For the first time, a flicker of interest lit his gaze, though his face remained emotionless. “And these dreams… have they been happening often?”

Liora nodded slowly, her brow creasing. “More and more frequently. I wake up feeling as if I’ve lost something, something that vanishes the moment I open my eyes.” Her voice grew soft, troubled. “I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being shown pieces of a puzzle I can’t quite see… like a warning.”

Aric remained silent, his fingers steepled as he listened, a vague chill prickling through him. Warnings, signs, dreams filled with shadows—too close to the forces and secrets that had been surrounding him.

“Liora,” he said quietly, reaching out to cover her hand with his, the motion practiced, almost automatic. “What else do you remember? Anything specific?”

She shook her head, frustration etched into her features. "That’s the thing, Aric. They don’t make any sense. They’re fragments—moments of places I’ve never seen. One moment, I’m in the mountains, feeling the cold bite of the wind against my skin; the next, I’m somewhere so dark and suffocating that I can barely breathe. And the faces…" Her voice trembled. "There are faces I feel I should know, but they’re strangers to me, like shadows fading before I can truly see them."

Her hand unconsciously touched her temple as if the visions ached. "I was told I was born blind, that I’ve never known what it is to see. Yet, in these dreams, I can see everything vividly, as though I’ve never lost my sight at all." She paused, letting the words hang heavy in the air. "How can that be, Aric? How can someone who has never seen the world now see it so clearly in dreams?"

Her fingers tightened slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. "And it’s not like ordinary dreams. It feels like... a nightmare that lingers even after waking. I wake up feeling as if a part of me was there, living these moments I can't possibly remember."

He held her gaze, his face calm, his hand resting on hers. “Dreams can be strange things,” he replied, his tone gentle but hollow. “Sometimes they mean nothing, merely echoes of our fears and thoughts.”

Liora’s expression softened, though doubt lingered. “Maybe,” she murmured, though her tone held uncertainty. She tilted her head, her blind eyes seeming to focus on him, as if sensing something beneath his calm facade. “But… there’s something about them that feels as if they’re meant for someone else, like I’m seeing through another’s eyes.”

Silence settled between them, her words hanging heavily in the warm solarium. He could feel her searching for something in him, perhaps sensing the vacancy that now occupied his gaze. Her hand tightened on his, concern deepening in her face.

“Aric,” she whispered, her voice soft, almost pleading, “are you… are you all right?”

For a moment, he considered letting the mask slip, the weight of her worry pressing on him. But instead, he managed a faint, distant smile, enough to reassure.

“I’m fine, Liora,” he replied, his voice calm but devoid of warmth. “You know me… always drifting somewhere far away.”

As he rose to leave, he felt her gaze linger, as if she could see the faint cracks beneath his stoic facade, cracks he wasn’t sure he knew how to mend.

Liora’s brow creased, her hand reaching out to brush his arm, as if she could anchor him with the lightest touch. "You know… you were never good at hiding from me. Even as children, whenever you were hurt, I’d always know. You’d try to act strong, put on that little mask of yours." She gave a soft, sad smile. "But I always saw through it. And this… this feels different, like there’s a piece of you that’s gone somewhere I can’t follow."

Aric felt the faintest tremor in her fingers, the warmth of her hand in stark contrast to the cold he’d come to feel inside. "Liora, I’m fine," he repeated, his tone an echo, almost rehearsed, hollow.

A flicker of pain crossed her face, and she seemed to struggle for words. "Aric… I’m not saying this because I doubt you, or because I think you’re weak. I just… I miss the way things used to be." She hesitated, looking away, her fingers still on his arm as if to prevent him from slipping away. "I miss you."

The weight of her words lingered between them, like a small plea she didn’t dare make outright. She withdrew her hand and pressed it to her heart, as if steadying herself. "In my dreams, I see you, too. But… it’s like you’re someone else. You’re in pain, Aric, in ways I can’t understand. You’re fighting something alone, and I’m… helpless. And every time I wake up, it hurts."

Her words stirred something buried deep within him, but the emotion barely registered. He kept his face still, his voice gentle, as if speaking from a distance. "Liora… you shouldn’t worry so much. Dreams are just dreams. I’m still here, the same as ever."

She shook her head, her face reflecting a mixture of frustration and sadness. "But you’re not, Aric. You’re here, but… it’s like I can’t reach you. Like… you’re hiding behind a veil that won’t lift, no matter how hard I try to see through it." Her voice cracked, and she looked down, her vulnerability laid bare. "I’ve lost so much already. I can’t lose you, too."

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Her words struck a chord he hadn’t expected, and he hesitated, as if a part of him wanted to reach out, to say something real. But instead, he maintained his distance, his voice flat and steady. "You’ll never lose me, Liora."

A weak smile touched her lips, though her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "I’ll hold you to that, then. Promise me."

He nodded, a brief, almost imperceptible movement, his voice barely above a whisper. "I promise."

There was a fragile silence between them, each moment stretching longer as he felt the weight of her love, her unwavering belief in him. It was a warmth he could no longer feel, a bond that once anchored him but now seemed to pull him in directions he couldn’t follow.

