Leaving the fortified stronghold of Drum-Kahzad behind them, Mihai, Elanor, Cian, Kronmud, and Raven moved steadily into the open wilderness. The path wound downward from the mountains, each step taking them further from the dwarven city that had welcomed them as heroes and forging a new journey toward the Green Plains, where the forces of darkness loomed on the horizon.

The mountain winds grew softer as they descended, and the warm rays of the sun began to cut through the chill, casting a gentler light over the rough terrain. But in Mihai’s mind, shadows lingered. He walked with a certain detachment, glancing around him at the rolling hills, the stretch of forest on the horizon, and even his companions—each familiar, yet somehow strange.

Elanor walked beside him, her pace slow and measured, as if she were waiting for something unspoken to fall into place. She often glanced at him, her eyes filled with patience and quiet hope, though she said nothing, allowing him space to process.

After a while, Mihai broke the silence. “It’s strange,” he murmured, his gaze distant. “I remember the battle, the weight of the sword, and the feel of the mountain beneath me… But there’s so much I don’t remember—things that feel like they should be here.” He gestured to his heart.

Elanor’s face softened, and she offered him a faint smile. “Memories can be fragile things, Mihai. But sometimes, it’s the feelings behind them that linger.” She touched his arm gently, a gesture so natural it seemed they’d done it a hundred times before. “Maybe it’s those feelings that matter most.”

Her words resonated with him, stirring something deep within—a warmth, a familiarity. He looked at her, his brow creased, as if struggling to remember a dream slipping away in the morning light. He wanted to tell her something, to reach out and hold onto whatever thread connected them, but the words felt distant.

Kronmud, sensing the quiet tension, cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “We should make camp soon. Bein’ in the open’s no good, an’ there’s a nice grove just down the hill.” He gestured ahead, leading the group toward a patch of trees nestled between gentle slopes.

They set up camp, the firelight casting warm glows over their faces as dusk settled around them. Kronmud and Cian tended to their weapons, while Raven lay beside Mihai, his golden eyes following him as if sensing his inner turmoil.

As the stars emerged above, Elanor found herself beside Mihai once again. The night was peaceful, the kind of quiet that invited honesty, and Mihai felt an urge to speak, even if he didn’t know where to begin.

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“Elanor…” he started, his voice soft. “I know I don’t remember everything. But I feel… drawn to you. Like there’s a part of me that knows you better than I know myself.”

She smiled, a faint blush warming her cheeks. “You once told me that I made you feel like you belonged,” she whispered, her hand reaching out to rest over his. “That, no matter how strange this world seemed, you could find your place here with me.”

Mihai’s heart ached with a bittersweet intensity. It felt right, and yet it was as though he were hearing it for the first time. He looked into her eyes, feeling a warmth spread through him. Slowly, hesitantly, he leaned closer, and she met him halfway. Their lips brushed, a quiet, tender kiss that felt both familiar and new.

For a moment, the pieces of his memory seemed to click into place, the fog lifting ever so slightly. He could see glimpses—shared laughs, whispered words, and the fierce loyalty they had for each other. He pulled back, looking at her with a wonder that bordered on reverence.

“I… I love you,” he whispered, the words feeling both inevitable and overwhelming.

Tears glistened in Elanor’s eyes as she smiled, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I love you, Mihai. Always.”

That night, Mihai drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep, his heart filled with the certainty of his feelings for Elanor. But as the early hours of the morning crept in, a soft, otherworldly glow filled his dreams, and he found himself standing in a vast, ethereal field. Wisps of light floated around him, and the air was thick with a divine presence that filled him with both peace and awe.

Before him stood a figure, resplendent and radiant—the unmistakable form of Yahweh. His voice was deep, reverberating through Mihai’s very being.

“You have shown bravery, resilience, and a heart worthy of this world’s hope, Mihai,” Yahweh intoned, his eyes piercing yet filled with kindness. “You have endured trials that would break lesser souls, and yet you remain steadfast.”

Mihai bowed his head, humbled. “I’ve tried to be worthy of the path you’ve set before me.”

Yahweh’s gaze softened. “You have, and more. Therefore, I offer you a gift—one that you may use only once.” He extended a hand, and in his palm appeared a glowing orb, pulsing with warm light. “This light can restore what you have lost, heal what has been wounded. You may call upon it to restore the memories you have forgotten.”

Mihai’s heart leapt with hope. He knew, instinctively, that this gift could mend the fractures in his mind, bringing him back to himself. Without hesitation, he reached out and took the orb, feeling its warmth seep into him, filling every corner of his soul.

As the light enveloped him, the fragments of his past came rushing back—moments of laughter with Cian, battles fought side by side with Kronmud, and, above all, the depth of his love for Elanor. The memories filled him with a profound sense of purpose and belonging, solidifying his resolve for the journey still ahead.

When he awoke, the early light was filtering through the trees, casting a gentle glow over their camp. Elanor sat nearby, tending the fire. As he looked at her, memories and feelings mingling, he felt whole again.

“Elanor,” he called softly. She looked up, and he smiled, his eyes filled with all the love he had struggled to find. “Thank you for waiting.”

Her smile was radiant, a mirror to his own. She moved to his side, their hands intertwining as they shared a quiet moment of understanding.