Cold fingers touched her cheek.
Gentle. Careful. The touch of someone checking for injury rather than offering comfort.
Nana's eyes fluttered open, consciousness returning in fragments. Forest canopy above. Darkness pressing in from all sides. The smell of pine and earth and something else—something sharp and chemical that her brain identified as Wanderer dust.
And hazel eyes. Beautiful hazel eyes like a forest washed in morning light,staring down at her with concern and confusion.
"Zayne," she breathed.
"You're awake." His voice was clinical, professional. The voice of a doctor assessing a patient rather than a partner greeting his lover. "Don't move too quickly. You might have a concussion."
Nana's hand shot up instinctively, reaching for his face. She needed to touch him, needed to confirm he was real and solid and here.
Zayne flinched slightly at the sudden movement but didn't pull away. Just watched her with those cautious eyes as her fingers traced his jawline, his cheekbone, the familiar planes of his face that she'd memorized across lifetimes.
"You're here," she said, and her voice cracked. "You're really here. We made it. We both made it out."
Something flickered in Zayne's expression. Confusion, maybe. Or concern that she wasn't making sense.
"Made it out of what?" he asked carefully. "The Wanderer attack? Yes, we survived. Barely. I think a piece of debris hit my head—everything's a bit fuzzy—but we're both alive."
Nana's breath caught. She sat up despite his protest, ignoring the way the world spun slightly, and really looked at him.
He was exactly as she remembered from that day. The day they'd first fallen through the portal together. Dark coat, pristine and clean. No dust. No dirt. No blood or scars or evidence of the hell they'd just survived. His hair was perfectly styled, not the slightly-too-long mess it had been in Avalon. His hands, reaching out to steady her, showed bruises near the knuckles—fresh bruises, the kind you'd get from fighting Wanderers.
Not the calluses and scars from nine months of survival. Not the rope burns from climbing the Ancient Tree. Not the hundreds of tiny injuries that had accumulated over their time in that nightmare realm.
He looked exactly like he had before Avalon. Before everything.
"What..." Nana's hands moved to her own body, patting down her clothes with growing horror. "No. No, this isn't—"
She was wearing her hunter gear. The same outfit she'd been wearing that day in the forest. Her hair was long—she could feel it brushing her shoulders. Her hunter gun was strapped to her thigh, fully loaded, looking like it had never been fired.
Around them, Wanderer dust was settling. The distinctive shimmer of creatures that had been destroyed, their essence dissolving into the air.
And behind them, where the ice cave should have been—where the portal to Avalon had existed—there was nothing. Just rock and trees and perfectly normal forest.
Like the cave had never existed. Like Avalon had never existed.
Like the last nine months had been erased.
"The portal," Nana said, scrambling to her feet despite Zayne's protest. "The ice cave. Where is it? It was right here!"
She ran to the spot, her hands searching the rock face desperately. But there was nothing. No opening. No crack. No evidence that a portal to another realm had ever existed in this place.
"Nana." Zayne was standing now, swaying slightly, one hand pressed to his head. "What portal? What are you talking about?"
She spun to face him, and the expression on his face made her heart shatter.
He was looking at her the way you'd look at someone having a mental breakdown. Concerned. Cautious. Ready to call for medical help.
He didn't remember.
Of course he didn't remember. He'd died six times in Avalon. Six rebirths that had stripped away his memories again and again. The portal had brought him back, had reset his body to what it had been before Avalon claimed him.
But it had also reset his mind. Erased everything they'd been through together. Every fight, every quiet moment, every kiss and promise and desperate plan to escape.
Gone. All of it gone.
"Zayne." Nana's voice was shaking now, tears already forming. "What do you remember? Tell me what you remember about today."
He hesitated, clearly worried about her state of mind, but answered. "I was walking through the forest to clear my mind after I lost my patients,untill a wanderers suddenly appear".
He touched his head gingerly. "Something hit me. A rock, I think, thrown by one of the larger ones. Everything after that is fuzzy until I woke up a few minutes ago and saw you lying nearby."
"And me?" Nana pressed. "What do you remember about me?"
"You're a hunter from the Association. You must have been in the area too, heard the fighting and came to help." His brow furrowed. "Though I don't remember seeing you during the fight. The last thing I clearly remember is falling, hitting my head, and then... nothing until I woke up."
No memories of the portal. No memories of falling through together. No memories of Avalon or the Ancient Tree or the Wish Bridge.
No memories of loving her.
Nana felt something break inside her chest. A sob tore from her throat—raw and painful and full of a grief so vast it threatened to swallow her whole.
"No," she whispered. "No, no, no. This isn't fair. We made it out together. We both made it out. You were supposed to—"
She couldn't finish. The sobs were coming too fast now, too hard. Her whole body shook with them as nine months of trauma and love and desperate hope crashed down on her all at once.
They'd escaped. They'd won. They'd crossed that bridge together and made it through the portal as the vampires dissolved behind them.
But the cost—the cost was everything they'd built in Avalon. Every memory Zayne had of choosing her, protecting her, loving her without the burden of their past. Every moment they'd shared was gone from his mind like it had never existed.
She was the only one who remembered. The only one who carried the weight of what they'd survived.
