There was another silence, as though the world had dared to breathe—a moment afterward reminding itself that it was not yet allowed.
Liora's breath hugged her chest. The air, once merely cold, now held a stillness so complete it was as if time itself had been suspended. Her chin—still touched, albeit lightly, by a slender finger of impossible softness—was tilted ever so gently upward. Her eyes burned into the closed lids of the girl before her.
And the girl opened them.
Not with drama. Not with grandeur.
Just… gently.
But the impact was immediate.
Her lashes rose like the dusk dissolving into twilight, and under them, eyes the shade of pale moons after rainfalls gazed out—soft, silver, and impossibly deep. They did not shine. They didn't have to. Their very clarity hit with a subtle blow, like a memory returning from lifetimes past. She did not blink. She saw, really saw, and her eyes settled not on Liora, but behind her.
Kael.
The air buckled.
It did not arrive like wind, but pressure—huge, sudden, invisible. A weight that came from nothing, but smashed everything close to it. Kael felt it first. It was not physical at first, not in the sense that a blow would be. It was deeper. A sink in his stomach, a tightness in his chest, a slow crush that made his knees want to buckle.
But they didn't.
He clenched his teeth, flung his left foot rearward in a balancing stance, and plunged the tip of his sword into the ground. The ground seared the blade as it entered. His hands tightened on the hilt. His arms trembled, straining—but he did not fall.
Barely.
The pressure kept coming.
It was not magic. At least, not as the world knew it. This was prior to spellcraft. Something that arose out of will. Out of presence. It required no incantation, no motion. It simply was.
Liora gasped and took a step forward. "Stop… please—
Her voice cracked in her throat like thin ice.
The girl blinked.
And it stopped.
Exactly like that.
The tension dissipated as though it had never existed, and the area felt empty without it. Kael softly coughed, air trapped in his throat as he leaned further onto his sword. His heart continued to pound like a war drum suffocated in velvet. Sweat appeared at his brow, running down his cheek like a tear he would never cry.
Liora spun around, her eyes wide with guilt and surprise. "Kael…
But he dismissed her with a wave, saying nothing. His gaze remained on the girl.
She smiled.
Not at Kael.
At Liora.
It was the sort of smile that kids produce when they catch sight of something they've long been deprived of. Soft, unrestrained happiness stretched across her face, and for a second, the air of stillness appeared to throb softly, as if the sound of a heartbeat in an immense, abandoned cavern.
Her voice, when it finally came, was tiny. Playful. Like a wind-chime in a dream.
"You arrived too late."
She pouted.
Liora blinked, startled. "What…?"
I was bored," the girl went on, swaying gently on bare feet as if moving to a rhythm only she could hear. "So, so bored. I counted all the rocks. And all the leaves. And then the roots. And then the bugs. Then I started over.".
Liora looked to Elara, seeking wisdom. But the wind-sage only gazed, eyebrows furrowed, mouth slightly agape. She seemed confounded—not with terror, but with utter lack of comprehension.
Nothing the girl was saying made any sense.
Not to them.
Yet Kael's face changed.
He wasn't confused.
He said nothing.
Tense.
A nerve pulsed near his jawline, betraying the thoughts raging inside his head.
The girl giggled. It was high, carefree, and disarmingly sweet.
I spoke to the bark sometimes," she said to no one in particular. "They weren't friendly. Always creaking. But I did it anyway. I waited and waited and waited. Then you came. You're here now!
She cocked her head. "Why did you take so long?"
Liora, reeling from the abrupt change from threat to innocence, moved another step forward. "I… do you know me?"
The girl froze.
A blink.
Then her eyes went wide, and she smacked her own forehead with her hand. "Oh no! I forgot! I was talking and I didn't even say—aaaaghh!"
She whirled around in a little circle, nearly toppling, then halted and faced Liora again with both hands behind her back like a child caught pilfering fruit.
I am Lilithel," she said proudly. "Hello!
The name fell like a single drop into still water. Its ripples ran deep. Too deep. Elara's eyebrows furrowed almost imperceptibly, but she said nothing. It was clear the name meant nothing to her. Not yet.
However, Kael…
He flinched.
Practically unnoticed.
Liora placed her hand on her chest. "Lilithel…?"
The girl nodded enthusiastically. "Yup! That's me. I think."
"You think?"
Lilithel shrugged both shoulders. "I mean, I do remember. But I forgot some. Not all of them! Just the boring ones. Like words. Or places. Or years.".
Liora shared a dubious look with Elara.
Lilithel tilted her head. "Are you the Liora?"
Liora paused. "I'm. Liora, yes. But what do you mean the Liora?"
Lilithel did not respond. She was spinning again already, and abruptly stopped with deliberate intent. Her silver eyes settled on Kael—no longer warm.
It became cold again.
Kael's shoulders stiffened. He had not moved. Not an inch. Yet, Lilithel detected it.
Her expression darkened—not in ill humor, but annoyance. A kid who spotted a bug where it wasn't supposed to be in her drawing.
Her body flickered.
Not moved—flickered.
And in the silence between heartbeats, she stood again before Liora… but her hand was already raised.
Kael clenched his teeth and attempted to move, but the moment he attempted to even raise his foot, the pressure resumed.
No warning this time.
No wave.
Simply weight.
He dropped to one knee, sword again propped, but now the weight pressed harder. His hands dug into the hilt so tightly the leather creaked under his grip.
Lilithel did not glance at him. She faced Liora once more, her hand continuing to rub her chin.
"Why are you with him?" Her tone had shifted—softer, but deeper. Disapproving.
Liora's voice shook. "He's. he's saved my life. More than once. He's not—he's not who you think he is.".
A pause.
Lilithel blinked.
Then the tension slowly subsided.
Kael breathed sharply—his first complete breath in more than ten seconds—and stumbled backward, putting one hand behind him on the earth. He didn't speak. But his eyes didn't leave hers.
Lilithel gazed at Liora with a soft frown. "You're too soft. You always were."
Liora recoiled. "Always?
Lilithel frowned harder. "Oops."
Then, a beat.
A slow pivot.
She pivoted on bare feet, the movement graceful and sudden, and began to walk toward Kael.
Her tiny frame, hardly larger than a teenager's, contained no menace in its shape—but the silence of the world, the manner in which even the birds would not speak as she went by, spoke differently.
She halted two paces from him, her arms crossed.
Her silver eyes met his.
And for the first time since she had come out, Kael's eyes blazed. Something in his face cracked. Not fear. Not anger. But something ancient. Something he did not wish to feel.
Recognition.
Lilithel's lips curved downward.
Same expression.
Same look.
A perfect mirror of his own annoyance.
The world did not breathe.
And then…
She spoke.
But that—would wait.
For this instant, frozen in time, the two gazed at each other not as strangers.
But as echoes.
And the forest was silent.