The night remained quiet after the storm of fire and shadow. The air smelled of scorched earth and spent magic. Embers floated gently like dying fireflies.
Serenya still held her sword, but the blade no longer burned. It only glowed faintly, as if it shared its wielder's confusion.
—"You could have killed me," she said, without looking at her.
Lyssara sat on a nearby rock, watching the purple blood slowly drip from her cheek.
—"So could you."
An awkward silence settled between them. Kaelith stood at a distance, not daring to intervene.
Serenya sheathed her weapon with a sharp motion.
—"This doesn't change anything. I still don't trust you. I just… don't see the point in killing you if you truly remember nothing."
Lyssara looked at her.
—"I don't remember your sister. I don't remember this world. But I feel things that aren't mine. Voices whisper in my sleep. Emotions drown me when I look at the moon. Maybe… I was her. Maybe not."
—"Don't speak her name lightly," Serenya growled, turning toward her with tense eyes.
—"What was it?"
Serenya paused.
—"Elenya."
The sound of the name lingered in the air like a long-held secret. Lyssara repeated it in her mind… and a blurred image crossed her thoughts: a girl laughing in shadowed gardens, golden eyes glowing with affection.Was it real?Or just a residual memory?
—"What was she like?" Lyssara asked softly.
Serenya tensed.
—"I'm not here to tell you stories."
But her hands trembled slightly.
Lyssara stood. The space between them shrank.
—"You loved her. You don't hate me just for what you think I did. You hate me… because it still hurts that she didn't choose you."
The words cut like blades. Serenya lowered her gaze. She didn't deny it.
—"I don't want your pity, monster."
—"I'm not offering pity. I'm offering truth. Or the closest thing to it."
They stood just one step apart. The tension between them was thick, as if the air could shatter with a sigh. Serenya looked up. For a second, her eyes didn't shine with hatred—but with fragile doubt.
—"You're playing with fire," she murmured.
Lyssara smiled, just barely.
—"And you… have always lived in it."
Kaelith called from afar, uneasy.
—"We can talk more… once we're out of this place. The forest isn't empty."
Serenya turned away without another word, but her steps were slower.
Lyssara followed.
The truce wasn't trust. It wasn't forgiveness.
But it was something.
And beneath the ashes of their hatred… something else burned in silence.