Raen didn't sleep that night—not that the Threadrift cared much for sleep. The concept of night here was vague, bent around memory and the will of things older than suns. Still, he tried.
Ashveil stood watch by the broken archway, antlers gently radiating emberlight. Keir snored half-curled on a floating piece of masonry, muttering in his dreams about "sword taxes" and "boredom revolutions."
Raen leaned against the edge of a sky-root, feeling the warmth of flame-creatures flicker near his veins.
Summoning beasts from memory. That kind of power… it felt wrong.
Or rather, it felt too right.
As if the world had been waiting for him to remember who he was—and hated him a little more for doing it.
"You ever feel like everything you gain just digs the hole deeper?" he asked quietly.
Ashveil turned his head slowly.
"All growth is erosion, in time. Even the forest forgets the roots that birthed it."
Raen snorted. "You're chatty for a deer."
"You're broody for a murderer."
Raen let the insult roll off. "You knew?"
Ashveil's emberheart pulsed gently.
"You named me. I remember as you do. Your sins, your scars. And… your kindness."
Raen didn't answer. He wasn't ready to believe that last one yet.
---
By morning—or what passed for it—they moved again.
Keir insisted on leading.
Raen allowed it, mostly to watch him trip over more imaginary traps.
"This next place," Keir said, pointing ahead dramatically, "is either a prison or a bakery. I can't read the glyph properly."
"It's upside down," Raen said flatly.
"Oh."
Keir turned the stone. "Ah. It says 'grave.' Definitely not bread, then."
Raen sighed. "What are we even doing here?"
"Looking for stories," Keir said brightly. "You're making one. I'm freeloading off it."
They reached a narrow corridor that twisted vertically, stairways climbing like ivy up nothing. Raen paused, sensing something coiled in the air.
"…You feel that?"
Keir nodded. "Like a whisper stuck in your throat."
Something shifted.
Raen's vision warped—memories overlapping, crowding into him like drunk ghosts.
Lyra.
Bleeding. Screaming. Laughing. Gone?
He stumbled.
Ashveil stepped between worlds and caught him.
"It is not the power that warps you, Raen Valor. It is the silence inside you."
Raen clenched his teeth. "Then help me fill it."
---
At the chamber's heart was a mirror.
No frame. Just floating, reflective air—bent like water and warpaint.
Raen approached cautiously. His reflection didn't move.
Keir whistled. "That's not creepy at all. Definitely not cursed. Not one bit."
Then the mirror breathed.
And the reflection stepped out.
Raen's blade was up instantly.
But the other Raen just stared.
No malice. No mimicry. Just… observation.
The copy spoke.
"I am what you buried. I am the one who killed without purpose, laughed without guilt, survived without asking why."
Raen lowered his sword slowly. "And?"
"And I remember everything."
A moment passed.
Then the reflection shattered into smoke—no violence, just release.
In its place was another creature—smaller than Ashveil. A fox. Its eyes were voids. Its tail flickered like candlefire.
It bowed.
Raen didn't speak its name aloud.
He remembered it.
Solace. The fox born from guilt buried under survival. From the first child he killed. From the apology never spoken.
It joined Ashveil at his side.
Another summon.
Another piece of himself given form.
Keir stared. "That's terrifying. And cute. I don't know whether to pet it or cry."
"Try both," Raen muttered.
---
They camped again that night beneath a floating bridge made of screams—actual screams, looped into crystal strands.
Keir strummed a broken lyre he found, badly.
Raen watched the flames flicker and the beasts doze.
"I never had a friend," Raen said quietly.
Keir stopped playing. "Still don't. I'm your sidekick. Big difference."
Raen snorted. "Right. Sorry."
Keir leaned back, looking at the drifting sky. "But yeah. I get it. I was groomed to inherit a throne that never wanted me. I got tutors, trainers, assassins… but no one who knew how to laugh with me."
Raen glanced over. "You're not so bad."
"You are," Keir said, grinning. "But you're getting better."
They sat in silence.
Eventually, Solace crawled into Raen's lap and curled up.
Raen didn't move it.
Didn't even try.
---
[LORD APPENDIX – Beastlog Continued]
Solace, the Emberfox
Born from regret buried under necessity, Solace is a quiet presence among Raen's summoned echoes. It manipulates memory fields, causes targeted illusions of emotion, and can traverse unseen dreampaths.
Where Ashveil is strength, Solace is subtlety.
---
Keir's Journal Entry [Unreadable by mortals]:
I think he's starting to laugh more. Not a lot. But it counts. The fox likes him. The stag respects him. I think, maybe, that means he's not entirely broken.
Maybe I picked the right story to hitch myself to.
Maybe we both did.
To be continued...