The scent of pine and damp earth clung to Einar and Alice as they approached the cabin, the weight of the day still pressing heavily on their shoulders. The familiar smell of stew wafted through the air, pulling them closer like a comforting memory.

“Smell that?” Alice grinned, wiping the grime from her face with the back of her hand. “Mom’s making stew again.”

Einar chuckled, though the tension in his chest remained. “Guess goblin guts are worth it after all.”

Alice laughed, but as they neared the cabin, the laughter faded, replaced by the soft warmth of home. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, a quiet invitation. Alice bolted ahead, her energy untouched by the day’s events.

“We’re home!” she called, her voice echoing off the wooden walls.

From inside, their mother’s voice answered, cheerful but carrying a weight Einar couldn’t ignore. “Welcome back, my loves!”

Stepping inside, Einar was enveloped by the heat of the hearth. The smell of stew hit him full force, his stomach growling in response. But before he could take another step, he felt his mother’s eyes on him.

Lyna appeared from the kitchen, her smile warm but laced with concern as her gaze swept over him. She didn’t miss the dirt, the dried goblin blood. “Einar,” she said softly, her tone gentle but firm. “You’re a mess.”

He grimaced, looking down at himself. “Yeah... long day.”

Without a word, Lyna raised her wand, a soft glow tracing a rune in the air. “Purificare,” she whispered, and a cool breeze swept over him, cleansing the grime and filth from his skin and clothes. The magic left him feeling hollow, as if it took more than just the dirt.

“Thanks,” he muttered, forcing a smile.

Alice, never one to be left out, pouted from across the room. “What about me? I want the magic treatment, too!”

Their mother laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “Come here, Alice. Can’t have my little sorceress looking like a mudball.”

With a flick of her wand, Alice was clean, her face lighting up in delight. “Much better!” she declared triumphantly.

“Sit, both of you,” Lyna said, her voice softening. “Dinner’s ready.”

They sat at the table, the warmth of the cabin wrapping around them like a blanket. It was almost too perfect, too normal. But Alice’s excitement broke through, unstoppable as always.

“Mom, I’m so close to awakening!” Alice’s eyes sparkled, her energy infectious. “I could feel it today—like the mana was right there. It’s like my whole body is soaking it up!”

Lyna’s eyes softened, her pride clear. “You’re growing so fast, Alice. Your father would’ve been proud.”

The mention of their father silenced Alice for a moment, the weight of his absence hanging over the room. But she pushed on, undeterred. “And then two goblins showed up!”

Einar watched his mother’s hands still, her smile faltering. “Goblins? Near the lake?”

“They weren’t strong,” Einar said quickly, trying to ease her worry. “We handled them.”

Lyna’s brow furrowed, the tension settling into her face. “It’s still dangerous out there. I don’t want either of you hurt.”

Alice, oblivious to the unease, pressed on. “Mom, you should’ve seen Einar! He was amazing!” She ignored the glare Einar shot her, too wrapped up in her excitement. “He moved so fast! One strike, and the goblin was down. It was like he’s been doing it forever!”

Lyna’s gaze shifted to Einar, her eyes narrowing slightly in surprise. “Really?” she asked quietly.

Einar shrugged, looking away. “It wasn’t a big deal. Just... instinct.”

But Lyna wasn’t satisfied. Her eyes held a glimmer of something—recognition, or maybe suspicion. “Your father used moves like that. But you’ve never trained in sword techniques.”

The air grew thick with unspoken tension. Einar could feel her unasked questions swirling in the space between them. How could he explain it? That his body had moved like it wasn’t his own, guided by memories from a life he didn’t live?

“I don’t know,” he muttered, not meeting her eyes. “It just... happened.”

The silence that followed felt heavier than before, but Alice, ever the optimist, broke it with her usual enthusiasm. “I’m telling you, Mom—he was incredible! It’s like he’s been doing it forever.”

Lyna forced a smile, but the concern was still there, lingering just beneath the surface. She turned back to the stew, stirring it slowly.

Sensing the growing tension, Einar changed the subject. “I’ll head over to Bron’s tomorrow. He’ll need more wood.”

The shift in conversation worked. Lyna’s face softened at the mention of something familiar, something grounded in the everyday.

