Elara screamed, scrambling to his side as he crumpled, his body scorched and trembling. "Why—why would you—"
Ronan coughed weakly, forcing a pained smile. "Couldn't let you… get hurt. You… have to finish this…"
Tears streamed down Elara's face. "No—this isn't how it ends—"
But before she could speak again, Veridian exhaled slowly and lifted his hand. With a soft flick of his wrist, the illusion shattered.
The flames vanished. Ronan was whole—unharmed. The cavern returned to its stillness, as though nothing had happened.
Elara stared, breathless. "What—what is this?"
Veridian's eyes gleamed with something unreadable—pride, perhaps, or something colder. "It was a test."
Ronan blinked in shock, confusion plain on his face. "A test?"
"Yes." Veridian's voice was steady now. "To see if you were truly worthy of protecting her. To see if your heart… was true."
Elara's lip trembled. "You… you put us through this—why?"
"Because," Veridian said, his gaze softening just a fraction, "this journey will break you. If your bond is weak, it will shatter. I had to know… if he was ready."
Elara clenched her fists. "And?"
Veridian gave a slow nod. "He passed."
Ronan stared, still struggling to breathe through the phantom pain. "Then… what now?"
Veridian smiled—small, cold, but not without a trace of approval. "Now… I give you the strength you've always had, buried deep. It is time you remembered who you truly are."
With a wave of his staff, Veridian called forth ancient magic. Blue light engulfed Ronan, tendrils sinking into his skin, his soul.
Ronan gasped—his body arching as power surged through him. Memories—long buried—flooded back. Magic that once flowed through his veins reignited, his very blood humming with it.
When the light faded, he collapsed to his knees, panting—but there was something new in his eyes. A quiet power. A spark of who he was meant to be.
Elara dropped beside him, grasping his hand. "Ronan… are you…?"
"I'm fine," he rasped—but his lips curled into a real, if exhausted, smile. "I remember now."
Veridian turned away. "Good. You'll need it. The next shard… will test all of you."
And with that, he vanished—leaving behind only the crackling silence, and the weight of what they had just endured.
The illusion broke like glass under a hammer—shards of memory and light swirling away until the cavern returned to its cold, oppressive stillness.
Elara staggered, her fingers tightly clutching the second shard, its faint glow pulsing against her palm. Ronan stood beside her, pale but steady, his gaze distant—haunted.
Taryn rushed toward them, breathless. "Where the hell were you two? What happened? You vanished, and then the pedestal lit up and—"
She froze when she saw Elara's face—too pale, too quiet. Her eyes weren't meeting Taryn's, instead fixated on the shard.
"Elara?" Taryn's voice softened. "Talk to me."
But it wasn't Elara who answered. Ronan's voice cut through the tense silence.
"Daughter of gods?" His words were slow, heavy with disbelief. His eyes snapped toward Elara, full of questions he hadn't known he needed to ask until now. "Just who are you, Elara?"
Taryn blinked, startled. "What—what do you mean, daughter of gods?" She turned from Ronan to Elara, wide-eyed. "Elara…?"
The weight of the moment pressed on Elara's shoulders. She let out a slow, trembling sigh and finally looked up at both of them—her friends, her protectors.
"I owe you both the truth," she whispered. "Or at least… as much as I know."
Taryn's breath caught. "Elara…?"
"Not here." Elara's voice was firm, steadier now. "Let's make camp. It's a long story… and you both deserve to hear it properly."
—---
They moved in silence, finding shelter in a hollow near the cavern's entrance. Taryn kept glancing at Elara, chewing her lip, while Ronan stayed unusually quiet—his sharp eyes locked on the fire they built, lost in his own turmoil.
When the flames burned steady, Elara sat between them, staring at the flickering light. The shard lay in front of her, its glow illuminating her pensive face.
She took a breath and began.
"I was raised in a quiet village. Grew up believing I was just… normal. Nothing special. But the night I turned eighteen, something changed." Her gaze lifted toward the starless sky beyond the cave. "It was tradition to visit the village temple on your coming of age. I thought it was just ceremony… but the moment I stepped inside, I had my first vision."
She shuddered. "It wasn't just flashes of light or dreams. It was… memories. War. Fire. A city crumbling. And… a man in shadows watching me."
Taryn frowned, leaning forward. "The hooded man?"
Elara nodded. "The same. That night, my Grams—she told me everything she knew. That I wasn't born like everyone else. I wasn't found, I was placed in her care… as a baby. And the midwife who helped raise me was sworn to secrecy by the Temple."
Ronan's eyes darkened. "Placed… by who?"
"My mother," Elara whispered. "Luna—the goddess of the moon. And my father… Veridian."
Taryn recoiled slightly, blinking. "Veridian? That Veridian? The man who—who tested you?"
Elara nodded. "Yes. He… was there that night. And my Grams told me he'd visited once before, when I was still a child, watching from afar. But he never stayed."
Ronan let out a low, bitter laugh. "So you really are… divine."
"I don't feel like it." Elara hugged her knees, voice small. "And it gets worse. Grams told me… I died once. In the clearing where we met, Taryn." She looked at her. "That wasn't the first time I was there. I died there—during the war."
Both Ronan and Taryn fell silent, the crackle of the fire loud in the heavy air.
"Elara," Taryn whispered, "do you mean… you're reborn?"
Elara shook her head slowly. "No… I don't think so. That's the thing." She looked at both of them, searching for understanding. "From what Grams said—and what I've seen in my dreams and the memories we shared—I wasn't reborn like you two. Something happened… in the war. Something that caused me to revert… to become a child again. They put me into a slumber, sealed me away until… the time was right."
Ronan exhaled sharply, leaning back. "So while we… lived and died and forgot… you slept through the centuries?"
"I think so," Elara admitted. "Luna said… it was the only way to protect me. But now… the world needs me awake. That's why I've started dreaming, remembering. That's why we're finding these shards."
Taryn's eyes glistened, though she forced a smirk. "So… what? You're a sleeping goddess? Waiting for us mere mortals to wake you?"
Elara huffed a laugh through her tears. "Hardly. I'm just as lost as you, Taryn." Her voice softened. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do… or why he—the hooded man—keeps appearing in my dreams. But I know… it's all connected to the shards. To the war."
Ronan stayed quiet for a long time, staring into the fire. Finally, he spoke. "And what about us, Elara? If you were… sealed away… why are Taryn and I reborn? What's the connection?"
Elara's gaze met his, soft but full of certainty. "I don't know the whole truth yet… but what I do know is that we've been connected since the beginning. You were Caelan's sworn brother, Ronan. You died trying to protect him… and me." Her eyes drifted to Taryn. "And you, Taryn… you were my light. My sword. My heart."
Taryn flinched. "Elara…"
"I think… we were always meant to find each other again. No matter how many lifetimes it takes."
Ronan scrubbed a hand through his hair. "And now? What do we do with all of this?"
Elara reached forward, her fingers brushing the shard. It pulsed in answer, a soft hum vibrating through the ground. "We find the other shards. We learn the whole truth. And we finish what we started… all those lifetimes ago."
Taryn gave a shaky laugh. "Gods… what a mess. But if you think I'm leaving your side now, you're more insane than I thought."
Ronan gave a rare, crooked grin. "Same."
Elara smiled, tears glistening in her eyes. For the first time, the burden felt lighter—not because the path ahead was clearer, but because she wasn't walking it alone.
"We rest tonight," she whispered. "Tomorrow… we find the next shard."
And under the silent sky, the three of them sat together—bound by fate, by memory, and by the fragile, unspoken hope that this time… they might change the ending.