He hadn't stepped back.
Not even once.
When she opened her arms, he surrendered without resistance, as if pulled into a memory stronger than himself.
But it wasn't a memory.She was there. Solid.Breathing. Warm.
And yet, something didn't fit.
He didn't know what.Or maybe he didn't want to know.There was no sweat, no pain, no metallic tang.Just… this room, too quiet. Too clean.
And her.Exactly as in his memories.Same voice. Same gaze.Same warmth against his chest.
Too exact.
He used their embrace to glance discreetly around.
Everything was in place.
The furniture.The curtains.Even the photo frame on the dresser—slightly tilted—the one of their parents. He hadn't seen it in years. Yet here it was. As if nothing had ever moved.
Part of him should have felt joy.But something was off.
Why the unease now?Why that faint but persistent knot in his gut?
And most of all…
What was I doing just before I came here?
— What was I doing… last night? he asked, without really thinking.
She didn't look surprised.
— You went out, didn't you? With your team. And your girlfriend. To celebrate your promotion.She smiled, as if it were obvious.
Promotion.Team.Girlfriend.
He nodded slowly, but nothing followed. No faces. No scenes.
Only a dull noise.An irritating buzz behind his temples.
A migraine?
He lifted a hand to his forehead instinctively.The ache was there—diffuse, but real.
He thought of alcohol. Of shared glasses. Of a too-short night.It was plausible. Almost comforting.
Blurry memory. Nothing unusual.That's what he told himself.
But that, precisely, was the problem:Nothing was unusual. Nothing at all.
And yet…
He was certain he had no girlfriend.Not now. Not in a long time.Work consumed everything.And besides Adam, he remembered no "team."
But at the very moment that thought formed—like a stone dropped into calm water—the migraine struck harder.
Sudden.Invasive.
A flood of images crashed through him.
A woman's laugh, familiar.Glances exchanged.A hand brushing his in a restaurant.An office party, blurry faces, a clap on the back.Bright frames. Conversations. A life.
Everything felt… real. Lived.
But Adam was nowhere.
And this girl—he knew her face, her name, her voice—but he couldn't remember ever loving her.
Then a question surged.Silent.Sharp.
Who is Adam?
If Kael's memory had been a lake,it had become this:a tepid surface,evaporating under a too-perfect sun.
And the rain filling it…wasn't his.
Another water replaced it.Foreign. Unknown.But so steady, so soft, it was hard to distrust.
And yet…
A voice.
Muffled.Almost drowned beneath the surface.Echoing somewhere in his head.
Impossible to tell whose it was.Impossible even to know if it had ever existed.
But it was there.Muted.Persistent.
Like a tear fallen into a dream too calm.
And for no reason, it reminded him of an old legend.
A woman living at the bottom of a lake.One of the Arthurian tales his sister used to read.
He knew it had no connection.But the image pressed on him.As if the memory of that still, silent lady had stirred something ancient.
And suddenly…
Last night.His memories.Everything crackled, like an old tape rewound too many times.
Words pierced through the noise.Weak.Staggered.But there.
— Kael… stay…Don't… leave me…
And at that precise moment,heavy rain crashed on the roof.
A distant rumble.Then a crash.
As if the weather itself answered that voice.
Or rather…
As if the rainwas nothing but the tears of that weeping voice.A forgotten grief falling from the sky.A buried memory, pounding at the door.
And then—the pain exploded.
Not just a migraine.A collapse.An internal detonation.
He fell to his knees,hands clamped against his skull,a scream ripping from him like a beast being slaughtered.
Something was forcing its way in.
Rewriting.Reformatting.As if his mind were being crushed, rebuilt, crushed again.
Memories broke.Blended.Names, images, voices—
Then, after what felt like eternity—
A word.
Just one.
Escaping his mouth.Beyond control.Beyond the lie.
— Thana…
The instant that name left his lips,the universe wavered.
The lake—perfect, clear, reassuring—stained black at its center, spreading outward like infection.A blot expanding in circles, swallowing clarity.
Then it boiled.Literally.Black bubbles burst across the surface, as if reality itself were melting.
And there—something appeared.Someone.
A female figure, suspended in the void.No taller than Lyana.Black hair.Limbs spread, chained by shadow.
She didn't scream.She didn't cry.
She waited.
And Kael…
He didn't think.He didn't decide.
His body moved.
He leapt.His mind still frozen, but his muscles already acting.Breath cut.Eyes locked on her.
He didn't know why.
But he…his body…remembered.
And at the exact moment his hand brushed her face—
A flood.A deluge.
Memories.Fragments.Cries.Pacts.Truths.
A ceaseless stream, unbroken,poured into his mind.
It didn't stop.
Each memory was a blade.Each image, a weight.Words spoken.Pacts sealed.Deaths.
Then, everything cracked.
Light shattered into a thousand fragments.The ground collapsed.The black water imploded with a muffled roar.
Kael screamed, without even hearing his own voice.
His body was flung backward.The air froze.And suddenly, all went dark.
Silence.
Black.
Then—
An impact.
Cold.Harsh.Rough.
He opened his eyes.
Stone beneath him, cracked.The stench of mold, acrid.Moisture clung to his skin.
No bed.No sunlight.No Lyana.
Only silence.The second floor.
And in his chest—that name,seared raw.
Thana.