5. Memories

> Place : Hyden Castle

> Realm : Aracaneaum

> Ethan’s Status : 3 Zyk in Fairy age (5.5 yr in human age), 3’6’’ft, growing up.

> Time : Evening, 1048th Rev of Timestar. Present.

> Population : 0.00000000000000001% (Only Ten fairies and Ethan)

The evening bathed the castle's rooftop garden in a warm, golden blue glow. The soft, emerald grass beneath them felt cool and inviting. Ethan sat cross-legged in the centre of the garden, surrounded by his fairy friends. Tara was kneeling in front of him, her expression both patient and encouraging as she guided him through the intricacies of magic.

The other fairies lounged around them, their smiles wide as they observed the endearing scene. The laughter and joy in the air were palpable.

Tara, with a playful glint in her eyes, said, "Alright, Ethan. Let’s get this spell right this time. Remember, last time you turned my table into a walking disaster!"

Luna chuckled, remembering the chaos. "Oh, that was quite a scene. The table went on a rampage and made a real mess in the castle."

Mira added, her laughter tinged with amusement. "And it only stopped when Lira managed to catch it. It was like watching a table gone rogue."

Flora, still laughing, said, "And let’s not forget how Tara and Ethan slipped away so quietly afterward, acting like they hadn’t done anything."

The group burst into laughter again, the memory of Ethan’s magical mishap bringing smiles all around.

Ethan, his cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and determination, replied with a grin, "Okay, I’ll be more careful this time."

Tara nodded approvingly. "Great! Now, repeat after me..." She took a breath and began, "Levito Aeris."

Ethan, concentrating hard, attempted to repeat the spell but stumbled. "Levito Aris?"

Tara gently corrected him, her tone light and encouraging. "No, Charmer. It’s ‘Levito Aeris.’ Try again."

Ethan nodded, focusing intently. "Levito Aeris."

Tara smiled, her eyes shining with pride. "Very good! Now, let’s see it in action. Hey Mira, could you pass me that stone over there?"

Mira picked up the stone and handed it to Tara, her expression curious. "Here you go, Tara."

Tara handed the stone to Ethan. "Alright, give it a try on this stone. Remember, aim for it to fly."

Ethan took the stone, his tiny hands trembling with concentration. The fairies watched intently, their smiles widening in anticipation.

Ethan muttered the spell once more. "Levite Aaris!"

A puff of smoke burst from the stone, and when it cleared, the stone had transformed into a small, bouncy, jelly-like blob. The unexpected sight sent ripples of laughter through the group.

Ethan stared at the jelly-like creation in dismay. "Ewww! What’s this? The stone was supposed to fly!"

Fairies and Tara burst into laughter, her voice light and teasing. "Oh, little Charmer. Looks like your spell turned the stone into a bouncing jelly. Maybe it’s trying to dance its way to you!"

Ethan’s face fell into a disappointed pout. "Nooo... Every time my spells do something different."

Tara leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on his pouty face, her eyes full of warmth. "Oh, my charmer. Don’t worry. I’ll keep teaching you. One day, you’ll master it and make all the spells work just right."

Ethan’s pout slowly melted into a smile, his spirits lifted by Tara’s encouragement. The fairies continued to laugh and chat, enjoying the evening’s peaceful and joyful atmosphere.

The laughter among the fairies filled the garden, light and carefree, as Tara gently cradled Ethan in her lap. He rested there, his face pressed against her, listening to the joyful sounds around him. But suddenly, something shifted in Ethan—his body stiffened, his face went pale, and his eyes widened with an unsettling stillness. The flashes of forgotten memories struck him like lightning, images flickering in and out, too quick to comprehend but sharp enough to startle him.

Tara, still laughing with the others, didn’t notice right away. But as Ethan grew heavier and more motionless in her lap, she finally felt something was wrong. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked down at him, her playful smile vanishing.

