Ymir stirred before the dawn.

  The fire had gone to embers, and the stars hung heavy above, cold and distant in the black velvet sky. A light mist curled across the ground, clinging to boots, blades, and breath. The world seemed suspended in silence.

  Aurora was already awake, her back resting against the half-fallen stone of the griffin shrine. She held Ymir’s hand, watching his chest’s gentle rise and fall like a sacred rhythm.

  Then his fingers twitched. His brow furrowed, and he opened his eyes. At first, they were glassy, clouded like moonlight over water. But as they focused, the green returned, flaring like leaves in mid-spring.

  “Aurora…?”

  His voice was hoarse, but whole. Aurora’s eyes filled instantly.

  “Yes. I’m here.”

  She leaned in, pressing her forehead to his. Her hands cupped his cheeks, her thumb brushing away the dirt and the shimmer of violet mist that still clung faintly to his skin.

  Ymir blinked, groaned. “Everything’s… loud.”

  Lili stirred across the fire, sitting up mid-snore.

  “He speaks! You owe me five coins, Kegan. I said he’d talk before sunrise.”

  Already half-awake and brooding near the fire’s edge, Kegan shot her a look.

  “You said he’d sing a battle hymn.”

  “Details,” Lili muttered, curling her moss blanket tighter.

  Ymir’s gaze wandered. His fingers brushed the dirt, the edge of the fire ring, the rough fabric of Aurora’s cloak.

  “Where am I?”

  “You're here with us,” Aurora whispered. “We are heading to see the King. Home.”

  He nodded slowly, but she noticed the tremor behind his eyes. Memory had not returned all at once. He had come through the Rift as a man pulled from a dream, and the nightmare still whispered just out of reach.

  Alora sat nearby, cross-legged. She said nothing, but her gaze never left Ymir, cautious. She watched the faint flickers of Rift magic that lingered around him, pulses of violet that ran through his chest and throat like threads of foreign light.

  It worried her. They hadn’t pressed him for information yet. Instead, the camp fell quiet again, and Aurora helped Ymir eat slowly from a bowl of root stew and herbs that Lili had prepared. The sun crept over the hills, a cold light, pale and slow. The mist began to recede.

  As they packed, Kegan unfurled the old map Nimuel had enchanted. A glowing blue dot pulsed faintly at the center, their position. Far to the northeast, the capital shimmered like a distant constellation.

  Alora looked over his shoulder. “Three weeks if the roads are clear.”

  “They won’t be,” Kegan said grimly.

  Lili pulled her boots on with a sigh. “So, should we all pretend we didn’t hear the part where Mol’therak said he’d build a kingdom out of the bones of our future?”

  “Nirach’Thal,” Alora murmured. “The Kingdom of the Hollow Flame.”

  The name made the wind shift. Even Ymir, still weakened, looked up at the sound of it.

  Aurora finally stood. “Then we stop it. We make sure he never takes that first step.”

  Kegan pointed to a narrow pass leading through a ravine. “ If we take the main road, it will take longer, but it would be the safest route. However, if we go west first. Through the Witch Pine Ashen Reach. It’ll cut two weeks off the route, but…”

  He trailed off.

  “But what?” Alora asked.

  Kegan hesitated. “That part of the land hasn’t recovered since the last Rift flare. Nothing’s lived there in years.”

  Ymir’s voice was low. “That’s where I first heard his voice.”

  Everyone turned. He sat straighter now, his face pale but clearer.

  “In the Ashen Reach. When I was taken. That’s where… Mol’therak found me.”

  Aurora’s hand slipped into his. “You don’t have to.”

  “I remember now,” Ymir said, quiet but firm. “He didn’t just pull me through. I walked through shadow for I’m not sure how long. Everything seemed the same, but it wasnt. I walked for countless hours in the direction I thought was back to the Academy. Everything was blurry, like walking through a thick fog. He spoke to me. Told me that mercy was weakness. That hope was a shackle. That if I let go of everything… I could be free.”

