Tethys stood in front of Lilieth. The room they were in was run-down, barely holding itself together as the stench of old wood permeated the air. It was dimly lit by a single candle.

  “This can’t go on, Markosh!” she yelled at the drunken man half-splayed on the table. A nearly empty bottle was in his hand right next to several emptied ones. His entire face was red, and he could barely keep his head up.

  Lilieth took a hesitant step forward. The floorboards creaked softly with each step she took despite her not really being there. Tethys slammed her palm down, and the bottles toppled in sync with the flickering candle flame.

  “You promised this would stop,” she said, her voice trembling between fury and exhaustion. “It’s already been a week since you lost your job. You said you’d find work three days ago.”

  Markosh let out a harsh, humorless laugh as he knocked the bottle he was holding against the table. “Yeah, sure—plenty o’ that lyin’ around.” His voice slurred. “You think I haven’t tried, Teth?”

  “You ask one foreman. One. And when he says no, you come home and ... this!” she gestured at all the bottles, rigidity in her movements from the pent up anger.

  Markosh squinted at her, as if his mind was taking time to catch up. “The hells am I supposed to do? If I don’t drink, I’ll break. It’s just for tonight, love. This is the last time, I promise ...”

  “Every night is ‘just for tonight’ with you. Heavens’ sakes, you sold my mother’s bracelet, Markosh. Without telling me!”

  He shrugged. “It was just sittin’ there. Rent was due.”

  Lilieth felt a sharp twist in her chest watching the scene unfold. She could feel every emotion in the room—from both people.

  “Pathetic, right?”

  Lilieth turned to her side. A more subdued version of Markosh stood beside her, watching the scene with solemn eyes. He didn’t have that air of roughness he always had about him. There was a peace to his demeanor that felt almost out of place. “Back then, I could count the days I was sober on one bloody hand. Made things ... harder to remember for me.”

  “What is this?” Lilieth asked. “Where am I?”

  “Yer in a memory. Where else would ya be?”

  She shook her head. “No, when I see memories, I see them from the perspective of the person who owns the memories, not like ... this.”

  Markosh scoffed. “You could if you wanted to, but I reckon yer losin’ control over yer head. Only reason I’m here like this is because o’ that. Or maybe it’s ‘cause you only held Teth’s hand for that brief moment, didn’t get enough time to gather all those memories—hard to say. Sometimes, the mind remembers things it shouldn’t, vague impressions of what everythin’ around them looked like. Teth couldn’t see behind her, but she already knew what the room looked like. Head fills in the blanks; lets you see a bird’s eye view of it all in hindsight.”

  Lilieth looked at Markosh. “How do you know all this?”

  He shrugged. “We’re in yer head. You tell me.”

  The sound of footsteps dragged Lilieth’s attention back to the unfolding memory. Tethys had rounded the table and was now directly beside Memory-Markosh.

  “Winter is coming, Markosh. Irene’s starting to get sick again. If we can’t even pay this month’s rent, what are we going to do?”

  The drunken man was silent for a moment. “It’ll ... be fine. I’ll ... I’ll find a way. I always do.”

  Tethys’ face warped into an amalgamation of disbelief and resentment. “You don’t hear me anymore. You don’t hear anything anymore. You never listen ...”

  She took a few heavy steps back then turned and walked into the adjoining room. Suddenly, Lilieth was in that room as well, shrouded in darkness, but she could tell that it was a bedroom. Irene was laid down, groggily getting up and wiping her eyes. “Mom?”

  Tethys grabbed a bag and packed as many of their clothes as she could fit in it. “Get dressed, honey. We’re going somewhere.”

  Irene was confused, but she followed without further questions. Perhaps she could sense the tension in Tethys’ voice and knew it was serious. She was still so young, but she was so perceptive.

  “Teth?” Memory-Markosh’s voice called out, muffled by the walls. Tethys didn’t respond.

  Once the bag was readied, she grabbed Irene’s hand and walked past Memory-Markosh who had turned his head up and watched them leave out the door.

  “Wait ... wait, Teth,” he yelled, his voice weak yet desperate. “No. Don’t. Let’s talk about this!”

  “I have been talking, Markosh,” Tethys replied, not turning back. Her voice was shaking. She could hear the clattering of bottles behind her as they rolled to the ground. A chair had fallen over.

  “Teth ... Tethys!” His voice rang out in the night, a final spear in Tethys’ heart.

