The fires in Redhollow had gone out.
Not in destruction—but in peace.
Villagers whispered their names into carvings again. Children repeated stories their parents barely remembered. On the hill outside the village, the silver-threaded light of the memory seed still pulsed faintly beneath the roots of an old tree.
Elric sat near it, journal open, staring at the horizon.
Behind him, footsteps approached.
Sylas.
He didn't say anything at first—just crouched near the edge of the hill and ran a scalpel between his fingers like a coin.
Elric finally spoke. "You've been quiet."
"I usually am," Sylas replied. "But something about this place makes it worse."
Elric looked over. "Because of the memory sickness?"
Sylas's fingers paused.
"No," he said. "Because the trees here remember me."
---
Unearthed
Elric turned, expression unreadable. "What are you talking about?"
Sylas stared out toward the trees.
"I thought I could bury it. I thought if I focused on medicine, on the body, I wouldn't have to face what I was born from."
Lira approached from the side, overhearing. She raised an eyebrow. "Born from what?"
Sylas sighed.
Then pulled something from beneath his coat—a carved shard of bark, etched with a silver rune.
The same pattern from the Hollowveil tree.
"I didn't just study elven memory theory," Sylas said. "I helped write it. Before they cast me out."
Cai, now standing nearby, spoke quietly.
"You're not human."
Sylas nodded slowly.
"Half. Enough to be tolerated in the woods. Not enough to be welcome."
He tossed the bark shard onto the ground. It pulsed—responding to the lingering Hollowveil energy.
Lira stepped back slightly. "You've known all this time?"
"I walked away from that life," Sylas said. "But I never stopped remembering."
---
Confession and Consequence
Elric stood. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't think it mattered. Until now."
"You could've spoken to Serenith—warned us."
Sylas smiled bitterly. "She would've known me. She might've remembered why I was exiled."
"And why was that?"
"Because I tried to do what you're doing. Mix memory with medicine. Record pain so no one would repeat it. They said it was unnatural."
He looked away.
"So I walked into the human world and stitched wounds instead."
---
Decision
Elric placed a hand on Sylas's shoulder.
"You don't need to run anymore. I don't care what the Council says. Or the elves. You're part of this."
Sylas looked up—finally, genuinely surprised.
Lira muttered, "You're still annoying. But at least now we know why you always smell like tree bark and secrets."
A rare smile passed between them.
---
Closing
Down in the village, Marin was calling them.
Another messenger had arrived.
This one bore no crest. But he carried a parchment sealed in wax—and stamped not by the Council, but a house sigil long thought vanished.
A royal house.
Elric looked at the paper.
Then at Sylas.
"Looks like memory isn't the only thing waking up."
---