  Alora tensed. “And did you?”

  Ymir looked away. “I tried.”

  They watched him as he spoke, his eyes focused on something that wasnt there. Ymir rubbed his face with his hands, trying to will the memories to focus.

  “Then we start there,” Kegan said, voice calm. “Through the Ashen Reach. Past what remains of the Seer’s Path. Across the Wildmoor Flats. Then north to the capital.”

  Lili groaned dramatically. “No chance of another nice seaside detour, huh?”

  Alora smiled faintly. “Only if you enjoy cliffs with screaming wind and water that whispers your name.”

  “Romantic,” Lili muttered. “I’ll bring a picnic.”

  They broke camp an hour later.

  Ymir leaned against Aurora as they walked, but with each step, he seemed more solid. Still, Alora kept watching the Rift’s fingerprints on him. They had time, but not much.

  The Ashen Reach greeted them by midday. What had once been a forest was now a maze of black trunks glazed with something like frost. The air smelled faintly of copper and rain. Every sound came back twice, like a whisper chasing its own echo.

  Lili glanced upward. “I hate this place.”

  “You hate every place,” Kegan said, rolling his eyes.

  “Yeah, but this one hates me back.”

  As they passed between the trees, strange lights moved at the edge of vision, not bright enough to name, not dark enough to ignore. When Aurora looked closer, she saw the shapes of hands reaching from the mist, dissolving before they touched.

  Ymir slowed. “They’re echoes,” he murmured. “Fragments of what the Rift took. They are bleeding through now that Mol’thrak is back.”

  “The dead?” Alora asked.

  “No. The almost-dead. The pieces left behind when something gets pulled through.”

  Aurora tightened her grip on her staff. The shard at its head pulsed, golden threads weaving outward in a faint halo, pushing the shadows back. The air hissed, retreating like breath drawn through teeth.

  They picked up the pace. Keeping a watchful eye on Ymir, in case he tired easily.

  By the time they left the Witch Pine Ashen Reach, the light had changed. The sky glowed an amber gray, as though the sun itself were holding its breath.

  They followed the broken trail through the forest thinning until the air tasted of salt and iron again. The road curved between low ridges, and for the first time in days, sunlight touched their faces.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Lili stretched her arms above her head, letting out a long sigh. “Finally. Actual light that doesn’t look like it wants to eat my soul.”

  Alora smirked faintly. “Give it time.”

  Kegan adjusted the strap on his shoulder. “If light starts eating souls, I’m done. I’ve fought shadows, wraiths, half a god, but if daylight turns on us, I’m retiring.”

  “Retiring to where?” Lili asked. “The afterlife?”

  “I hear it’s peaceful,” he said dryly.

  Lili grinned. “Not with your reputation. The dead probably have posters up that say Do Not Resurrect.”

  Alora chuckled under her breath, the sound almost musical. “She’s not wrong.”

  Aurora glanced back from the head of the group, her tone teasing. “Be nice to him. He might be the only one who knows how to kill what’s coming.”

  Kegan shot her a sidelong look. “That’s not comforting, Healer.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be,” she said, smiling faintly.

  Lili snorted. “Oh, that’s new. Aurora is making jokes. What’s next, you teaching Ymir sarcasm?”

  Aurora glanced at Ymir walking quietly beside her, lost in thought. “That might take a few years.”

  “I can hear you,” Ymir said evenly, though his tone held no offense, just confusion. “I’m not sure what sarcasm is, but it sounds inefficient.”

  Lili gasped dramatically. “Inefficient?!” She turned to Alora. “You hear that? The man calls my art form inefficient!”

  Alora kept walking, expression calm. “She’s wounded now. It might be terminal.”

  Aurora laughed, a real, unguarded laugh, and even Kegan’s mouth twitched toward a smile.

  But Ymir only frowned, his gaze unfocused again, as if the sound itself hurt. “Why do you laugh when there’s nothing funny?”

