Rain tapped softly on the wooden balcony. Ardyn stood frozen, staring at the girl in front of him. She looked about sixteen—soaked, pale, and holding a glowing sword that looked like it belonged in a dream.
The blade shimmered like starlight, humming with a low, strange sound. Runes moved across its surface like they were alive. It didn't look like any sword he'd ever seen. It didn't look made. It looked born.
"You're not my sister," Ardyn said quietly.
"I am," the girl answered. "You just don't remember me yet."
He narrowed his eyes. "That's not how memory works."
"No," she said, stepping closer, "but it is how they work."
She reached into her cloak and handed him something small. Cold. A pendant, shaped like a feather, half-melted and broken.
He took it.
His heart stopped.
This... He knew this. The weight, the shape, even the break in the chain. He had seen it in his dreams. Felt it in the nightmares. It was real.
"I gave that to you," she said. "Right before the sky fell. You told me to run. You stayed behind."
Ardyn's grip tightened on the pendant.
"I don't understand."
"You don't have to. Not yet," she said. "But someone else remembers. And they're waiting."
She turned, walked to the balcony rail, and jumped.
He didn't follow.
Not right away.
Instead, he stared up at the clouded sky.
No stars. No answers.
Only questions, and a memory that had begun to stir.