  Lilieth and Markosh watched as the woman continued on. Irene followed without much of a fuss, but she did turn to look back. There was worry in her eyes.

  “I wonder what she thought of me,” Markosh said with a somber voice, so much softer than the harsh tone Lilieth always heard him talk with. “Irene, I mean. She was always so ... quiet. Never could tell what she was thinkin’. Do you think she was disappointed with me?”

  “... I think she understood.” That was all Lilieth responded with.

  “I could see that. Smart kid, her. Smarter than her pa, for sure.” Markosh’s eyes softened even further as he watched Tethys leave. “She sent me a letter after this, you know? The only one she ever sent—a formal goodbye. I kept it with me—last thing I had from her. The day I lost it, I felt like I’d died. Hells, I was a dead man walking ever since then.”

  Lilieth clenched her fist, though she didn’t look at him just yet. “Why are you in my head?”

  “Memories—they make a person,” he replied. “Everythin’ we say or do is cuz of what’s in our noggins. You’ve got all my memories in here, so it makes sense that some part of you would take the shape of me.”

  “So, what? I’m just talking to myself now?”

  Markosh let out a snide chuckle. “Yer an idiot if ya think you haven’t gone insane yet. ‘Sides, doesn’t matter. You and me? Peas in a bloody pod.”

  She frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Markosh turned to the rented house they were in. Inside, Memory-Markosh was sprawled on the ground, struggling to stand back up and run after Tethys and Irene. “I was a pathetic failure. After this, I got a Blessing and worked to turn my life ‘round. But even then, it all fell back to the shitter. Blessings or no, didn’t make much of a difference. I was a failure back then, and I died a failure, too. Dead people don’t change. A failure’s all I’ll ever be now. It’ll be the same with you. Yer workin’ to change yerself. You learn to throw a punch, to not hide behind someone else ever again. But it’s all pointless. You died a coward. You’ll stay that way.”

  Lilieth turned to him. “I—”

  He was gone.

  She turned around, and even Tethys and Irene were nowhere to be seen. She was alone on an empty street.

  Her feet sank into the ground. Below her, the earth was shifting ... no, everything around her was shifting. The roads, the street lamps, the buildings, even the gradient night sky itself was morphing, like ink in water. It felt hard to breathe, as if even the air itself was turning into something her body could not understand. She felt like she was sinking into someplace wrong—a terrifying, violent place. She could hear a grating noise, as if she was hearing everything in existence all at once, a cacophony of vibrations.

  Lilieth closed her eyes, wishing she was somewhere else. Let the memory end … I don’t want to be here anymore!

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  The world calmed down, and she could feel the breeze on her skin. The air she breathed in was cold and refreshing. She opened her eyes and found herself atop a pure white spire in Venatica, the Salcaelite grand capital.

  It was a familiar memory. She knew of it. She had lived it herself. But there was a wrongness to the scene before her that she couldn’t quite pin down.

  Then, she looked below, expecting to see the Salcaelite capital sprawled beneath her, the pure-white tapestry of buildings much larger than any Krysanthian megalopolis.

  Instead, she saw a torrent.

  It was as if the buildings themselves had melted and were swirling like a hurricane below her. She could hear a trillion voices, all speaking in disharmony, emanating from the torrent.

  She felt like vomiting just looking at it. She knew, instinctively, what it was: an amalgamation of memories. Layers upon layers of memories. Memories from people too many for her to count. A boiling soup of experiences, emotions, and thoughts that coagulated into something that went against the natural order of the world.

  If she fell into that torrent, her mind would be ripped apart. Even with an undying body, there was no coming back from that.

  “Y██ d█n’t ha██ to clin█ ██ me █o h█rd, █ou kn█w?”

  A voice invaded her ears—that grating noise that threatened to kill her. Memories she didn’t want to remember were worming their way into her head.

  “We’█e g███ing lef█ beh█nd ██ Oli███r and ██e ██hers, ██u kn██? █ c█n fl█ ██u u█ if ██u wa██. I█’l█ be ██n!”

  “Stop it ... stop!” Lilieth yelled out as loudly as she could in hopes she could drown out the voice.

  “W██t █re yo█ so ██rai█ o█? █’m ███ht he██!”

  She covered her ears, closed her eyes, and curled her knees up into her chest. She pressed her back against the spire wall so hard wishing she would meld into it.