“You’ve become a fine young man, Einar,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Your father would’ve been proud of you.”

Her words tightened something in his chest. Pride. He didn’t know if he deserved it.

Walking over, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. “Don’t cry, Mom. I’m here. I’ll always be here for you and Alice.”

She sniffed, wiping her eyes with a shaky laugh. “I know, Einar. I know.”

Alice, never one to miss out, crossed her arms with a pout. “Hey! What about me? No hug for your amazing little sister?”

Einar rolled his eyes, laughing as he pulled her into a quick hug. “Alright, come here, you little vixen.”

Alice squealed in protest as he ruffled her hair. “Einar! Stop!”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Their mother’s laughter filled the room, wrapping them all in a warmth that, for a moment, made everything feel right. Like the outside world didn’t exist. For now, it was just them. And that was enough.

** **

Later that night, after dinner, the hearth’s fire had burned down to embers, casting a soft glow over the cabin. The warmth of the room did nothing to settle Einar’s mind. The weight of the day—his dreams, the fight, the sword—pressed down on him, suffocating. He stood up, pushing away from the table.

“Where are you going?” his mother asked, her voice soft but lined with concern.

“Just for a walk,” he said, forcing a smile that felt wrong on his face. He could see the worry in her eyes, but the cabin felt too small, too stifling.

She watched him closely, her fingers grazing the crystal pendant she always wore, her gaze lingering longer than usual. “Don’t stay out too long,” she said, though her tone was hesitant, almost as if she wanted to say more but couldn’t.

“I won’t.”

Einar stepped outside, the cold night air biting at his skin like a silent rebuke. The door creaked shut behind him, louder than it should’ve been.

The forest loomed ahead, the shadows deeper under the full moon’s light. He glanced back, catching a glimpse of his mother’s silhouette through the window, her hand still gripping that strange pendant.

For the first time in a long while, Einar felt unsure of what waited for him in the dark.

** **

The night was deceptively calm, a thick silence hanging in the air, like the world held its breath. The moon’s pale light bathed everything in a ghostly glow, casting long shadows on the narrow path ahead of Einar.

Every step felt heavier, the crunch of dirt beneath his boots echoing in the stillness. His heart pounded louder than the sound, though he didn’t understand why. Something was pulling him deeper into the night, toward a truth he wasn’t ready to face.

The moon reflected off the landscape, its light almost too bright, making the trees and fields around him look otherworldly. Einar felt a shiver crawl up his spine, and before he knew it, the village around him faded, replaced by something else—another place, another time.

The crackling of a campfire broke the stillness. The scent of burning wood mixed with the cool night air. He blinked, confusion flooding him. He was somewhere else now, not on the village path but in a camp—an unfamiliar land.

He looked down at his hands, and the sensation of warmth from the fire was too real. The ground beneath him, the night air brushing against his skin—it wasn’t a dream.

By the fire sat a woman, her golden hair catching the moonlight like strands of pure light. Celestia. Her name whispered through his mind before he could stop it. She hummed softly, a melody that wrapped around him, pulling him in. It was a song he had never heard before, yet the words… he understood them.

“Rethos mor’thala vu naruun… Eshkar velonil marathaan… Thaelor va’shara deshaer…”

Each note twisted something deep inside him, tugging at his heart like a forgotten memory. He took a step toward her, his body moving without his command. Every sensation was vivid—the warmth of the fire, the softness of the ground under his boots. This wasn’t like the dreams. This was real.

Celestia turned, her crystal blue eyes meeting his, and her lips curved into a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Did you like the song, my love?” she asked, her voice soft, but edged with something heavier—weariness, sorrow.

Einar—no, the body he was inside—moved closer. “It feels like home,” he heard himself say, though the words felt strange coming from his lips. “Not this battle. Not this place. But with you... it’s home.”

Her smile faltered, and for a moment, her strength wavered. She looked back to the fire, the light dancing in her eyes. “Home is so far away now,” she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of it all. “I’m tired of the blood, the war. I want it to end, Einar.”

His chest tightened, the emotion in her voice like a blade to his heart. He lowered himself beside her, feeling the warmth of her presence next to him. As soon as he sat, she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, and for a fleeting moment, the world around them vanished.