Tara's eyes widened in alarm as she leaned in, her voice filled with panic, "Ethan? Ethan!" She cupped his small, pale face, her hands trembling slightly. "Look at me, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Please, say something!"

Her tone cut through the laughter like a knife, and suddenly the light-hearted atmosphere shifted into a tense, serious moment. The other fairies, sensing something was wrong, rushed over in concern, their expressions now filled with worry.

"Ethan!" Nia gasped, pushing through the others. "What’s happening to him?"

Mira dropped to her knees beside Tara, her voice soft but urgent. "Ethan, are you okay? Please, say something, sweetheart."

Sylph knelt down on his other side, her eyes wide with fear. "Ethan, please! Speak, just say anything! Look at me, baby."

Zara, calmer but equally concerned, placed her hand on Ethan's back, trying to comfort him. "Let him breathe, everyone. Ethan, it’s okay. We’re here. Stay calm, sweetie."

Ethan's chest rose and fell rapidly, his breath shallow, his eyes darting around as he struggled to piece together the fragmented images. He could see their worried faces all around him, but the flashes of his memories still clung to him like shadows.

“Tara..Tar….” Ethan finally whispered between heavy breaths, his voice trembling.

Flora immediately bent down to his level, her voice soft and full of warmth. "Breathe, baby. It's okay. Just take it easy, alright? We're here with you."

Luna placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, her tone calming but firm. "You’re safe, Ethan. Take a deep breath."

Ethan trying to catch his breath, but the fear still lingered in his wide eyes. He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. "It was… flashing… like something …."

Elara, now kneeling next to him, spoke with a gentle but pressing tone. "Flashing? Did you see something….in your mind? "

Ethan nodded again, but his voice wavered, his small hands trembling slightly. "I saw… me… I saw myself… but… I don’t know what it means."

Before anyone could ask more, Ethan instinctively buried his face into Tara's chest, seeking comfort and hiding from the confusion that gripped him. His small frame trembled in her embrace, overwhelmed by the fragments of memories he couldn’t fully understand.

Tara immediately wrapped her arms around him tightly, cradling him as if he were the most fragile thing in the world. "Shh, shh… it’s okay, my sweet Charmer. I’ve got you." Her voice was soothing, filled with tenderness as she stroked his hair. "Nothing can hurt you here. Just breathe. I’m right here."

Elara, kneeling beside them, reached out and gently cupped Ethan’s pale face, her soft voice almost like a whisper. "Did you see us, Ethan? "

Ethan slowly nodded against Tara's chest, but he remained quiet, too shaken to speak more. His small hands clung to Tara, as if afraid to let go.

Lira, standing protectively over him, knelt down and brushed her hand through his hair. "It’s okay, little champ. You’re safe now. You don’t need to be scared anymore." Her voice was low, but firm, as though making a promise.

As Tara gently carried Ethan away, his small body still trembling in her arms, Flora, Nia and Mira followed closely behind, their faces etched with concern. The remaining fairies stood together, the garden that had been full of laughter moments ago now wrapped in a heavy, pensive silence.

Lira crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully as she glanced at Elara. “What do you think, Rynous? What was that?” Her voice was steady, but beneath it lay a thread of tension.

Elara’s face was calm but contemplative, her voice soft and wise. “His memories,” she said simply**. “Somehow... they’re coming back.”**

Sylph, who had been quiet for once, exhaled deeply. “That’s... good.” She paused, her expression turning somber, her playful spark momentarily dimmed. “And bad, too. Both.”

Aria, ever the optimist, chimed in. “Aisling told us this might happen. If his memories are returning, maybe...”

“We don’t know that, Aria,” Nia interrupted gently, her calm voice laced with a hint of caution. “We haven’t seen any signs since that day. We can’t jump to conclusions.”

Luna nodded in agreement, her tone measured. “Right. We can’t rely on just speculation yet..”

Lira, always the leader, looked around at the group, her expression resolute. “Then we wait. Let it be his fate, whatever it may be. We’ll stand by him, no matter what.”