Before he could think better of it, Liora reached out once more, taking his hand in both of hers. "No matter what you’re going through, you’ll always have me, Aric. If you ever need to talk, or just… be here, I’m here for you." She squeezed his hand gently, her touch steady, her voice filled with a depth of care he’d almost forgotten existed. "You don’t have to face it all alone."

Aric looked down at their intertwined hands, the warmth seeping through like a reminder of a life he was drifting away from. He managed a faint smile, a practiced expression, and nodded. "Thank you, Liora. You’ve always been… stronger than anyone I know."

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away, forcing a small, shaky smile. "I learned from the best." She let out a soft laugh, one that quivered with unsaid words, the silent fears she kept hidden, just as he did.

Aric looked into Liora’s eyes, sensing her longing, the vulnerability beneath her strength, and the fears she masked behind those quiet smiles. He felt her hand still holding his, her grip tightening as if she feared he would vanish. The moment hung heavy between them, an unspoken bond, something real—until a shadow crossed the threshold.

Cedric Oswin entered, his footsteps eerily silent, his face unreadable as he observed his children. Aric and Liora both started, their surprise quickly concealed. It was rare for their father to catch them unawares. Cedric’s presence filled the room with a quiet tension, a solemnity that seemed to darken the air. He glanced between them, and in his gaze was a weight they had not seen before—an unsettling mixture of regret and resolve.

“Father,” Aric said, his voice steady, though there was a cautious edge to it.

Cedric nodded in greeting, but his gaze lingered on them both, solemn, almost reluctant. “I heard your conversation,” he said, voice low, almost tender. “And I realize… it’s time you both knew the truth. Though this was never how I intended to tell you.” He paused, glancing away, the fleeting hesitation unusual in him. “But circumstances have forced my hand. I fear we no longer have the luxury of waiting.”

Liora frowned, taken aback by his words. “What do you mean, Father?” she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Cedric looked away for a moment, his shoulders tense, as if bracing himself for a truth long buried. “It concerns your mother,” he said quietly, his voice laced with a sorrow that both of them felt.

Aric remained silent, his eyes narrowing subtly as he kept his expression controlled, masking the certainty that had already settled within him. He’d long known the true cause of his mother’s death, piecing it together from the illusions he endured during the Trial’s first gate. He understood that his father harbored secrets—secrets intertwined with the trauma of that day, secrets he’d never reveal willingly. But he held his gaze steady, offering no hint of what he knew.

“She… did not pass peacefully, as I’ve told you, Liora,” Cedric began, his gaze now fixed on her. “And Aric… you were there, that day. You saw it happen, though I did everything I could to shield you from it afterward. To bury it.” His voice cracked slightly, the admission visibly difficult for him. “Your mother was killed, and I sealed away the memories, hoping to protect you both from the truth… and from the consequences that memory carried.”

Aric remained outwardly calm, but his fists clenched subtly at his sides. A small part of him had always sensed that his father’s actions hadn’t been entirely selfless. The memory block, the void in his past—it wasn’t for Aric’s well-being alone. There was something his father had feared, something he had buried along with the memories.

Liora gasped, her face pale. “Killed? But… why?” she whispered, her voice cracking as she searched Cedric’s face for answers.

Cedric’s gaze softened, a haunted look darkening his face. “Your mother… she was bound to the Oswin legacy in ways neither of you could have grasped as children. She was not only a guardian of our family’s secrets but the bearer of gifts and knowledge that surpassed any within our line for generations,” he said, voice thick with sorrow. “The children she bore—both of you—held abilities far beyond any the Oswins had ever seen. There were… powers that saw this, forces that understood her worth and the danger of what she carried. They wanted her secrets, wanted to control her gifts. But when they couldn’t break her…” His voice grew hoarse, breaking with grief. “They destroyed her.”

Aric’s expression remained impassive, but his eyes sharpened, his jaw tightening as he kept his composure. “And you blocked my memories,” he said, the words laced with a cold understanding. “So I wouldn’t remember. So I wouldn’t be haunted by the truth.”

Cedric nodded, his face pained. “Yes… but it was also for another reason, Aric. You suffered so deeply that day, that your mind began rejecting even the idea of a sword. The trauma was so profound that it left you unable to even hold a blade without being overwhelmed. I feared for your stability, so I buried that memory, believing that it might allow you a semblance of peace.”

Aric’s eyes flickered, though his expression remained carefully neutral he already knew all this. Liora, meanwhile, seemed shattered, her hand clinging to his arm as she processed the revelation. “All these years,” she murmured, her voice faint. “You let us believe she’d gone peacefully, that she’d just… left.”

Cedric’s eyes darkened. “It was a lie I thought I’d take to my grave. But… there’s more. Liora, Aric, you both deserve to know the truth about yourselves, the inheritance you carry. The fate you share.”

Liora looked at him with a mixture of dread and curiosity. “What… what more could there be?” she whispered, still reeling from the previous revelation.

Cedric took a deep breath, his gaze turning to Liora with a sadness that seemed to cut through him. “Liora… you were not born blind.”

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