“When will it end?” she asked, her voice barely audible. “When will we be free?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, his voice strained, as if the answer was choking him. “But I swear to you, I’ll protect you. Whatever it takes.”

Celestia lifted her head slightly, her gaze locking onto his with an intensity that made his heart ache. “And I’ll protect you, too,” she whispered fiercely. “Even if it means giving everything.”

The air between them thickened, heavy with promises they didn’t dare speak aloud. The fire crackled, but all Einar could hear was the soft, steady rhythm of her breathing beside him. She was everything—more than a companion. She was a part of him, something he couldn’t live without.

“I love you,” she said, her voice so quiet it was almost lost in the night.

The words sank into him, filling the empty spaces in his soul. He felt a smile break across his face, a warmth blooming in his chest that fought against the cold reality of the war. “I love you too,” he said, the words coming so naturally, so easily.

But the moment didn’t last. The memory faded like smoke, dissolving into the night air until he was back, standing under the cold moonlit sky, alone once more. The warmth of the fire, the feeling of her head resting on his shoulder—all of it was gone. What lingered was the aching emptiness in his chest, the hole that had been torn open.

Einar’s steps faltered as he neared the old tree, the one where his father lay buried. The grave stood silent and unmoving, but his thoughts were miles away, back in the camp, back with Celestia. Her voice echoed in his mind, her warmth still imprinted on his skin.

“Celestia...” he whispered, the name slipping from his lips, almost as if speaking it would bring her to him. His chest tightened again, and without warning, a tear slid down his cheek.

He wiped it away quickly, angry with himself for the weakness, but another tear followed, then another. The emotions, the confusion, the love—it all hit him at once. He couldn’t hold it back anymore.

Why does she feel so real? Why can I feel her so deeply? Who is she to me?

Einar stared at his father’s grave, his mind swirling with questions that had no answers. He clenched his fists, the weight of it all crashing down on him. The dreams, the memories—none of it made sense. But the feelings... they were real. They were as real as the air he breathed.

He let out a ragged breath, his voice barely a whisper. “Why do I feel this way?” His voice cracked, carrying the weight of his sorrow into the night.

** **

In the doorway of their cabin, Lyna stood quietly, clutching the crystal pendant around her neck. Her gaze locked onto Einar, watching him under the moonlight as he stood, his shoulders hunched, hand pressed to his chest. Even from this distance, she could feel his pain, see the silent battle raging inside him.

A mother knows these things. She knew this moment was coming.

He’s suffering, she thought, guilt weighing her heart down. And it’s because of me.

For years, she had feared this day—the day when Einar would begin to remember. The day when the dreams would start to unravel the fragile peace she had built for him. The past was a cruel thing, and keeping it hidden had been her only way of protecting him.

To protect him from himself.

She had promised Celestia that she would shield him from the truth of who he truly was. But now, watching him break beneath the weight of his confusion, that promise felt more like a curse. Every tear, every restless night, it all stemmed from what she had kept from him.

Should I tell him? Lyna wondered, fingers tightening around the pendant. Should I let him know who he really is?

The fear of what the truth might do to him gnawed at her. What if it shattered him? What if knowing about Celestia, about his past, only pushed him further away?

Her heart ached with indecision. Then, as if in answer to her silent plea, the pendant began to glow—a soft, pulsing light. Lyna gasped, her breath catching in her throat.

The pendant had been silent for years. Given to her by Celestia, it had stopped working long ago. Yet now, in this moment of doubt, it flickered back to life.

Is this a sign?

Tears welled in her eyes as the warmth from the crystal spread through her chest. She clutched the pendant tightly, her voice trembling. “Celestia... if you’re out there, I need your guidance. What do I do? Do I tell him the truth? Or keep him in the dark like you asked?”

The light flickered once more, then dimmed. Silence returned. Lyna stared at Einar, bathed in moonlight, fragile yet strong. And in that moment, she knew what she had to do.

He deserves to know.

A tear rolled down her cheek as she whispered, “He’s ready.”

As the night deepened, Lyna made her choice. Whatever storm the truth would bring, it was time. Nothing would ever be the same.