Again.
"Nana." Zayne's voice was closer now. He'd moved toward her despite his obvious dizziness. "You're not making sense. You need medical attention. Let me—"
"Don't touch me!" The words came out harsh, desperate. Because if he touched her with those careful, clinical hands—if he looked at her with that professional concern instead of the love she'd seen in his eyes just hours ago—she would shatter completely.
Zayne stopped, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "Okay. I won't touch you. But you're clearly in shock. Possibly concussed. We need to get you to a hospital."
"I don't need a hospital." Nana wrapped her arms around herself, trying to physically hold the pieces together. "I need you to remember. I need you to remember Avalon and the Ancient Tree and the blood moon. I need you to remember climbing together and planning our escape and promising me that we'd both make it out."
"Avalon?" Zayne repeated carefully. "I don't... I don't know what that is."
Of course he didn't. How could he? The portal had erased it all. Had given him back his body, his life, his chance to continue existing in the real world.
But it had taken him from her. Had stolen the version of Zayne who'd chosen her over and over, who'd kissed her and held her and promised they'd face everything together.
The man standing in front of her now was the Zayne from before. The one who'd carried strawberry candies for her but was too reserved to admit his feelings. The one who didn't know her, not really. Not the way the Zayne in Avalon had known her.
"I'm sorry," Nana managed through her tears. "I'm sorry. You're right. I'm not making sense. I just—"
Her legs gave out. The emotional weight was too much, pulling her down toward the forest floor.
Zayne caught her before she could fall. His arms wrapped around her—steady, professional, completely devoid of the recognition she desperately needed to see.
He lowered them both to the ground carefully, keeping her supported. "It's okay. You're in shock. Probably hit your head too. Just breathe. Can you breathe for me?"
Nana pressed her face into his shoulder and sobbed. Because he was here and alive and safe, but he was also gone. The Zayne who'd loved her was gone, replaced by this stranger who happened to have the same face.
"It's cold out here," Zayne said after a moment. His voice was gentle, concerned. "And it's the middle of the night. Let me..."
He shifted, carefully removing his coat while still supporting her weight. Then he wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling it tight to ward off the chill.
The gesture was so achingly familiar—he'd done the same thing in Avalon, had wrapped her in his coat or his arms or whatever warmth he could provide. But then it had been an act of love. Now it was just... kindness. Professional concern for an injured colleague.
"There," Zayne said, adjusting the coat. "That should help. Now, I'm going to call for transport. Get us both checked out properly."
He pulled out his phone—his phone that still worked, that had never been dead for nine months in a realm where electricity didn't exist—and started dialing.
Nana watched him through blurry vision. Watched him speak calmly to whoever answered, giving their location and requesting medical assistance. Watched him being competent and controlled and everything a good doctor should be.
And she realized, with crushing finality, that he was treating her exactly the way he'd treat any patient. Any stranger who needed help.
Because to him, that's what she was. A colleague he barely knew. Someone who'd happened to be in the same forest at the same time. Someone who was clearly having some kind of breakdown and needed medical attention.
Not his partner. Not his lover. Not the woman who'd searched for him for six months and then spent three more months by his side, fighting to survive and escape together.
Just... a stranger.
The taxi arrived surprisingly quickly—Zayne must have good connections, or maybe the Association had rapid response protocols for injured hunters. Either way, within twenty minutes, they were being loaded into a vehicle.
Zayne helped her into the back seat with professional courtesy. Made sure she was buckled in. Gave the driver her address, which he must have looked up in some Association database.
He didn't get in beside her. Stayed standing outside the door, one hand on the frame.
"The driver will take you home," Zayne said. "I'll file the incident report and make sure someone from medical follows up with you tomorrow. Try to rest, and if you experience any worsening symptoms—headache, nausea, confusion—go to the emergency room immediately."
Nana stared at him. "You're not coming?"
"I need to get checked out myself. And file the paperwork. But don't worry—you'll be taken care of." He gave her a small, professional smile. "Try to get some sleep. Things will look better in the morning."
Then he closed the door and stepped back.
The taxi pulled away, taking her home. Away from the forest. Away from the spot where the portal had been. Away from Zayne, who was already turning to walk in the opposite direction.
Nana twisted in her seat to watch him through the rear window. Watched him get smaller and smaller as distance grew between them.
He didn't look back. Didn't wave. Just walked away like she was any other patient he'd helped, already moving on to the next thing.
And Nana sat in the back of that taxi, wrapped in his coat that still smelled like him, and cried.
She'd brought him home. Had succeeded in her impossible mission to escape Avalon together.
But she'd lost him anyway.
Because what was the point of escaping together if he didn't remember? What was the point of surviving when she was the only one who carried the weight of what they'd been through?
She was home. Safe. Alive.
And completely, devastatingly alone.
The taxi drove through the dark streets of Linkon City, and Nana watched the familiar buildings pass by through tear-blurred vision, wondering how she was supposed to go back to her normal life when nothing about this felt normal at all.
How was she supposed to smile and pretend everything was fine when the man she loved had just looked at her like a stranger?
How was she supposed to live with these memories when she was the only one who had them?
How was she supposed to survive this?
.
.
.
.
.
To be continued.