Keiser had always believed the past he carried was real.

It was one thing to remember your past while under someone else' head, but it was another to realize that those memories weren't true to begin with.

Keiser had believed the dragon in his mind had been rescued from poachers. That the one thing he had done right, out of all the blood and ruin, was that small act of mercy.

But now, under the lingering haze of someone else's mind, that memory felt wrong.

Different from what he is now just remembered.

'The dragon had been just a hatchling, had it?'

In his memories, he'd handed the dragon over to Gideon after saving it from the poachers. That was the false truth, he had given it to Gideon, but what he remembered was wrong.

In his mind, the dragon had already been grown, the same size as when he'd passed it on. But in reality, it had been a hatchling when they met.

He was the one who'd brought it to the capital, the one who sealed its fate.

Gideon had indeed received it from him, but Keiser's memory stopped there, at the convenient version he'd remember.

The realization settled like ice under his skin.

If that memory was false, then what else wasn't real?

How many of his truths had been changed?

When his eyes fluttered open, for a fleeting second he thought he was still inside that dream, or the past. But all he could see was dust. All he could smell was smoke. His throat burned, and a rough cough tore out of him, breaking the silence that pressed against his ears.

He thought maybe he was still on the battlefield, the border war, the endless smoke, the scent of charred flesh and iron. His body even felt the same, heavy, torn, aching in the same old wounds.

But when he blinked again, the truth struck.

The open already lighting up sky stretched above him, clear, distant, mocking. The ceiling that once covered the hall was gone. The building had caved in completely. Around him, only jagged debris, twisted steel, and shattered stone.

Keiser braced his palms against the rubble and pushed himself up, every movement sending tremors through his arms. His armor scraped against the wreckage, leaving streaks of blood where the edges bit into his already bleeding palm.

The air was sharp and dry. Too quiet.

He looked around, expecting to see someone, anyone, but there was nothing. Only broken walls and smoke curling up into the daybreak.

It was then he realized something was wrong with the way his body stood. He was above the debris. On the surface. Not buried beneath it.

If the entire structure had collapsed, and he had been in the undercroft, then by all logic, he should have been crushed under tons of stone.

So why was he standing here, breathing open air? Why wasn't he dead?

His pulse hammered in his ears, matching the faint ringing still echoing through his head. A cold wind swept through the ruins, carrying the smell of something faintly… of blood.

Keiser stared at his hands. The wounds, the soot, the faint shimmer of burned mana clinging to his skin.

He didn't know what part of this was memory anymore.

Or whose.

"Oh good, you're awake…"

The voice was too close, low, smooth, and horribly familiar.

Keiser flinched before his mind could even process the words. His body moved on instinct, muscles tensing, boots grinding against the broken stone as he staggered upright into a defensive stance.

His instincts screamed 'enemy,' but when his hand reached for a weapon, he realized there was nothing.

His dagger was gone. Even his bandages had come undone, hanging in loose, blood-stiff tatters around his arms. He froze, forcing his eyes to focus through the haze of dust and pain.

Someone was sitting casually atop a bent sheet of metal jutting from the wreckage. Long limbs draped loosely, green hair catching the daybreak sky, the elven looked almost at ease amid the devastation.

His hand dangled lazily over the edge, and from that hand hung another figure, by the back of the neck. It took Keiser a second to recognize the limp form.

"Genevra…" he rasped, voice breaking on the name.

The elven glanced down at him, green eyes sharp and bright even through the dust. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't wake up," they spoke in a lazy drawl, barely containing their excitement for the prospect.

Keiser tried to speak again, to demand answers, but the moment he opened his mouth, his lungs seized. A harsh cough wracked his entire frame, bending him double. He fell to one knee, hacking, choking on smoke and the metallic taste that flooded his throat.

Then the pain hit, a tidal wave that drowned everything else.

His body spasmed as every nerve screamed awake. The dull numbness that had cloaked him before was gone, now every cut, every burn, every inch of skin branded with sigils flared like molten iron, as though they'd been freshly carved.

"Arrghh---!"

He couldn't even form words, just a guttural cry as he pressed his body against the ground, the pain in his palms sending fresh sparks of agony through his arms. His body was trembling, smoke curling faintly from his skin.

