Days had passed since I'd heard her voice whispering to the darkness, the words meant for no ear but her own — or perhaps, something far more sinister. Each morning, I woke with the same heavy knot twisting in my gut, the question burning hotter than any wound: Do I ask her? Or do I keep pretending I don't know?
I paced the temple halls like a restless ghost, every glance toward her room a battle between fear and hope. What if the truth drove her away? Or worse — what if it swallowed us both whole?
But silence felt like poison, eating at the fragile thread holding us together. The mark on her chest haunted me, a silent scream beneath the skin that I couldn't ignore.
I wasn't sure which was worse — the unknown, or the secrets we kept from each other.
I found her sitting quietly near the window, the soft light of dawn spilling over her like a fragile glow. The weight of what I'd overheard hung between us like a shadow, but I knew this moment wasn't about accusations or fear. It was about trust.
Taking a slow breath, I stepped closer, my voice barely more than a whisper. "Auralia… can we talk? I don't want to pry, but I can't pretend I didn't hear you. You don't have to carry it alone."
Her eyes met mine—guarded, uncertain—but I reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face gently. "You're my friend, and so much more. Whatever you're facing, we'll face it together."
The silence that followed wasn't empty. It was the fragile space where honesty could begin.
Auralia's eyes flickered with something unreadable — pain, fear, maybe even relief. She swallowed hard, her hands twisting nervously in her lap.
"I never wanted you to see that side of me," she whispered, voice trembling. "The Whispers… they haunt me. I've spent years running from what they did, from who they tried to make me. Sometimes it feels like their shadow is still wrapped around me, no matter how far I go."
Her gaze dropped, but I gently lifted her chin with a finger, forcing her to meet my eyes again.
"You don't have to run anymore," I said softly. "You don't have to carry their darkness alone. Whatever it is — your past, your fears — I'm here. We'll face it together."
She hesitated, then nodded slowly. A fragile hope sparked in her eyes, like the first light of dawn breaking through a long night.
"I want to believe that," she breathed. "More than anything."
And in that moment, I knew this wasn't just about the shadows of her past. It was about the strength we could find in each other — even when the world seemed determined to tear us apart.
Auralia took a deep breath, the weight of years pressing down on her shoulders as she finally began to speak.
"I was taken when I was very young," she said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. "The Whispers of Asix… they're not just a cult or a god's followers. They're an assassin's guild — feared across many lands. They trained me to be silent, deadly, to move like a shadow and strike without mercy."
Her fingers clenched at the edge of her sleeve, knuckles white.
"I wasn't given a choice. I was their ward, raised to serve their purpose. Every part of me was shaped by their will — taught to dislocate my bones without pain, to slip through cracks unseen, to kill if necessary." Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "But I never wanted that life. I wanted freedom. I wanted to be more than a weapon."
She looked up, her gaze locking with mine.
"That night I escaped… It was the hardest thing I've ever done. I left everything behind — my family, the only world I'd known. And I've been running ever since, trying to find a life that isn't ruled by death and shadows."
Her voice faltered, but she pressed on. "I'm telling you this because I trust you, Eiran. Because I don't want to keep hiding anymore. But I'm scared — scared of what might happen if they ever find me again."
I reached out, taking her hands in mine, steadying her trembling frame.
"You're not alone," I promised. "Whatever comes, we face it together. You're not just a shadow or a weapon. You're so much more. And I won't let them take you back."
A flicker of a smile touched her lips, fragile but real.
"For the first time in a long time," she said softly, "I believe that might just be true."
I took a shaky breath, my heart pounding as I met Auralia's gaze. The weight of her confession made it easier—if only a little—to share my own.
"There's something I've never told anyone," I began, voice low, almost a whisper. "Something I've carried like a wound in my soul." I swallowed hard, the memory clawing its way to the surface. "When I was younger… I found my mother's wand. I thought I could use it, just a little, to prove I wasn't powerless."
My hands clenched into fists, the memory burning sharp. "But I didn't know how to control it. The magic… it spiraled out of control. It wasn't just a simple mistake — it destroyed everything." My voice cracked. "My mother and my brother… they died because of me."