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A heavy silence settled over them, the weight of their conversation pressing down like an invisible fog. For a moment, the fairies were lost in thought, grappling with the uncertain future. It was Zara, who had been quiet up until now, who finally broke the stillness.

She stood gazing at the horizon, her voice soft but filled with meaning as she spoke. “I remember... Ethan was standing on a rock, watching the sunset on Veliara” A small smile tugged at her lips as she recalled the memory, her eyes distant as though she could still see the scene unfold. “He told me he loved sunsets more than sunrises. I laughed at how adorable he sounded. But when I asked him why... he said, ‘Because the sun sets to rise. And after the sun sets, there’s always a beautiful night. Stars to gaze at. Glowing galaxies.’”

The others listened intently, not a word spoken, their eyes fixed on Zara.

“His words were so deep,” Zara continued, her voice now reflecting the present, growing stronger with each word. “We may be facing our darkest night... but at least we have him. He’s our luyn(Moon) in the dark night. The reason we keep moving, even though we’ve lost so much—our home, our families... our entire civilization and realms.”

Her voice faltered slightly but remained steady as she finished, “And we will keep moving.”

The fairies were silent, hanging on every word Zara spoke, her voice echoing in the air like a beacon of hope. Then, as if sensing the weight of the moment, Sylph suddenly leaned forward, her fiery wings twitching playfully.

"Zara, that was so dramatic," Sylph teased, breaking the tension with a cheeky grin. “Next thing you know, you’ll be writing poetry about the stars.”

Aria chuckled and jumped in, “Yeah, that speech was one sunset short of a fairy motivational seminar. Do we get free snacks afterward?”

The lighthearted comments sparked a wave of laughter among the fairies, the tension finally melting away. Sylph and Aria exchanged a mischievous glance, but their eyes softened as they turned back to Zara.

“But...” Sylph’s voice was quieter now, the teasing tone giving way to sincerity. “You’re right, Zara. No matter how dark it gets... we’ll keep moving. For him. Always.”

Luna nodded, her usual playful spark tempered by determination. “Yep. Dark night, bright stars, and all that. We’re not going anywhere. We’ve got each other, and we’ve got him.”

Zara smiled, her heart warmed by the love and loyalty that bound them all together. “Yes, we do,” she said softly, her gaze turning to the horizon once more, the last rays of the sun fading into the deepening night.

And in that moment, with the sun setting behind them and the future uncertain, they all felt the same unspoken vow—to protect Ethan, to stand by him, no matter what the future held.

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> Place : Aibel Fort (Now stronghold of Ryznith)

> Realm : Aracaneaum

> Ethan’s Status : 3 Zyk in Fairy age (5.5 yr in human age), 3’6’’ft, growing up.

> Time : Present, 1048th Rev of Timestar. Present.

> Population : 0.00000000000000001% (Only Ten fairies and Ethan)

Ryznith reclined in the imposing throne, her claws idly tracing the intricate patterns of the seat that had once belonged to a queen far greater than her. A twisted smile curled her lips as she surveyed her domain, the realm of Ignis now under her control—or so she believed.

"You!" Ryznith snarled at one of her mindless, grotesque minions, who cowered at the edge of the chamber. "Bring me something to eat."

The creature, its body contorted and broken from countless servitudes, scrambled away, too terrified to disobey. Ryznith, for a moment, felt like a ruler—powerful, unstoppable. She leaned back into the throne, a cruel satisfaction settling over her.

But then, a blinding red light suddenly pierced the dimness of the chamber, drawing her gaze immediately. Her smug expression faltered, and she shifted uneasily in the throne as the light began to take form. From within it, a familiar, towering figure emerged, his presence commanding the very air around her.

Zovrath.

Her heart raced, her body stiffening with a fear she hadn’t felt in years. She was his puppet, yes, but after so long without his presence, she had almost begun to believe she was more. That she was the true ruler now. But that illusion shattered the moment his projection stepped forward, his cold, unwavering gaze fixed on her.

