CHAPTER 59: CHAPTER 59: THE END OF THE MEMORY

Cael rose slowly from the rubble.

His breathing was ragged. Blood ran down his lip, soaking into the collar of his uniform. His left leg trembled as he put weight on it. Cracks laced across the shaft of the Staff of Whispering Nature, and its core flickered weakly.

But he was still standing.

Across from him, the necromancer floated just barely above the ground—his form twisted, barely held together by the remnants of foul magic. His face was a mask of rage and desperation. Limbs hung broken. His chest rose and fell unnaturally, like something already dead clinging to a lie.

He raised one shaking hand.

A glyph began to form—dark, unstable, chaotic. It pulsed with raw necrotic energy.

Cael said nothing.

He tightened his grip on the staff.

Light gathered behind him.

Wind spiraled upward, lifting fragments of dust and ash.

The air pulsed with pressure.

Wind. Gravitational. Light.

The spell hit all at once.

A beam of radiant gold, condensed into a blade of pressure and air, struck the necromancer mid-cast. Time seemed to halt. His body froze, then cracked.

A second later, he shattered.

Just light—pure and silent—as the master of death disintegrated into golden dust.

Cael exhaled.

His knees gave out, and he dropped to the ground, resting on both hands. His fingers curled into the stone. For a long time, he didn’t move.

The wind settled.

The battlefield was quiet.

It was over.

Everything began to break.

The sky—once red and full of smoke—started to crack like shattered glass. Fissures of white light spread across the clouds. The ground beneath Saphielle’s feet trembled, and buildings folded in on themselves like collapsing paper.

The world was falling apart.

She stood frozen in the middle of it all, watching.

Noah faded first—his crimson eyes the last part of him to disappear.

Then Cael—his silhouette breaking apart into wind and light.

And finally, her master—what was left of him—crumbled into dust, along with the legions of the dead. Their forms scattered like ashes into an unseen breeze.

The battlefield emptied.

Only she remained.

But not quite.

Just ahead of her stood another version of herself—motionless, glass-eyed, and eerily still. The hollow Saphielle. The one who had summoned the monster.

Her doppelgänger turned to look at her, but said nothing.

Then, silently, she began to break apart.

First her face. Then her arms. Then everything else.

She drifted upward as glowing particles, absorbed into the sky.

Saphielle’s hands shook.

’Was that really... me?’

She took a step forward.

The moment her foot touched the fractured ground, the entire world shattered.

A surge of white light swallowed everything.

Silence.

Weightless, painless... like floating in a warm sea of nothing.

Saphielle couldn’t see—only feel.

A faint heartbeat. Not her own.

A steady rhythm, close to her ear.

Then... the soft brush of fingers through her hair.

A warmth against her cheek.

Her senses returned one by one—smell, touch, breath.

She felt the fabric of someone’s clothes beneath her head. The scent of cold metal and smoke. The rise and fall of a chest beneath her ear.

Saphielle’s eyelids fluttered.

Light bled through them—dim and orange, like firelight against stone. Her lashes trembled once more, and finally, her eyes opened fully.

The world was still.

She blinked slowly, vision adjusting to the gentle glow of torches lining the ritual chamber walls. The air smelled faintly of ash, dust, and aged stone. The silence felt heavier than it should have.

Her head... was resting on something warm.

She tilted her eyes upward.

Noah.

He sat against one of the chamber’s stone pillars, legs outstretched. His uniform was slightly torn, speckled with blood and dirt. One arm rested on his knee. The other...

...was cradling her.

His hand was in her hair.

Their eyes met.

He raised an eyebrow, calm as ever, and exhaled quietly through his nose.

"Oh," he said, casually. "You’re awake."

Saphielle stared at him, speechless.

Her heart pounded.

Her mind spun in a thousand directions—what she’d seen, what she’d felt, what she couldn’t unsee. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. Not yet.

Noah glanced down at her, studying her expression.

"You were out for a while," he added. "Not sure what you saw in there, but... your expression changed a few times. Grimacing. Crying. Smiling, once."

He looked away, awkwardly.

"...Weird."

Saphielle blinked again, throat dry.

"...It felt real," she whispered.

Noah didn’t reply.

Instead, he gently reached over and removed the artifact from her face—the plain glasses, now dim and inert. He set them beside him on the floor without comment.

Her head was still on his lap.

Neither of them moved.

The firelight flickered quietly across the stone.

"...Was that a memory?" she asked. "Or a vision of what could be?"

Noah didn’t answer.

But his eyes—deep crimson, sharp and quiet—told her that he wondered the same.

The silence lingered between them.

Noah didn’t look at her right away. He nodded, eyes still on the artifact.

"Not a memory. Not exactly," he said. "The Hollow Echo doesn’t show the past. Or the future. It shows what would happen... if you made a certain choice."

’I lied but with this she wouldn’t know that I reincarnated so it works, she might suspect something, but well, I’ll just deny it.’

She lowered her gaze.

"So... if I tried to revive my master..."

Noah’s voice cut in gently.

"The result would be the same. Chaos. Death. And you... hollow."

Saphielle’s lips parted, then closed again. She didn’t argue.

After a moment, she spoke again, even softer than before.

"I don’t want that to happen. I don’t want to become that... thing. The version of me I saw."

Noah glanced at her. "Then it sounds like you’ve made your choice."

She nodded slowly. "I won’t try to bring him back."

But then she paused.

Her voice trembled.

"...Still, I miss him. There are things I never got to say. Things I’ll carry forever if I don’t..."

Noah finally turned fully toward her, the Hollow Echo still in his hand.

"It can’t bring him back," he said plainly. "But... if you want—I can help you speak with him. Just once. Just for a moment."

Saphielle’s eyes widened slightly.

"Is that really possible?"

"Enough for your heart to rest," Noah said. "Just few words, a goodbye."

She didn’t answer immediately.

Her heart screamed yes, but her lips hesitated.

Noah didn’t pressure her.

He just waited.

And in that quiet moment, in the stillness of the ritual chamber, Saphielle no longer thought like a mage. Not like a scholar, or a genius, or an heir.

She thought like a girl.

A daughter.

One who just wanted a chance to say goodbye.