Chapter Five: The Weight of Forever
Alex hated watching her sleep.
Sylvia lay curled on the makeshift bedding within the forest sanctuary, her breathing steady, her aura faintly glowing like embers beneath ash. She looked peaceful—too peaceful for someone whose world had just been torn open.
That peace was his fault.
And so was the pain.
Alex turned away before guilt could drive him to do something reckless. He stepped deeper into the forest, where moonlight filtered through ancient branches and the earth hummed with fox magic still unfamiliar to him.
"You're pacing again."
Kael's voice came from the shadows.
Alex stopped.
The massive black wolf emerged, fur like liquid night, eyes glowing with a knowing sharpness. Kael didn't shift into human form. He rarely did when Alex looked like this—torn, fraying, ancient.
"I lied to her," Alex said flatly.
Kael snorted. "That's new?"
Alex shot him a glare. "Not like this."
Kael sat, tail flicking once. "You kept the truth from her. That's not the same as betrayal."
"It feels like it," Alex snapped. "Every time she looks at me without suspicion, it feels like another knife."
Kael tilted his head. "You've worn masks for centuries, Alex. Why does this one weigh more?"
Alex clenched his fists.
"Because she trusted me," he said quietly. "As her brother's friend. As someone harmless. I let her believe I was just… there."
Kael's ears flattened. "You were there."
"I was there while she suffered," Alex shot back. "I watched them break her. I listened while they sealed her voice, her power, her memories—and I did nothing."
Kael growled low. "You would have died if you interfered openly."
"I'm immortal," Alex said bitterly. "Death has never stopped me before."
Kael went still.
"That's exactly the problem," the wolf said after a moment. "You forget what mortality feels like."
Alex laughed—short, humorless. "You think I don't remember? I've died enough times to know."
Kael stood and shifted smoothly into human form, tall and broad, dark hair falling loose around his shoulders. "Then stop pretending this is the same."
Alex looked away.
"Say it," Kael pressed. "Say why this hurts."
Alex's jaw tightened. "Because she's tied to a past I can't outrun."
Silence stretched between them.
"You found her," Kael said quietly. "You never told me everything about that day."
Alex closed his eyes.
"She wasn't crying like a baby," he said. "She was calling. Her magic was raw—unformed—but ancient. The sanctuary was burning. Fox blood everywhere. I felt it before I saw it."
Kael's expression darkened. "A massacre."
"Yes," Alex said. "And she was the only one left."
Kael exhaled slowly. "And you chose to live forever after that."
Alex opened his eyes sharply. "You know why."
Kael nodded. "You took the oath."
Immortality.
A blessing whispered by desperate gods and cursed by those who lived long enough to understand it.
"I thought I could watch over her," Alex continued. "Guide her from the shadows. Make sure she survived."
"And instead," Kael said gently, "you became part of the lie."
Alex's shoulders slumped.
"She doesn't remember," Alex said. "Not really. The seal broke, but her memories are still locked. The sanctuary. The blood. Her real name."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "So the fox hasn't fully awakened."
"No," Alex replied. "She's only stepped through the first gate."
Kael crossed his arms. "What happens when the rest unlock?"
Alex swallowed. "She'll remember who betrayed her first."
"And who saved her," Kael added.
Alex shook his head. "She'll remember me standing there. Choosing politics over her."
Kael stepped closer. "You chose survival."
"I chose fear," Alex corrected. "And now I'm terrified of what happens when she sees me clearly."
Kael studied him for a long moment. "Do you regret being immortal?"
Alex let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh. "Every century."
Kael smirked faintly. "Still beats dying."
"No," Alex said softly. "It doesn't."
He looked back toward the clearing where Sylvia slept.
"Everyone I care about ages," Alex continued. "They forget. They die. And I stay. Watching history repeat itself."
"And Sylvia?" Kael asked.
Alex's voice dropped. "She's different."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Because she's a fox?"
"Because she remembers even when she doesn't," Alex said. "She felt me in her dreams before she knew my face. Our bond existed before time caught up."
Kael frowned. "That's dangerous."
"Yes," Alex agreed. "For both of us."
Kael glanced toward the sky. "The Council won't wait forever."
"They won't have to," Alex replied. "Once Sylvia's memories awaken, the world will move whether we're ready or not."
"And if she hates you?" Kael asked.
Alex closed his eyes.
"Then I'll accept it," he said. "I've lived long enough to deserve consequences."
Kael sighed. "You're an idiot."
Alex smiled faintly. "Immortality doesn't cure that."
They stood in silence for a moment longer.
Far away, proof of fox magic rippled through the forest—subtle, but growing.
Kael stiffened. "She's stirring."
Alex turned sharply. "Already?"
"She's dreaming," Kael said. "Deep ones."
Alex felt his chest tighten.
"She's getting closer," Kael added. "To remembering."
Alex nodded slowly. "Then I won't lie again."
Kael smirked. "Good. Because when a nine-tailed fox remembers the truth…"
He trailed off.
Alex finished it quietly.
"…the world burns."
He turned back toward Sylvia, every immortal year weighing heavy on his shoulders.
For the tells he told.
For the truths he buried.
And for the moment coming fast—
when Sylvia White would finally remember who she was
Far far away
"She's back and I don't think he can help hide her"