The throne that had once felt so grand now seemed too large, too powerful for her, as Zovrath’s aura engulfed the chamber. Without hesitation, she fell to her knees before him, her head bent so low that her forehead nearly touched the ground. “My Lord, Zovrath.”

He observed her in silence, his dark eyes unblinking as they bore into her. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he began to move—his steps slow and deliberate, each one sending a ripple of tension through Ryznith’s body as he circled her.

"Enjoying the throne, I see," Zovrath’s voice was calm but carried a weight that made the air seem heavier. There was no anger in his tone, but the underlying power in it made her tremble.

Her voice shook as she replied, still kneeling, face to the floor. “N-no, my Lord,” she stammered, too afraid to meet his gaze.

Zovrath came to a halt by the throne, his hand grazing its edge with something almost akin to reverence. His voice was softer now, but more dangerous for it. “Do you know whose throne this was, Ryznith?”

She dared not raise her eyes. “N-no, my Lord. But it is yours now.”

Zovrath's fingers traced the delicate carvings on the throne, a faint, almost nostalgic smile playing at his lips. “This throne once belonged to Aibel, Supreme Erudite of Aracaneum. A leader unmatched in wisdom and strength,” he said, his tone carrying an uncharacteristic respect. “Even I, who have crushed realms, must admit her greatness and wisdom”

Ryznith’s mind raced. She hoped to appease him, to regain her standing, even as fear coiled tighter around her heart. “I... I am pleased you’re here, my Lord,” she lied, her voice betraying her fear despite her best efforts. “You are free now.”

Zovrath’s smile faded as he turned to look down at her. “No, Ryznith. I am not free. Not yet,” he said, his voice lowering into a dangerous calm. “Not until I possess the Codex.”

Her breath hitched, and she nodded frantically. “I’ll do anything to get it for you, my Lord,” she offered, her voice quick and desperate, hoping her display of loyalty would be enough to please him.

Zovrath's gaze held hers for a long, unnerving moment before he continued, his tone almost contemplative. “Aibel was a remarkable leader,” he said, his voice soft yet firm. “She ruled this realm with grace and strength. She and that little human of hers nearly killed me. It was not a simple conquest.” He let the words hang in the air, his respect for the fallen queen clear, but his acknowledgment of her fate chilling.

Ryznith’s eyes widened. The implication struck her like a blow. He had killed Aibel. He had admired her, even respected her—and yet he had crushed her all the same.

Still trembling, Ryznith forced her words out. “That human is the reason I choose you, My Lord. I’ll do anything for you.”

Zovrath’s eyes, now cold and calculating, turned to her once more. “Anything? Then find the fairies and that little verminous human. I want them alive. They are here on Aracaneum,” he commanded, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

“I will, my Lord. I will put my entire—” she began, but Zovrath's voice thundered, cutting her off with finality.

“Consider it your revenge on them....” he repeated, his tone brooking no argument.

Ryznith’s heart pounded in her chest as she knelt there, her head still bowed low**. “Yes, my Lord,”** she whispered.

Zovrath stood tall and silent for a moment longer, his respect for Aibel lingering in the air like a ghost. Then, without another word, his projection began to fade back into the light, leaving Ryznith trembling before the empty throne of the great leader who once ruled the realm she now claimed as her own.

But as Zovrath disappeared, the weight of his command pressed down on her, the knowledge that even someone as great as Aibel had fallen to him. And now, she was tasked with bringing him the fairies.

As the last remnants of Zovrath’s projection faded, Ryznith slumped into the throne, her muscles tense yet suffused with a brief relief. The suffocating presence of her master had retreated, leaving only the echo of his commands. She exhaled, sharp and shallow, but the weight of Zovrath's will still clung to her, pressing down on her chest like a vice.

Her fingers twitched against the arms of the throne as her mind raced.

"Zovrath... How did he return?" she whispered to herself, her voice hoarse with uncertainty. "No... No, he said he isn’t free. Not yet..."

