Chapter 8 When Shadows Remember (continued)

The breath left my lungs as Lucien stared at me like I'd cracked his chest open and stolen something sacred. There was so much unsaid in the quiet between us, I could've drowned in it. The firelight caught the gold in his eyes that were both familiar and not, like they remembered things I hadn't yet lived.

"Lucien," I whispered, unsure what part of me spoke his name the girl still trying to find her place in this shattered world, or the soul that recognized him as if it had belonged beside him for centuries.

His throat bobbed. "What are you remembering?"

"I don't know," I admitted, though my body felt heavy with truth. "Everything. And nothing."

We were sitting at the edge of the stone basin in the Temple of Souls, where he'd taken me after the blood vow. The room thrummed with dormant magic, thick with stories etched into the walls in a language I still couldn't read but somehow felt in my bones.

Lucien hadn't spoken much since we arrived, only watching me like he expected me to crumble or rise. Maybe both.

"I shouldn't have let you come with me," he muttered, almost to himself.

I blinked. "Why?"

"Because," he said, turning fully to face me, "every step you take deeper into this world, it pulls you further from who you think you are."

"But maybe who I think I am isn't the truth," I said softly.

That made him look away.

I was too tired to be afraid of the answers anymore.

We stayed in the Temple for what felt like days. Lucien told me pieces of his story in fragmented moment bits of memory wrapped in regret and war. He spoke of the Shadow Court, the blood oath that bound him to serve a king he no longer trusted, and the brother he lost in a war that was never really his to begin with.

"You were supposed to save us," he said once, staring at the carvings in the wall like they could still hear prayers. "Not fall with us."

"You keep saying that," I said, frustrated. "What does it mean?"

His jaw tensed. "It means you were never supposed to remember like this. You were meant to awake whole. Powerful. Unbreakable."

I stood. "Maybe I still will."

He didn't argue.

But he didn't look hopeful either.

The first time the shadows whispered to me again, it was like slipping into a dream half-remembered. I was alone, standing near the outer courtyard, the moonlight casting everything in soft silver. And then I heard it.

My name.

No sound. Just sensation.

Like the memory of being called from across time.

The voice wasn't Lucien's. It wasn't anyone I knew. But it didn't feel foreign either. It felt like me. Like the part of me I hadn't met yet.

And then came the pain. White-hot, clawing through my chest.

I dropped to my knees, gasping, clutching at the mark on my shoulder as it pulsed like it was alive.

Lucien found me moments later, his hands cold as they gripped my arms. "What did you see?"

"I think... I think someone's waking up too."

He paled. "Who?"

"I don't know," I whispered. "But they remember me. And they're angry."

Lucien wanted to take me to the Oracle, but the path was dangerous cut through what remained of the Wraith lands. We traveled for days in silence, sleeping beneath stars that flickered like dying candles and hiding from things that didn't quite belong to this world anymore.

Once, in the forest, we saw something move that didn't cast a shadow.

Lucien pulled me behind him, hand on his blade, but it didn't attack.

It just... watched.

"Everything is remembering," he said, voice shaking.

"Even the dark?"

"Especially the dark."

The Oracle lived in a ruin carved into the side of a mountain. A place where the veil between worlds was thin.

"She'll want blood," Lucien warned as we stepped inside.

"She can have mine."

He looked at me like I'd said something tragic.

The Oracle wasn't what I expected. Not a woman. Not really a being. Just a presencea voice that came from everywhere and nowhere.

"You should not have remembered her first," it said.

"Who?"

"The other half of your flame."

Lucien went still. "That's not possible."

"She dreams of fire," the Oracle said. "And of ending you."

"Who is she?" I demanded.

"Your twin."

The world spun sideways.

Lucien caught me as I swayed.

"That's not possible," I whispered. "I don't have a twin."

"You did," the Oracle replied. "Until she chose shadow over flame."

And then came the vision.

Flashes two girls born of prophecy, one bound to light, the other to ruin. A choice made in blood. A soul split.

I woke on the cold stone floor, sobbing.

Lucien held me like I was the last real thing he could hold.

And in the distance, I felt her.

Coming.

We didn't speak much after that. What was there to say? That I was half of something broken? That I might be the reason everything was unraveling?

Lucien never left my side. Not even when I asked for space. He watched me like a man counting down to disaster. Like he was still deciding whether he'd save me or stop me.

And somewhere, deep inside, I started wondering if he'd have to do both.

The night before we left the mountain, I dreamed of her.

She stood in a place of fire and ash, her hair dark as spilled ink, her eyes mirrors of mine. But colder. Older. She wore a crown of bone and her smile was made of knives.

"You were always the weaker one," she said, stepping closer.

I wanted to run. But I didn't.

"You left me," I said.

"No," she replied. "I became what they feared you would be."

"Why?"

"Because I remember everything. And I will never burn for them again."

She lifted her hand, and flame poured from her fingers.

I woke screaming, the mark on my shoulder blazing like it had caught fire.

Lucien was already pulling me to my feet.

"She's not coming," I gasped.

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"She's already here."

The temple shook. Outside, the sky turned black. Not with clouds but with wings.

And her voice echoed inside my head.

"I remember now, sister. I remember everything. And I'm coming for what's mine."