  “██u w██’t fa█l, L██i.”

  “Stop ... please ...”

  “A██ e██n █f you █o, I’ll ███ays b█ t█er█ ██ c██ch you.”

  She couldn’t stop the tears from escaping her eyes—even though she worked so hard to never have to cry again. Markosh was right.

  “S█e? ██’s n██ as s█ar█ a█ y██ t██nk.”

  After some time, she released her ears, and her arms slumped to the side uselessly. The voices wouldn’t stop. The pain wouldn’t stop. Nothing she did changed anything.

  She felt like there was something she needed to do—something she needed to say—but she couldn’t reach it. If she wanted to reach it, there was a wall she needed to climb: a tall, insurmountable wall that her weak arms would never withstand.

  Lilieth Lasvenn was not someone who could climb walls like those. In Hesperus, she could only pray to a goddess, offering her the other villagers’ wishes and none of her own. After joining Verlaine and the others, she could only watch as they did all the work. After arriving in Artemest, she still could only put on a brave face and declare that she was trying, all while running away.

  I can change myself.

  Words like those were just like a prayer: empty, meaningless, and falling on deaf ears. A nonsensical self-suggestion that only served to set the bar too high.

  Walls do not vanish when they are acknowledged, nor do they soften or break. All they did was serve to crush her spirit even further, as if mocking her for even trying.

  What was even the point then?

  Lilieth stood up and walked to the edge of the stairway. She peered down towards that destructive torrent.

  “...”

  Maybe it was time to set things back on the correct path, to make things right again. Perhaps she was supposed to die in that cave after all.

  She did not know why she came back—why she was brought back—but she didn’t care. She was so, so tired. Lilieth forced her body forward one step ...

  A hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. Suddenly, a voice caressed her ear.

  “—You already know which words to say.”

  Lilieth awoke with a jolt, sweat covering her entire body. She found herself in a small room surrounded by people all lying in makeshift beds too thin to be comfortable. Many of them had injuries of various natures. The young mage inspected her own body—a fresh change of clothes and no wounds.

  The last thing she remembered before passing out was ...

  “Teth!”

  She immediately jumped from bed and scrambled out of the room through a doorway with beaded curtains. Exiting, she almost bumped into Niko carrying a tray of bandages and bottles.

  “Miss Lilieth! You’re awake!” he said. “Thank Tulphana. You were sweating and groaning in your sleep. It’s a good thing that—”

  “Where’s Tethys?” She grabbed Niko’s wrists, nearly sending the tray to the floor. He laid it down on a nearby table. “Tethys, she ... I, I couldn’t—”

  “Relax. Deep breaths. She’s alright.”

  Lilieth blinked. “She’s ... okay?”

  “Albus told me what happened,” Niko said. “It must’ve been rough on you, but you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. What matters is that she’s safe now.”

  “Where is she?”

  “SilverRose Clinic—receiving the best medical care she can get. You’re free to visit her anytime you’d like.”

  When he said that, Lilieth felt all the tension leave her body. She staggered back, leaning against a wall and letting out a deep breath. She thought that she’d failed and that she’d let Tethys die. She was afraid … just for a moment. The other times she received memories from someone else were only after they’d died. If she received Tethys’ and she was still alive, then their deaths must not have been the prerequisites she thought them to be.

  A weight, however, still hung in her heart. Tethys was fine, but she couldn’t help but blame herself for letting her get hurt as badly as she did.

  “I have to say, I was a bit skeptical when you told me about your ... condition,” Niko said. “But then, I saw you come back with my own eyes. Almost couldn’t believe it!” His voice was lowered. “Seeing your wounds stitch themselves back together? That was something. As a Healmage, it fascinates me.”

  Right. She died again. “How long was I ... out?”

  “A fairly long time,” he replied. “About twelve hours, give or take, according to Sibei. Be sure to thank her; she guarded your body the entire time!”

  Twelve hours. If she had to guess, based on the dates, her first revival took over a day. Was her revival speed getting faster and faster? There wasn’t enough data to make accurate estimates. Though she wasn’t willing to kill herself over and over again to test things out, it would probably do her good to track the speed every time it did happen.

