CHAPTER 1
The city of Velreth never slept.
It survived by forgetting.
"That's the problem," she replied. "You're the only one who does."
Her name was Mara. At least, it was while Iseya looked at her.
The moment Iseya glanced away—even to breathe—the name unraveled, letters dissolving into sensation rather than sound. That was how Iseya knew Mara was marked.
Unrememberable.
That was why the Order of Silence existed.
Elion stood at the threshold of the lower city, her cloak drawn tight against a wind that smelled of dust and old rain. Above her, the spires of the upper tiers cut through the fog like ribs through flesh, each tower etched with runes designed to contain memory—to cage it, to keep the past from poisoning the present.
Her hand rested on the hilt of her blade, fingers steady despite the pull tightening in her chest.
She had tracked the Identity Thief for three nights.
Every trail led here.
The Vault.
It lay beneath the city like a buried heart, its pulse felt more than heard. Even standing still, Elion sensed it—pressure behind her eyes, a faint ringing in her ears, as though the world were whispering something she had been trained not to hear.
"Come out," she called, her voice sharp against the fog. "You're surrounded."
The lie echoed softly.
The Vault never allowed company.
Stone columns spiraled around her, each carved with names that had been erased and rewritten so many times they resembled layered scars. The air was colder here, thicker. Every breath tasted faintly of iron.
A soft laugh drifted from the shadows.
"You always lie when you're nervous."
Iseya's heart betrayed her, stuttering once before resuming its disciplined rhythm.
Mara stepped into the dim light.
She looked thinner than the last time Iseya had seen her—sharper, almost unreal. Dark hair fell loose around her face, and her eyes glinted with a light that didn't belong to the living. Shadows clung to her like devotion.
"Still hunting ghosts?" Mara asked.
Iseya raised her blade. "You are under arrest by decree of the Order of Silence. Surrender, and this ends cleanly."
Mara smiled slowly, knowingly. "You've never once wanted it to end cleanly."
The words struck too close. Iseya tightened her grip.
Mara was forbidden magic given form—an Identity Thief, someone who did not study spells but bonded with them, weaving emotion and desire into remembrance itself. It was intimate. Addictive. Illegal beyond forgiveness.
And Iseya had been chasing her for years.
"You shouldn't be here," Elion said quietly. "The Vault will tear you apart."
Mara's gaze flicked toward the stone beneath their feet. "It already did."
The hum deepened. The Vault responded to tension like a living thing, its walls vibrating faintly, eager for confrontation.
Iseya stepped closer. "Come with me. I can protect you. I can—"
"You can forget me," Mara said softly. "You're very good at that."
Something slid through Iseya's mind then—not a thought, but a sensation. Warmth. Smoke. The phantom ache of fingers entwined with hers.
She staggered back.
"Mara," she whispered. "What are you doing?"
"I'm letting you remember."
The Vault screamed.
Stone cracked open with a sound like snapping bone. Runes flared, flooding the chamber with blinding white light. Iseya dropped to one knee as memories—not her own, not entirely—rushed through her.
A courtyard bathed in gold.
Two girls sparring with wooden blades, laughter echoing off clean stone walls.
Aerin… before the Purge.
"No," Iseya gasped. "That's impossible."
Mara knelt before her, eyes shining with grief. "They erased you. Over and over. I watched them do it."
Fragments snapped together in Iseya's mind with horrifying clarity.
Stolen glances across council halls. Fingers brushing in secret. Kisses stolen beneath rune-lit arches. Love forged between houses sworn to destroy one another.
Enemies by birth.
Lovers by defiance.
"You were mine," Mara whispered. "And I was yours."
Elion's blade clattered to the floor.
"That's not me," she said desperately. "I would never—"
"You did," Mara said. "And then you chose them."
The truth unfolded like a wound forced open.
The Order of Silence did not merely police magic. It curated memory. It decided what the city was allowed to remember—and what it must forget.
Including love.
Elion saw it now.
The night of fire. The Vault opening for the first time. Mara standing at its heart, glowing with stolen remembrance.
And Elion, blade in hand.
"I killed you," Elion whispered.
Iseya nodded. "You were crying when you did it."
Silence swallowed the chamber.
Elion stared at her—at the way Mara's shadow lagged half a second behind her movements, at the frost creeping along the stone where her bare feet touched.
"You're dead."
"Yes."
The word was gentle.
"I bound myself to the Vault before you struck," Mara continued. "I became something the city could not forget."
A living memory.
A haunting.
Elion collapsed forward, breath shuddering. "I've been hunting you for years."
"You've been visiting me," Mara corrected softly. "The city always brings you back."
Every chase. Every near capture. Every moment of longing she couldn't explain.
The city remembered for her.
"Why show me this now?" Elion asked. "Why not let me keep forgetting?"
Mara's expression softened, and that hurt more than the truth. "Because the Vault is full."
The runes burned brighter.
"And it needs a keeper."
The realization settled like rot in Elion's chest.
The Vault did not imprison memories.
It fed on people.
"To stay with you," Elion said hoarsely, "I would have to—"
"Remember everything," Mara said. "Forever."
The alternative loomed unspoken.
To walk away free.
Empty.
Alone.
Elion reached for Mara, hands trembling. Her fingers passed through at first, then met resistance—cold, aching, unbearably familiar.
"I don't want to lose you again," Elion whispered.
Mara leaned into the touch, eyes closing. "Then don't choose silence."
The Vault opened beneath them.
Stone folded inward like flesh welcoming a blade.
Elion stepped forward.
The city exhaled.