Zeryth led Bella deeper into the heart of the forest, away from the turmoil and the constant reminders of the people she once knew. The air grew thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the quiet murmurs of the wind seemed to offer a sort of comfort that Bella desperately needed. She wasn’t sure if she trusted Zeryth completely, but something about him made her feel safe—protected, even if only for the moment.
“Let the forest guide you,” Zeryth instructed softly, his voice a calm anchor in the midst of her confusion. “These woods have seen many things, and they remember. Let them help you remember.”
Bella nodded, her steps slow and hesitant as she followed him, feeling the weight of each memory pressing against her chest. Zeryth paused beside an ancient oak tree, its roots sprawling across the forest floor like veins in the earth. He knelt down, gathering a handful of dried herbs and mixing them carefully in his hands.
“The past can be difficult to face,” Zeryth continued, glancing up at her with an understanding look. “But sometimes, the only way forward is through the darkness.”
Bella bit her lip, the flood of emotions she’d been fighting threatening to break through. She had been running for so long, trying to escape the pain of not knowing who she was, of not remembering the people who had been so important to her. And now, the shadows of those lost memories were creeping back, forcing her to confront them whether she was ready or not.
Zeryth spread the herbs on the ground in a careful pattern, his fingers moving with practiced precision. “Sit with me,” he urged, and Bella hesitated before lowering herself onto the cool earth beside him.
“Close your eyes,” he instructed gently. “Breathe deeply. Let go of the confusion, the anger. You need to be calm to reach the memories that are buried inside you.”
Bella inhaled shakily, her chest tight, but she did as he said. The quiet hum of the forest seemed to soothe her nerves, and for a moment, she allowed herself to relax. The tension in her body eased, and her mind became still, the chaos of the past few days slipping away.
“Now,” Zeryth’s voice was a whisper in the stillness, “let the memories come.”
At first, there was nothing—just the sound of her breath, the rustling of leaves in the wind. But then, like a distant echo, a face appeared in her mind. A woman’s face. Dark hair, pale skin, eyes that held both love and an unsettling coldness.
Misery.
Her mother’s face flickered in her mind, but the image was fragmented, disjointed. Bella’s heart ached with the rush of emotions that came with it—confusion, pain, anger. She tried to grasp at the image, but it slipped away, just out of reach.
A voice whispered to her, soft and familiar, but distant. “You are our blood, Bella.”
Then, another face. This time, a man. Eryon. His features were sharp, his expression guarded, as if he was always watching, always waiting. There was a sense of loss in his eyes—something unspoken, hidden beneath the surface.
Bella’s breath hitched as a wave of emotions crashed over her—fragments of her childhood, moments she had forgotten, buried deep within her. The more she remembered, the more overwhelmed she felt.
“No,” she whispered aloud, her hands trembling. “Stop. I can’t—”
Zeryth was there, his hand resting on her shoulder, grounding her. “It’s okay. Let it come, Bella. You have to face it.”
The memories kept coming, faster now—flashes of her parents, the moments of love they shared with her, and then the darkness that followed. The abandonment. The distance.
Bella’s heart clenched, the pain too much to bear. The voices of Misery and Eryon echoed in her mind, distant and faint, but their absence was more deafening than any words they could say.
“They left me…” Bella whispered, her voice breaking, “but why?”