  After a brief checkup in which Niko made sure she was genuinely alright, Lilieth left his clinic and began walking. The streets were a mess—broken windows, shattered pavements, blood covering the stones. Thankfully, most of it seemed to be wyvern blood. The people were hard at work, cleaning up and rebuilding. There was a gloom present on everyone’s faces, and those with smiles were clearly forcing them. It made sense. Many of them likely had loved ones who were injured or even killed during the attack.

  Eventually, her meandering walk took her to the center of the city, where the tall Greatbell stood proudly. The highest point in the city by a wide margin—the colossal structure loomed over her. Like all Greatbells, this one rang by itself, three times in the day and once at midnight, and every time it did, a rush of mana accompanied it. The city’s many functions, such as the streetlights and numerous household machines, relied upon the Greatbell to power them.

  They’d always been a point of interest for Lilieth. The Greatbells were ancient: far older than Krysanth itself. The megalopoleis were even allegedly built around them.

  She looked around. Artemest Square was a big place, the Bell of Return at the very middle of it. Beautifully sculpted statues of the twelve Greater Gods were arranged in a circle around the Greatbell, a podium in front of each one for speeches or assemblies, among other events. The largest among those podiums was the one in front of Jumel the Cultivation, “The First Father”. His statue depicted a hooded, bearded man with scars upon his arms.

  A gathering had formed there. A woman stood on the podium, relaying something to the crowd that surrounded her. Curious, Lilieth approached.

  The speaker was a Koya woman donned in travelers’ clothes. Her cat ears twitched about, and her tail swung with a quick, excited rhythm. From the words she was speaking, she seemed to be delivering news from across the nations: Shifting political situations in the north, with the nation of Farlan on the brink of war with the Shebu states, showing signs that it might betray the Nomen Union. The Holy Blizzard in Odunast had begun showing signs of getting stronger, leading to rumors that the Souverain of Snow had died, and that a new coronation ceremony would soon begin. The biggest of the elven nations, Eirsia, was still barring all contact from the outside world, as it had for a hundred years.

  The world was getting more and more turbulent day after day. The news did not do well to raise the people’s morale.

  Eventually, the speech shifted to the demonic front.

  “For nearly thirty years now, our lands have been at war with the demons of the infernal continent, Feralter,” the Koya woman said with a showman’s attitude. “My friends, as you doubtless may have heard, an archdemon has surfaced in the city of Valille. Our heroes have fought bravely time and time again to hold back the threat and keep us safe, yet the danger an archdemon poses cannot be truly verbalized. Rumors travel faster than I, despite my best efforts, so you may also already have heard that Verlaine of the Hundred Accolades has been sent to intercept the archdemon.”

  Lilieth flinched.

  “Surely a suicide charge—as strong as he is, he is only of the Third tier. Many have expressed concern for Olivier Verlaine and his party, especially after they’ve recently lost two of their own mere days prior. Many have already gone as far as to assume the worst.”

  The faces around her fell into a melancholy mood.

  The speaker smiled. “By your faces, it seems that, for once, I have traveled faster than the rumors! Raise your heads high, friends, for Olivier Verlaine has achieved the impossible! After a grueling and hard-fought battle, they have triumphed over the archdemon!”

  Everyone looked up in shock—Lilieth most of all.

  “You’ve heard me right! The Hundred Accolades’ party, with their legendary blades, have successfully defeated an archdemon! They sing their names in every tavern in Salcaeli: The Bladechosen! With their strength protecting us, the world shall enter an unprecedented era of peace!”

  Cheers roared from the crowd, and the melancholy that suffused them was gone in an instant. Smiles on their faces, tears upon their eyes—the idea of a shining, perfect hero was enough to bring hope to their hearts.

  Lilieth felt numb.

  Her stomach churned hearing everyone praise those murderers. Those thieves. Those traitors.

  And worst of all, Lilieth hated how she never once doubted that they’d be able to do it. Not once since the betrayal did the thought of the archdemon killing them ever enter her mind. Not once did she even find herself hoping it would happen, as if the mere idea was inconceivable.

  She hated how indomitable they were in her eyes, even now.

  Lilieth turned and started marching back to Spearman’s forest. She remembered what she had set out to do, and standing around wasn’t going to get her any closer to that goal.

  I can change myself.

  The words were just like a prayer—empty, meaningless, and falling on deaf ears. A nonsensical self-suggestion that only served to set the bar too high.

  But she had been a priestess once, one who had offered to a goddess the wishes of a village—but never her own.

  I will kill them with my own hands.

  That would be her first.