The icy wind howled outside the cave, but inside, the only sound was the soft crackle of flames and the quiet, rhythmic breathing of two souls who shouldn't have been alone together.
Joel sat opposite Elora, his golden eyes reflecting the firelight as he watched her, brows drawn in quiet frustration. She hadn't said a word since he helped her out of the pit. Her eyes stayed glued to the fire, arms wrapped around her knees like a shield. It was as if she'd shut herself off completely.
"Elora," he began softly, his voice breaking the silence that had stretched for what felt like hours. "You haven't asked me anything. Not one thing about what just happened."
She didn't look up.
Joel leaned forward slightly, a plea in his tone. "I know you have questions. About the cave. About what you saw... About why I'm even here."
She finally stirred, lifting her eyes slowly to meet his. The fire cast flickering shadows over her face, but it couldn't hide the tightness in her jaw, or the storm that brewed behind her eyes.
"Why did you help me?" she asked, her voice low, a little hoarse. "Why now?"
Joel didn't answer right away. He stared at her as if searching for the right words—or maybe the strength to speak them.
"Because I promised your mother I would," he said finally.
Elora's breath caught.
The words slipped into the silence and took root like a vine, curling around her chest and tightening.
"My… my mother?" she echoed, the words foreign in her mouth. "You knew her?"
Joel nodded once, slowly.
"I knew her well. She was brave… stubborn, just like you. She cared about people more than herself. And before she died, she made me swear—swear that if anything happened to her, I'd find you. Protect you."
Elora's lips parted, but no words came. She stared at him, trying to piece together a puzzle that had always been missing too many pieces.
"She died protecting someone," Joel added, softer now. "You."
The fire popped and sizzled between them.
Elora felt the tremble in her fingertips before she realized she was shaking. She'd spent so many nights wondering about her parents. Who they were. If they'd loved her. If they'd even wanted her.
"She never abandoned you," Joel said, his voice steady but thick. "She was murdered."
A heavy silence fell, pressing into her chest like a weight. Elora's throat tightened.
"Murdered," she whispered. "By who?"
Joel looked away. His jaw tensed, fists clenching in his lap.
"By someone you know," he said, barely above a whisper. "Someone still close to you."
The room spun. The cave, the fire, Joel's face—all of it blurred for a moment.
"What do you mean?"
"Elora, you weren't just taken from your family. Your memory was tampered with. You were placed with a new name, a new life, a new identity—so you wouldn't remember who you are."
Elora stared at him, horror clawing its way up her throat.
"I'm saying someone used magic to erase your past."
She shot to her feet, stumbling back from the fire. "No. That's not—no, that's insane. That's not possible!"
Joel stood too, slowly, not making any sudden moves.
"It is. You've felt it, haven't you? Flashes you can't explain? Dreams that feel too real?"
Her lips trembled. "Those were just dreams."
"No," Joel said firmly. "They were memories. Your memories."
Her knees buckled slightly, and she braced herself against the cave wall. The stone was cold beneath her palm, grounding her, but not enough to stop the shaking.
Joel didn't move toward her. He just stood there, watching her fall apart in silence.
"I saw things in that pit," she whispered, her voice raw. "Images, faces. A woman with my eyes… she was crying. She called me something. E–Elowen."
At the name, Joel's expression shattered into a mix of grief and hope.
"That was your real name," he said. "Elowen. Elora was the name they gave you after. A false identity to hide the truth."
The fire crackled louder now, as if it, too, was reacting to the truth finally being spoken.
Elora pressed her back to the wall, her arms wrapping around herself as she shook her head over and over. "No. No, no, no. This isn't happening. I can't—this is too much."
Joel took a step closer, just one. "I know. But you deserve to know the truth. And it's time you stopped running from it."
She stared at him, breathing hard, heart pounding so loudly it roared in her ears.
"All this time… all the pain, the confusion… it wasn't me going crazy. It was them," she said bitterly. "They did this to me."
"Yes," Joel said. "And the worst part is… the person behind it is someone you trusted."
Elora swallowed hard. Her stomach churned. The fire's warmth felt suffocating now.
"Who?" she demanded, her voice sharp, broken.
"I can't say. Not yet," Joel said, his face hardening. "You wouldn't believe me if I did. Not until you see it yourself."
"That's not fair!"
"I know. But trust has to be rebuilt, Elowen. And right now, yours has been shattered too many times."
She looked at him—truly looked at him—for the first time since they entered the cave. He wasn't the same man she'd run from all those weeks ago. There was weariness in his eyes. Sorrow. But also, something else: a fierce, unwavering devotion.
"You really knew my mother?" she asked again, barely above a whisper.
Joel nodded.
"She saved my life once," he said. "And I owed her mine. So now… I'm here to do the same for you."
Tears burned at the back of Elora's eyes, but she blinked them away. She didn't want to cry. Not now. Not again.
"I don't know who I am anymore," she whispered.
"You're Elowen," Joel said gently. "A daughter, a warrior… someone whose story was stolen. But you can take it back."
Elora lowered her eyes. She wanted to believe him. So badly. But the fear, the doubt—they held her in a chokehold.
Still… something had shifted inside her. That name—Elowen—it didn't feel wrong. It felt like a spark in the dark. Faint, but real.
She stepped away from the wall and sat down slowly beside the fire again, her body heavy with exhaustion and emotion.
Joel didn't speak. He sat with her, letting the silence stretch—not awkwardly, but with shared understanding.
For a long time, they just sat there.
Two souls bound by pain. By loss. By something neither fully understood yet.
And as the fire danced and shadows flickered across the cave walls, Elora finally whispered, "What do I do now?"
Joel looked at her, and his voice was steady when he said, "You remember. And then we fight."