Chapter 9.7 - The Truth

Ancient oak shadows stretched before me like a dark sentinel, gnarled branches reaching toward the sky in silent supplication. My hands trembled as I traced the rough edges of my father's headstone, feeling each groove of his name. Aeron Lambert. Evening air carried the musty scent of decaying leaves and damp earth, while somewhere in the distance, a mourning dove's cry pierced the silence like an arrow through my already fractured heart.

My legs buckled, knees hitting the ground with enough force to send jolts of pain through my body. I welcomed it, anything to distract from the chaos in my mind. My fingers clawed into the soil, desperation making me dig deeper as if I could somehow reach through the ground to find answers.

"I miss you, father," I choked out, the words scraping my throat raw. The wind whipped through the dying oak's remaining leaves, carrying with it the bitter taste of my own isolation.

Every muscle in my body felt wound tight, ready to snap under the weight of these dreams that wouldn't let me go. Valeria's face floated behind my eyes. Her golden hair catching the moonlight I'd seen, those crystal-blue eyes holding immense love for someone who looked like me. How could I yearn so deeply for someone who existed only in my mind?

"I don't know what's real anymore," I confessed to the silent grave, my voice breaking. I pressed my forehead against the cold stone, seeking some kind of anchor. "These dreams, these... memories. They're not just in my head anymore. I can feel them in my heart, in my blood." My hands shook as I formed them into fists, watching my knuckles turn white. "The way my body moved with swords; it knows things I never learned. My instincts... they're not mine anymore, but somehow they are."

Hot tears spilled down my cheeks, and I didn't bother wiping them away this time. My breath came in ragged gasps that tore at my lungs. "What if I'm not who I think I am?" The words came out in a broken whisper. "What if this entire life is just..." I doubled over, arms wrapped around my middle as if I could physically hold myself together.

The soft crunch of leaves announced another presence. I stiffened, quickly drawing my sleeve across my face, though I knew there was no hiding the way my shoulders shuddered with each breath.

"Einar?"

Mother's voice quavered in the evening air, laden with an emotion I'd never heard before. I turned, still on my knees, to find her standing there, her figure bathed in moonlight. Her fingers worked frantically at the amulet she always wore. Her face was drawn, years of hidden burden evident in the deep lines around her eyes.

"Mother..." My voice cracked, barely recognizable. "Why are you here?"

She moved toward me with halting steps, her usual grace replaced by a hesitancy I'd never seen. Her hands twisted the fabric of her gown, knuckles white with tension. "I should be asking you the same," she said softly, her eyes scanning my face as if memorizing it. "You look so lost, my son."

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I dropped my gaze to the ground, watching as my tears darkened the earth beneath me. "I was thinking about father," I muttered, my throat tight. "About everything."

"Einar..." Her voice broke on my name, and something in that sound made my head snap up. She swayed slightly. "Forgive me... for everything."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I stumbled to my feet, my legs unsteady beneath me. "Forgive you? For what, mother? What are you saying?"

She drew a shaky breath, her hand pressing against her chest as if to keep her heart from breaking. "These dreams you're having..." Her voice trembled. "I should have told you about them long, long ago."

"W-What about them?"

"They're yours, Einar. Your memories. From a life you once lived."

"Life I once lived? That doesn't make sense."

"They were supposed to be there from your birth," she continued, each word seeming to age her. "But you showed no signs, n-no changes. I thought... I thought they were gone. I was wrong. Your features, those crimson eyes. I lied about them coming from your grandfather."

Something stirred in my blood, that same instinct from before. "Then why do they haunt me now of all times?" My voice deepened with each word, becoming something older, something that didn't belong to my seventeen years. "Who is this woman? Why am I like this?" The words tore from my throat in a roar that shook the leaves above us. "AM I EVEN REAL?"

Mother flinched as my eyes blazed with rage that wasn’t mine, not always. But instead of backing away, she surged forward, wrapping her arms around me with desperate strength. Her body trembled against mine, but her grip remained firm. "You're as real as that bright moon, my son," she whispered fiercely into my shoulder, her tears soaking through my tunic. "But there's more to you than this life."

My hands hung at my sides, unsure whether to embrace her or push her away. "Tell me... everything," I demanded, my voice rough with emotion. "Please."

She pulled back just enough to look up at me, her face streaked with tears but set with determination. Her hands cupped my face, thumbs brushing away tears I hadn't realized were still falling. "Yes, my love. But first, you should know me. My name is not Lyna, it’s Lyra." She straightened her spine, and suddenly I saw not just my mother, but a woman of noble bearing. "I am Lyra Leonhart, Lady of Leonhart and daughter of Edwinn the Flame, Lord of Emberfell."

"Lyra Leonhart? Emberfell?" The name sparked a memory from history books. "The First City?"

"Yes." She lifted her chin, and in that moment, I saw the weight of years of deception fall away from her shoulders. "And now, it's time you learned who you truly are. It started years before your birth... your fate binding itself to mine... and hers."

As she began her tale, I felt the foundations of my world crumbling beneath my feet. My fingers dug into her arms, seeking stability as everything I thought I knew shifted like sand in a storm. If everything was real, what did that make me now? The question echoed in my mind as the night grew deeper around us, the old oak our only witness.