The elven tilted their head, watching with idle curiosity. "Hm. I did warn you that your body wouldn't hold up long under that kind of strain." They smiled faintly. "But Aurex spawns always were stubborn."

Keiser forced his head up, teeth grit, breath coming in shallow gasps. "What… are you doing here…?"

The elven only chuckled, tightening their grip on Mr. Genevra's collar just enough for the unconscious man to stir weakly. The sound of it, soft, mocking, echoed faintly in the hollow ruins.

The elven huffed, amusement curling in the sound. "Oh, dear, deals with an elf always costs you," they said, voice silk and mocking. "But you paid your side of the bargain, so I honored mine. Even if you were rather demanding with your part."

They vaulted down from the bent metal with the casual grace of someone who'd never worried about broken bone or burned flesh. Mr. Genevra slumped off the scrap of sheet metal and landed in a heap on a bed of jagged rock. For a moment he lay still, chest rising shallow and unsteady.

Keiser ground his teeth against the pain. "Are they all alive?" he rasped.

The elf scoffed, flicking a loose strand of green hair from their face as they shifted into a more neutral, androgynous guise. "Of course. Unconscious, yes, sedated and put somewhere safe. For now." Their smile sharpened. "Somewhere I like."

Keiser's eyes narrowed. His head throbbed, the sigils on his body burned like fresh brandings, but he pushed the pain aside. "You kept your end, then?" he asked. He needed facts, not riddles.

The elven counted off on their fingers, as if ticking the demands off from a list.

"Returned the halfling's blood pendant, check. Warned your rude vassal of his imminent demise, been there done that. Recovered the dragon's heart you wanted, found it an hour after you were actually digging around for something or someone else." They grinned, delighted at the memory.

"You showed me something interesting, little prince. And a little morsel of court gossip the nobility would pay dearly for. I could sell it, but where's the fun in that? I'll keep it and watch the spectacle unfold."

The words should have grated, instead, Keiser felt a cold knot tighten in his gut. "What do you mean, kept?" he said. "And you forgot another thing."

The elven's grin flickered into something darker. "Forgot? No, I didn't forget." A hush fell for the span of a breath, then a soft, mocking laugh. "But you were so entertaining, I had to pick and choose what to do first."

Blood crawled at the edge of Keiser's vision, he hissed. "Just go meet her. Stop playing with faces and disguises, Althira."

The name snapped the field taut. The elven's relaxed, mocking expression hardened. Their features sharpened, more feminine now, eyes colder, lips thinning. The air between them tightened.

"Don't call an elven by its true name, boy," she warned, voice low and dangerous. "Use it again and I'll put more curses to you."

She leaned in, so close Keiser could see the green light in the irises and the way her jaw clenched like a promise. The amusement was gone. Only something fury and pain remained.

Keiser tasted metal in his mouth and straightened, every bruise, cuts and burn humming like a bell. Dust drifted from the ruined rafters. The world felt fragile and thin, and the elven's threat hung between them.

Keiser waved a hand dismissively, though it trembled as he took another unsteady stand over the fractured stone. His legs ached, every muscle screaming rebellion, but he forced himself upright. Through the haze of dust, he spotted movement, a figure stirring in the corner, coughing weakly.

"Meet your daughter, miss," Keiser said lightly, voice lilting with the kind of tired amusement. "I included that in our bargain. The deal should hold, it'll work even against the restraints laid on you."

His tone softened at the end and Keiser's eyes flicked toward her in time to see Althira exhale, expression slipping from smug to subdued. The faint glow that shimmered across her green hair dimmed. She gestured lazily toward Mr. Genevra.

"How about this one," she continued, "you told me to keep an eye on him, to keep him safe until everyone was clear of the building at midnight sharp. So here he is, safe and breathing, just as you asked." Her gaze sharpened, curious now. "Though I do wonder… what exactly are you planning for him?"

Keiser's lips curved despite the pain clawing at his ribs. His throat felt raw, the air heavy with dust and the bitter sting of mana still hanging on his body. "What else?" he rasped, voice rough but steady.

"He'll be accountable for everything. You can arrange that, right?"

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