Chapter Three: Where the First Once Stood
Part One – The Still Flame
The hum was gone.
Not broken.
Not silenced.
Just… resting.
Like something that had burned too long, and finally let itself sleep.
Zephryn opened his eyes slowly.
No glyph.
No pain.
Just breath—steady, uneven, real.
He didn't move. Didn't speak. The blanket felt heavier than it should've. Or maybe the weight wasn't on him at all.
It was on the room.
On the space where memory refused to leave.
—
Selka was sitting in the corner, back against the wall. Her sword leaned beside her, still sheathed, but her fingers never left the hilt.
She hadn't slept. He could tell.
He could feel her watching him before he turned.
"…how long?"
Her voice was hoarse.
"Three days," she whispered.
Zephryn blinked once.
Then twice.
"…I didn't dream this time."
Selka didn't answer.
She didn't have to.
The silence was the dream.
—
Bubbalor sat curled beneath the cot, no longer glowing, no longer chittering. Just a low vibration in his chest—a faint hum, like a song he used to know but couldn't remember the start of.
Zephryn reached down.
The creature leaned into his hand, quietly.
"I'm still here," Zephryn murmured.
Bubbalor didn't react.
He just hummed once—low, warm, sad.
—
Across the room, the window was cracked. Not broken—just weathered. Light spilled in like it was unsure whether it was allowed.
Selka finally stood.
She walked to the edge of the cot.
"You know what you did."
Zephryn nodded.
"I don't think it's gone. Just… hiding."
"No," Selka said. "It's remembering."
She placed the necklace into his hand again. Not dramatically. Not gently. Just… deliberately.
"The next time it flares, you need to be ready."
"I don't think I ever will be," Zephryn said softly.
Selka looked down at him.
And for the first time in days—maybe longer—her voice dropped to a whisper that didn't belong to the warrior.
"…Then let me be."
—
Outside, a soft scraping echoed once.
Metal against stone.
Buta was sharpening again.
But not for war.
For ritual.
Something slow. Something steady. Something that had to be remembered right.
He didn't look inside.
But when Zephryn's voice rose just above the cot frame, Buta paused.
"Do you believe me?" Zephryn asked the air.
Selka didn't hesitate.
"I saw it."
Zephryn breathed out.
Not relief.
Just… the stillness that comes when you're no longer alone in what you survived.