Chapter 3: Lioren’s POV

The days after that felt almost calm, but I knew better than to trust it. In my life, calm never lasted. It was just a quiet time before something else happened. Still, I went along with it, because I had no other choice.

Kael getting better changed things. At first, it was small. He moved with more confidence, stood longer without needing help, and spoke more surely. Soon, these small changes became big ones. He could walk across the room without help. He didn’t need to hold onto the wall to keep his balance. The injuries that had left him barely awake now seemed like small problems, not big ones.

The way we were together changed. Before, I was in charge. I decided what happened in our small space. Now, I wasn’t so sure. It wasn't because he tried to take charge. It was because he didn't need me as much anymore.

But he stayed. That was the part I didn't understand. He could have left when he was strong enough. Nothing was forcing him to stay in a place that offered so little. But every morning, when I woke up, he was still there. Sometimes near the door, sometimes sitting quietly against the wall, always awake. Always watching.

It should have made me nervous. But I found myself getting used to it.

Sometimes, he would get very quiet. It felt different from when he was resting or just watching. It was something deeper. His eyes would stare at nothing, and his face would tighten, as if he were trying to reach something he couldn’t quite grasp.

At first, I thought he was just thinking. But it happened too often for that.

“You’re doing it again,” I said one afternoon. I broke the quiet as I put down some dry roots I had found.

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed unfocused for another moment before looking back at me. The tight look on his face smoothed away as if it had never been there.

“Doing what?” he asked.

I crossed my arms, looking at him. “That thing where you disappear without moving.”

A small line appeared between his eyebrows. It wasn't confusion, and it wasn’t saying he didn't. “I didn’t know I was doing anything.”

“You weren’t,” I said. “That’s the problem.” He thought about that for a moment, his eyes drifting again, but not as far this time. “It feels like… something is there,” he said slowly. “But I can’t reach it.”

His honest words surprised me. I expected him to change the subject, or at least try to ignore it. Instead, he spoke like his frustration was something he didn't need to hide.

“Memories?” I asked.

“Maybe,” he replied. “Or something like them.” I watched him for another second before looking away. “Whatever it is,” I said, keeping my voice normal, “you should be careful.”

“With what?”

“With trying too hard to find it.” He tilted his head, studying me the same way I had been studying him. “Why?”

“Because not everything is worth remembering,” I said. The words came out softer than I meant them to. For a moment, we were both quiet. Then he nodded, as if he accepted my answer without asking more. But I could tell he hadn’t completely forgotten about it. He never did.

***

As he got stronger, his questions began to change. At first, they were simple, about what he needed and what was around him. Now, they had more meaning. More purpose.

“What kind of kingdom is this?” he asked one evening as we sat near the doorway, the light fading and making shadows on the ground.

I looked at him briefly before answering. “The kind where people like us don’t matter.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“It answers enough.” He didn’t seem happy with that.

“Who rules it?” he asked.

“The emperor,” I said. “Who else would it be?”

“That doesn’t tell me anything about him.” I let out a quiet breath, leaning back a little. “He’s powerful,” I said. “That’s all anyone really needs to know.” Kael was quiet for a moment, as if thinking about my answer.

“And the soldiers?” he asked. “How often do they come this far out?”

That made me pause. “Why does that matter?”

“Because I haven’t seen any,” he said. “Not once.”

“That’s a good thing,” I replied quickly. “It means they have no reason to be here.”

“And if that changes?”

I looked at him then, my eyes narrowing a bit. “It doesn’t change without a reason.”

“And what kind of reason would bring them here?” The way he asked it made something in my chest feel tight.

“You’re asking too many questions,” I said.

“Am I?”

“Yes.” He looked at me for a moment longer before nodding slightly. “Then I’ll stop.” But I knew he wouldn’t. Not really. He wasn’t the kind of person to let things go just because he was told to.

***

Even with everything else, something between us kept changing. It wasn’t obvious at first. It didn’t announce itself clearly or demand attention. It settled quietly, in the spaces between our words, in the times when silence felt less awkward than it should have.

He stayed close even when he didn’t need to. If I moved, his eyes followed. If I spoke, he listened, even when what I said wasn’t important. Sometimes I caught him watching me, not with suspicion or planning, but with something quieter. Something I couldn’t name. It made me relax without realizing it. That was my mistake.

***

The first sign that something was wrong came with the wind. It changed slightly, carrying a sound that didn’t fit. At first, it was faint enough to ignore. A far-off noise, easily mistaken for just the forest settling down after a long day. But I had spent too much of my life listening for things others missed.

I froze where I stood, my attention sharpening.

“What is it?” Kael asked from behind me.

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I listened to the sound again. Voices. Faint, but clear. And under them, something heavier. The sound of movement. Not random. Not scattered. Controlled. The steps of armored men.

My body reacted before my mind fully understood. “Inside,” I said quickly, turning to him. “Stay quiet.” He didn’t argue. That, more than anything, told me he knew how serious this was. But as he moved, I saw his face. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t even worry. It was focus. The kind that gets sharper, not weaker.

I felt a little uneasy as I moved closer to the doorway, being careful with my movements as I listened again. The sounds were clearer now. Closer. Too close. “They shouldn’t be here,” I muttered to myself.

“Who?” Kael asked quietly.

“Soldiers.” The word felt heavier than it should have. He was silent for a moment. Then, “Are they looking for someone?” The question made me look back at him. “I don’t know,” I said. “But they don’t come out here without a reason.”

The sounds grew louder, the voices more distinct though still too far away to make out the exact words. I stepped back from the doorway, my mind racing. If they were just passing by, they might not stop. If they were searching… I pushed the thought away. “Stay out of sight,” I said firmly. “Whatever happens, you don’t come out unless I say so.” He held my gaze, something I couldn’t read in his eyes. “Understood,” he said. But there was something in his voice that felt wrong. Something too steady. Too sure.

The noise outside kept growing, the presence of it pressing against the edges of our space like a warning I couldn’t ignore. I moved further inside, positioning myself where I could still hear without being seen. Every instinct I had told me this was wrong. That something had changed beyond my control.

And then I noticed it. Kael wasn’t watching the doorway. He was listening. Not like me, not with caution or fear. But with recognition. His body had changed, subtly but clearly. The tightness in his shoulders wasn’t defensive. It was like he was waiting. As if he knew what was coming. As if he had been waiting for it.

“Kael,” I said quietly. His eyes moved to me. For a moment, the focus in them was sharper than I had ever seen. Familiar in a way that made something in my chest tighten. “What?” he asked. I paused. Because I didn’t know how to ask what I was starting to think.

Outside, the sound of armored steps stopped. Voices followed, clearer now, closer than before. Too close. I felt my heart beat faster, my attention snapping back to the doorway. But even as I focused on the danger outside, I couldn’t ignore the change behind me. 

Slowly, I turned back to him. And in that moment, I understood something I hadn’t wanted to believe. This wasn’t new to him. This wasn’t unexpected. As the voices outside grew louder, as the presence of soldiers settled just beyond the trees, Kael remained still. Not tense. Not unsure. But ready. Like someone standing at the edge of something they always knew would come. And for the first time since I found him, I realized that whatever memory he had lost… wasn’t truly gone.