  The laughter died quickly. Aurora looked at him, her smile fading into softness. “Because sometimes we need to. Otherwise, the silence wins. You taught me that.”

  He nodded slowly, not understanding, and turned away.

  Lili, suddenly awkward, rubbed the back of her neck. “I was just trying to help him feel less like a ghost, you know?”

  “I know,” Aurora said quietly. She handed her pack to Kegan and followed Ymir up the road.

  He was walking ahead now, shoulders slightly hunched, the faint shimmer of Riftlight trailing behind him like a halo that didn’t belong.

  “Ymir,” she called gently.

  He didn’t stop until she reached him. When she touched his arm, he turned, eyes dim but clearer than before.

  “You’re not broken,” she said softly. “You’re just… still finding your way back. It will take some time to return to what you once were.”

  He studied her, as if testing the truth of her words. “And if I don’t find it?”

  “Then I’ll walk beside you until you do. You won't walk in shadow forever.”

  For a moment, the world around them fell silent again, no wind, no whispers, just the rhythm of their steps on the cracked earth.

  Behind them, Lili murmured to Alora, “You think they’ll kiss before the next near-death event?”

  Kegan didn’t look back. “Knowing our luck, the near-death event is the kiss.”

  Lili cackled, and the tension cracked just a little wider, enough for the road ahead to feel less impossible.

  They walked until the forest thinned into hills of dark grass and pale stone. The sun was sinking, bleeding amber light across the ravines.

  Lili broke the quiet again, tossing a pebble at Kegan’s boots. “You know, for a legendary soul hunter, you walk like an old man.”

  Kegan didn’t slow. “You try carrying four hundred years of bad decisions on your spine.”

  Alora smirked. “He’s not exaggerating.”

  Lili gasped. “You’ve been keeping count?”

  Kegan gave a small grunt, something almost like laughter. “It’s all written down somewhere. The gods love their ledgers.”

  “They’d need a bigger book for you,” Alora said dryly.

  Aurora glanced over her shoulder, smiling faintly. “Careful. He might actually enjoy this.”

  Kegan raised a brow. “Enjoy what?”

  “Being teased. It means you’re not terrifying anymore.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Lili said. “I still have nightmares about the way he sharpens those blades.”

  “That’s just the sound of experience,” Kegan replied.

  “Sounds like loneliness,” Alora murmured, soft enough that only he heard.

  Kegan’s gaze flickered toward her, but he said nothing.

  Lili, oblivious, pointed to the road ahead. “If the gods love ledgers, maybe they can write us an easier path. Maybe a nice inn with warm bread, a bath, and no existential dread.”

  Aurora laughed under her breath. “You ask for miracles, not mercies.”

  “Miracles are more fun,” Lili said. “Mercy always comes with a lesson.”

  “Spoken like someone who’s never needed saving,” Alora said.

  Lili flashed a grin. “Oh, I’ve needed saving plenty. I just usually do it myself.”

  Aurora chuckled. “You sound like Ymir used to.”

  Ymir blinked, startled by the sound of his name. “Used to?”

  She turned toward him, walking backward a few steps. “Before the Rift. You were stubborn, reckless, impossible to reason with.”

  He frowned. “That sounds inefficient, too.”

  Lili clutched her heart theatrically. “There it is again! He wounds me!”

  Aurora giggled; even Alora smiled, shaking her head in amusement.

  But Ymir didn’t. His brow creased as he looked between them, the rhythm of their laughter alien to him. “Why do you… say things that aren’t true, and then laugh?”

  “It’s jest,” Lili said softly. “Play.”

  “Play?”

  Kegan slowed his stride, falling in beside him. “It’s how we keep the dark small. You should try it.”

  “I don’t remember how,” Ymir said quietly. “Or if I ever knew.”

