The mountain wind was cold on the descent—but not as cold as the silence waiting for them at camp.
Yui stepped over the ridge with Vera at her side, both worn from battle, their cloaks torn, their expressions unreadable. The others greeted them with cautious relief—Nyra, the quiet archer; Cain, the beast-tamer with a wary smirk; and Thorne, the grizzled healer who rarely spoke unless blood was spilling.
But Azarion wasn't there.
Not on the cliff where he usually waited. Not near the fire.
Yui frowned. "Where is he?"
"Storms moved through the western rift line," Thorne said, casting her a curious glance. "He went scouting alone. Said he'd be back by nightfall."
Yui nodded absently, hiding the tight coil forming in her stomach. Something felt… off. Like a page had been torn from the book mid-sentence.
She turned to Vera. "You should rest. I'll handle the report."
"Too tired to argue," Vera muttered, dropping beside the fire and closing her eyes.
Yui walked to the edge of camp and sat alone on a cold boulder, watching the horizon bleed into twilight. She could still feel the resonance in her fingers—the lingering hum of Draftkeeper's Will. The moment she'd stopped the Reaver hadn't just felt like a skill.
It had felt like command.
The kind a writer gives when pressing delete. A kind she shouldn't possess.
Her thoughts were interrupted by footsteps—slow, deliberate, heavy with presence.
Azarion.
He returned cloaked in shadows, blood on his gauntlets, his expression unreadable. He stopped in front of her, staring down in silence.
"Welcome back," Yui said quietly.
He didn't answer immediately. Just looked at her—then past her—like he was studying a different version of her layered atop the present one.
"You used something," he finally said. "Something new."
She nodded. "Draftkeeper's Will. It unlocked during the Reaver fight."
His jaw clenched.
"That skill… shouldn't exist."
Yui blinked. "What do you mean?"
Azarion stepped forward, and for the first time since their bond deepened, Yui saw not warmth or protectiveness—but fear.
Not for himself.
For her.
"There were fragments—sealed long ago. Powers that blur the line between author and god. You shouldn't have accessed that. Not without cost."
Her breath hitched. "The system gave it to me. I didn't choose it."
"That system was made to support you," he growled. "But some skills are echoes from before. From your original self. The Editors erased them for a reason."
Yui stood. "Then why are they coming back now?"
Azarion didn't answer.
Instead, he raised his clawed hand and placed it gently over her heart. "Because your soul is remembering. And the world… is responding."
> [System Notification]
Emotional bond deepened: Azarion → Yui
Trust threshold crossed.
Unlocking [Shared Memory Thread]: 1 of 3
Would you like to initiate the Memory Thread?
She stared at the prompt, stunned.
"…What is this?" she whispered.
Azarion's voice lowered to a hush. "A memory we shared before the fall of your last story. One I thought lost. If you unlock it now… you may not like what you find."
Yui's finger trembled over the system's YES prompt.
But she nodded.
"Yes."
The world around her blurred.
The firelight faded.
And then—
She remembered.
A throne room.
A crown of black flame.
Azarion kneeling before her, chained—not as a captor, but as a protector.
"Don't let them erase it," her past self whispered. "Not this time. Not us."
Her eyes snapped open.
The memory was fragmentary, hazy—but real.
Azarion met her gaze, more solemn than ever. "You were more than a writer. You were the Warden of Echoes. The one who made this world… and the one who swore to protect its right to be free."
Yui staggered back. "But I was human…"
"You were something else before that," Azarion whispered. "And now, you're waking up again."