Chapter 48: The Man Who Remembered Wrong
The fires in Redhollow had gone out.
Not in destruction—but in peace.
Villagers whispered their names into carvings again. Children repeated stories their parents barely remembered. On the hill outside the village, the silver-threaded light of the memory seed still pulsed faintly beneath the roots of an old tree.
Elric sat near it, journal open, staring at the horizon.
Behind him, footsteps approached.
Sylas.
He didn't say anything at first—just crouched near the edge of the hill and ran a scalpel between his fingers like a coin.
Elric finally spoke. "You've been quiet."
"I usually am," Sylas replied. "But something about this place makes it worse."
Elric looked over. "Because of the memory sickness?"
Sylas's fingers paused.