awake again.
She could feel it in the air: a low, shuddering pulse, like the heartbeat of something too large to see. The breath of a place that was not entirely a place. The hunger of a creature that pretended to be a home.
Ash drifted lazily around her, glowing faintly in the lantern light before dissolving into nothing.
Her fingers tightened around the lantern's handle. Its warmth felt alive, pulsing in sync with the faint blue lines beneath her skin. A reminder of her magic—of what she was capable of, and what she had once done.
What she might do again.
A whisper curled through the corridor.
"Seris…"
She froze.
The voice was soft. Broken. Hurt.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
Her heartbeat stumbled. A pressure built behind her eyes, like a memory trying to claw its way out. Her hand trembled as she lifted the lantern higher.
"Who's there?" she called, though she already knew.
Only one voice in the world made her chest tighten like this.
A figure stepped out from the shadows ahead.
Tall. Dark hair. Ash running down his shoulders like snowfall. His expression somewhere between relief and fear.
Arden.
Her breath caught painfully.
He looked at her the way someone looked at sunlight after being buried alive—like he'd been searching for her for years instead of minutes. Like she was the only thing keeping him upright.
She fought the instinct to reach out.
"Arden," she whispered.
His name was dangerous on her tongue, like a spell she wasn't meant to cast.
He stepped closer, painfully slow, as if afraid she would vanish if he moved too quickly.
"I found you," he said softly. His voice cracked. "Finally."
Seris shook her head.
She stepped back so fast the lantern flame fluttered.
"No. Don't—don't come closer."
Arden froze. Confusion flickered across his face. "Why? Seris, I—"
"You shouldn't touch me." Her voice trembled despite her effort to sound steady. "Not here. Not yet."
The House rumbled underfoot, as if agreeing.
Arden's hands curled helplessly at his sides. "Seris… I don't understand what's happening. I don't remember anything. Except you."
Her heart twisted.
He looked so lost. So hopeful. So painfully familiar.
"I remember," she whispered. "I wish I didn't."
He flinched like she had struck him. His shoulders hunched, and he stepped back.
Seris swallowed. She hadn't meant to hurt him. But the truth was a blade—they both had to bleed beneath it.
She drew a breath, forcing the words out before she lost her courage.
"You will kill me, Arden."
Silence crushed the corridor.
His eyes widened. "What?"
"Not now. Not like this." Her voice shook. "But in another life, you did. I saw it. I felt it."
Arden stumbled back until his hand hit the wall. His breathing turned sharp. His eyes darted around the corridor as if searching for something that could prove her wrong.
"That's not—" He shook his head violently. "No. No, I would never hurt you."
Seris lifted the lantern between them. The flame cast long shadows across her face, revealing the trembling she couldn't hide.
"You already have."
Arden stared at her in horror.
The lantern light flickered again, echoing the instability in the air. The walls of the corridor shifted—subtle at first, then more visibly. The stones twisted, reshaping themselves like wet clay. The House was listening.
Seris steadied herself and whispered urgently, "We need to move. It's waking up. It doesn't like when we talk about this."
Arden hesitated.
She extended her free hand—palm open, but with distance still between them.
"Come with me," she said quietly. "But don't touch me."
He exhaled shakily and nodded.
---
They walked through the twisting corridors in silence, the lantern pulling faintly toward different paths as if guiding them. The air grew colder the deeper they went, the breathing of the House more pronounced, almost impatient.
Arden watched her every few seconds, as though afraid she would disappear again.
Finally, he spoke.
"Seris… you said you saw me kill you." His voice wavered. "How?"
She paused before answering, choosing her words carefully.
"It wasn't like a true memory. More like a… fragment. A glimpse. I don't know if it was really you, or a version of you, or something the House wanted me to see."
He exhaled shakily. "Then maybe it isn't real."
Seris gave him a soft, sad look.
"This place makes all things real."
Arden's jaw tightened.
He hated the fear in her eyes. Hated that his face—his name—had become something she flinched from. Even though his memory was hollow, something in him recoiled at the idea of hurting her.
He rubbed his temples, frustration simmering.
"I don't understand," he whispered. "If I hurt you once, why do I… care about you this much now? Why does your name feel like the only thing I have left?"
Seris stopped walking.
The lantern flame steadied, as if listening.
"Because," she said quietly, "you cared about me in every life."
He stared.
"Every life?"
She nodded. "The House traps us in loops. We're reborn again and again. Each time we meet. Each time we fall…" She hesitated. "…into something."
He swallowed. "Love?"
The word hung between them like a fragile glass shard.
Seris looked away.
"It always ends the same," she whispered. "We find each other. We lose each other. One of us dies. The House grows stronger."
Arden felt dizzy. "And one time… I killed you?"
Seris's voice cracked. "Yes."
A sharp pain lanced through him. He pressed a hand to his chest.
"But you don't remember it," Seris said quickly. "Not yet. Maybe you won't. Maybe this time can be different."
"Different," he echoed. The word felt like fragile hope. "Different how?"
Seris lifted the lantern. Its glow stretched down a spiraling stairway.
"There's something I need to show you," she said. "Something that might explain everything."
Arden nodded and followed.
They descended the stairs. The air thickened. Dust turned to ash. The walls pulsed faintly with sickly light.
Seris stopped at a large wooden door bound with black iron.
Carved across its surface—scratched deeply—was a single word:
SERIS
Arden reached out instinctively, but she caught his wrist before he could touch it.
"Don't," she whispered.
Her fingers against his skin felt like electricity. He froze—not from fear, but recognition. Something ancient and aching.
Seris snatched her hand back as if burned.
"You remember more than you're telling me," Arden said quietly.
Her breath hitched. "If you knew everything at once, the memories would tear you apart."
"Then tell me slowly," he murmured. "I want to understand, Seris. I want to understand us."
A tremor ran through her.
"There was an us," she whispered. "Many times over. And each time—"
Her voice broke.
"w—we destroyed each other."
A cold wind spiraled around them. Candles went out one by one.
Arden stepped closer—not touching, but close enough that she felt his warmth.
"Seris," he murmured, "I don't know who I was. Or what I did. But I swear—"
He hesitated.
"—I don't want to hurt you. I want to protect you."
She lifted her gaze.
For the first time since waking, Seris saw something in his eyes that broke her heart.
Hope.
Before she could speak, a loud crack split the air. The marked door groaned, then swung open on its own.
A rush of cold air spiraled out.
Seris lifted the lantern.
"Stay close," she whispered.
Arden followed her inside.
---
The room beyond was small. Circular. Silent.
In the center stood a tall mirror framed in obsidian. Its glass rippled like disturbed water.
Arden stepped forward, drawn to it.
"Seris… what is this place?"
Her voice was barely audible.
"It's where the House keeps the first memory."
"The first… memory?"
She nodded, trembling.
"The memory of how all of this began. The memory of our first life."
Arden turned slowly.
Fear rippled through Seris's expression, raw and unguarded.
"If you look into that mirror," she whispered, "you will see the truth."
The mirror surface began swirling faster, forming a deep vortex of light.
Arden felt the pull—an irresistible gravity tugging at his mind, his heart.
He whispered her name.
"Seris… come with me."
Her eyes filled with something he could not name—pain, longing, fear, love.
"No," she said softly. "This part… you have to see alone."
The mirror flared with blinding white light.
Arden took one step forward—
And the House exhaled, deep and hungry.
The mirror swallowed him whole.
Seris screamed his name—
But it was too late.
Darkness closed around him.
The past began to wake.