  The mood faltered. Lili opened her mouth, then closed it again, her expression awkward but kind. “Well… if you ever want lessons, I charge reasonable rates. First joke’s free.”

  Ymir tried to smile but didn’t quite manage it. “Thank you.” He walked ahead, the glow beneath his skin dimming as he moved into shadow.

  Aurora sighed and looked at Lili. “Watch the trail.”

  “Always do. If he keeps stomping off like a child, we should put a leash around him.” Lili said softly.

  Kegan laughed loudly, doubling over, holding his sides. Lili joined him in laughter as Alora chuckled, shaking her head.

  “Could you imagine?! Walking into the city with Ymir on a leash like some pet. Don't worry, he’s almost tamed. We found him in the wild. Pretty sure he doesn't have fleas.”

  The three laughed harder, their sounds echoing around them, carrying the noise towards Ymir and Aurora.

  Aurora caught up to him on the ridge. He didn’t turn when she reached him, only said, “They make it look easy. The living.”

  “They’ve had practice,” she answered.

  He nodded. “Maybe I will too.”

  “You will,” she said, her hand brushing his sleeve. “One step at a time.”

  There was something in his expression, not envy exactly. Something quieter. A distance he couldn’t seem to cross.

  “I feel like I used to laugh like that,” he said at last.

  Aurora’s heart tightened, but she kept her voice gentle. “You did. Constantly. I don’t remember a day you didn’t have a smile ready. Or some terrible joke.”

  A faint breath of air escaped him, almost a laugh, but not quite.

  She hesitated before continuing. “It’s alright, you know. We knew you would come back… different. Missing pieces. We just have to find them again. I know we will.”

  He was quiet for several steps.

  “It won’t be the same,” he said finally. “I won’t ever be the same.”

  The wind picked up, tugging at his cloak.

  “There’s this weight here.” He pressed a hand flat against his chest. “It doesn’t move. It doesn’t ease. I wake, and it’s there. I breathe, and it’s there. I don’t know if I can see my way out of whatever this is.”

  Aurora reached for him without thinking. Her fingers slipped between his, warm and steady.

  “You don’t have to carry it alone,” she said softly. “We can help. I can help. If it’s dark, then let me be the light that—”

  He pulled his hand away, suddenly.

  “I don’t need someone to be my light.”

  The words landed sharper than he intended, and he winced, but did not take them back.

  “I don’t want anyone carrying this for me,” he continued, voice tightening. “I was…” He exhaled, frustrated. “I don’t even know what I was. The memories feel wrong. Twisted. Like I’m trying to look through fog that never lifts. I walked in the Void, Aurora. I remember that much. I remember… not being sure if I was alive.”

  He looked at his hands as if they didn’t quite belong to him.

  “Am I living? Am I something else? And everyone keeps telling me it’s fine. That I’ll settle. That I’ll remember. What if I don’t?”

  His voice cracked on the last word, and he hated that it did.

  “I don’t need to be handled like I’m fragile,” he said more quietly. “I don’t need to be saved.”

  He turned away from her then, jaw tight.

  Aurora stood frozen for a moment. The sting wasn’t just in his tone; it was in the distance. He had never turned away from her like that. Not before.

  Doubt slipped in where certainty had lived.

  She had known he would be different. She had told herself she was prepared. But somewhere inside, she had believed, stubbornly, that her presence would anchor him. That if she stayed close enough, he would remember who he had been.

  Maybe she had believed she would be enough. The wind shifted. Rain threatened.

  Kegan slowed his steps until he was beside her. He said nothing at first, just rested a steady hand on her shoulder.

  “Go walk with the girls,” he said gently. “I’ll speak with him.”

  Aurora swallowed and nodded, blinking back the sting in her eyes. She forced her feet to move, falling into step beside Lili and Alora as their laughter softened into something easier, less bright.

  Kegan caught up to Ymir. The two walked a little ahead, their voices low, nearly lost to the wind.

  Aurora didn’t look at them this time. But she felt the space between them.