Her eyes flickered with frustration, narrowing into slits as the realization set in. He was still bound—still reaching from whatever prison held him. But he was closer now, closer than she had ever feared. And his re-emergence meant only one thing: her time as the queen of this forsaken realm was coming to an end.

Her lips curled into a snarl. "Curse him," she spat through gritted teeth. "Curse him for returning now, after all these cycles. After I made this realm mine."

Her thoughts churned with rage. For so long, she had ruled this broken land, her twisted form a constant reminder of Zovrath’s power. But in his absence, she had tasted something more—something that almost felt like freedom, like dominance. She had begun to think of herself as Zovrath’s equal, even his successor. But now, his mere projection had shattered that delusion.

The sudden surge of fury burned through her veins, and in an instant, her hand shot out, snatching one of her mindless minion creatures from the ground by its head. Its grotesque body wriggled helplessly in her iron grip, its limbs flailing as Ryznith’s claws dug deeper into its skull.

"Tell me!" she hissed through clenched teeth, her voice a venomous growl as she slowly applied pressure to the creature’s head. It whimpered and squealed, but it could offer nothing but pitiful noises, for it was as brainless as it was fearful. Her rage swelled. "How they are still alive? Where are they hiding?" she demanded, her voice growing more vicious with each word.

Her grip tightened, and the creature’s body convulsed as its skull began to give way under the pressure. Ryznith’s lips peeled back in a sneer as she crushed the minion's head further, savoring the small crackling sounds of its bones breaking. "If Zovrath wants those wretched fairies," she snarled, her tone thick with contempt, "then they must have something... something vital to him!"

With a scream of frustration, she hurled the nearly lifeless creature across the throne room. Its broken form skidded across the stone floor, twitching as it clung to the last vestiges of its miserable existence.

Ryznith rose from the throne, towering over the chamber, her eyes glowing with murderous intent. She glanced at the horde of grotesque creatures crawling around her throne like vermin—her army of mindless, soulless slaves. They had been her weapons, her tools of terror, but now they were useless to her unless they could find what Zovrath sought.

Her voice exploded in a thunderous roar, echoing through the dark, cavernous throne room. "Go!" she commanded, her voice shaking the very foundations of the palace. "Search every corner of the Arcaneum Realm! Find those fairies! Bring them to me!"

At her command, the ground seemed to tremble as the hordes of minions stirred. It was as if a vast, disturbed ant colony had suddenly come to life. Thousands of the creatures began pouring out of the throne room, crawling over each other in their haste to obey. Some were small and insect-like, skittering across the stone floors with eerie speed. Others were hulking, bloated monstrosities, their bodies twisted and swollen, some teetering on the verge of explosion. All of them moved with single-minded purpose, their grotesque forms slithering, crawling, and stomping through the chamber and out into the world.

The sight was a terrifying chaos—a living, seething tide of horrors unleashed upon the realm. Like ants scurrying from a disturbed nest, they streamed from every dark corner, spilling out of the palace in countless numbers. Some carried flames in their twisted limbs, leaving trails of fire as they went, while others dragged themselves along the ground, their skin bubbling and popping with malignant energy.

Ryznith watched them go, her lips curling into a sinister smile as the room slowly emptied of the creatures. Her eyes gleamed with a malevolent fire, her claws flexing as she relished the chaos she had set in motion.

"Go, you worthless things," she whispered darkly to herself, her eyes narrowing as the last of the creatures disappeared into the dark horizon. "Find them. And if you do... I'll make them suffer before I deliver them to him."

Her gaze shifted back to the throne—the throne of Aibel, the great ruler she had replaced, the queen Zovrath had admired, even in her death. Ryznith’s claws traced the carved armrests with a bitter smile.

"I will find them, Zovrath," she whispered to the empty chamber, her voice dripping with venomous intent. "And when I do, it will be my name they fear. Not yours."

And with that, Ryznith sank back into the throne, her mind already turning over the possibilities.