CHAPTER FOUR: THE WEIGHT OF RETURN (Part three)
The key flickered once in the low windowlight, silver catching on silver.
Zephryn lowered it slowly, turning it over in his palm.
It didn't glow.
It didn't react.
But it remembered.
And so did he.
He crossed the room and knelt by the small lockbox beneath his bed—the one untouched since before the fire.
No scorch marks. No visible damage.
Just weight.
The moment the key slid in, something in the air changed.
The pendant around his neck twitched.
Bubbalor's eyes narrowed, soft glow pulsing in rhythm.
Kaelen stepped forward.
"Wait—are you sure?"
Zephryn paused.
"No."
Click.
The box opened with no sound.
No rush of wind.
No trapped light.
Just stillness.
Inside: a folded cloth, blue and white.
Threadbare. Frayed at the edges.
Solara's scarf—kept hidden during his absence.
Underneath it: a small memory stone.
Selka crossed the room without a word. She stopped beside him, kneeling silently.
Kaelen and Yolti followed—closer now than they had been since the night everything broke.
Zephryn touched the stone.
It felt cold. Then warm.
Then familiar.
When he pressed his thumb into the center, it didn't project an image.
It played a voice.
"If he ever comes back broken… remind him who named the flame."
Solara's voice. Soft. Worn. Full of knowing.
None of them moved.
The memory stone dimmed.
It had no more to give.
Zephryn closed the box and stood slowly.
The scarf, folded, now sat atop the desk.
The key he placed beside it.
He didn't say anything.
Didn't cry.
Didn't reach for it.
But his pulse mark shimmered faintly beneath his sleeve.
Not flaring.
Just awake.
Selka watched him. Still silent.
Then she stepped forward.
And with slow, careful hands—she lifted the scarf.
Wrapped it gently around Zephryn's shoulders.
"I remember."
That was all.
And for a second,
he did too.