Chapter 8%
The crimson iron gate. The gray stone archway. Ancient trees stood tall, their dense foliage casting long silhouettes. A censer burned with an unknown herb, filling the yard with the scent of time itself–of things past, of things lost. The cool night air carried the faintest whisper of something forgotten, something just beyond reach.
I stood at the center of the yard, looking around. My fingers brushed against the rough stone wall, tracing the cracks that had weathered the ages.
“I… I feel like I’ve been here before.“”
The sorcerer walked beside me, silent. Instead of answering, he reached out and slowly pushed open an intricately carved, heavy wooden door. It groaned under its weight, revealing a dimly lit chamber beyond.”
Inside, portraits, old belongings, hairpins and shoes—carefully arranged, as if time had never touched them. A soft layer of dust clung to the air, stirred by our presence.
“In your past life, this is where you loved to sit,” he said, his voice low and steady.
My heart clenched. Yet still, I shook my head, resisting the pull of familiarity.
“I don’t remember.“}
“Maybe you’re just not meant to,” he replied.”
Then, suddenly, the sorcerer turned to me and pressed his fingers against my forehead. A cool wave of energy seeped into my body. Gentle. Completely unforced. It was unlike any magic I had ever felt before.”
I flinched. “What are you doing?“”
His voice was soft. “Extending your life.“}
The next second, a blood–red sigil ignited in his palm. The air crackled with power as ancient symbols swirled between us–a spell that traded one life for another.
My breath stilled. “You’re insane-!”
Before I could finish, his energy vanished from his palm. His entire being, once overflowing with power, collapsed into sudden weakness.
In an instant, his black hair turned white. His shoulders sagged ever so slightly. He exhaled, then smiled faintly, as if nothing had happened.
“I’ve given you fifty more years. Is that enough?“}
I stood there, frozen. The weight of his words pressed against me like an immovable force. He had truly exchanged his life–for mine.<
I stared at his now–aged face. A strange, dull ache spread through my chest, something tight and unfamiliar. “Why… would you do this?“”
The sorcerer looked at the portraits on the wall, his gaze impossibly gentle. His fingers, now slightly trembling, brushed against the frame of a long–forgotten painting.”
“If you die,” he murmured, “then this life of mine… would have been for nothing. Don’t worry, I won’t let you regain your memories.”
I stiffened. Why not?”
He turned his head, finally looking at me. Something long–repressed burned in his eyes–madness and sorrow intertwined. The weight of centuries lingered there, heavy and relentless.[
“Because I’m old now. Ugly now. Dying now. And even if you do remember, I don’t want you to see me like this.”
His voice dropped lower, almost like a whisper of confession. “I’d rather you see me as a stranger… than recall me in this state and feel nothing but slight grief.”
The words struck me harder than I expected. I fell silent. Slowly, I stepped forward and sat down beside him. My voice softened, threading through the quiet.
“Then tell me your story. Tell me about her and how it all began.“}
The sorcerer froze. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. Then, finally, he nodded. He lowered himself onto the wooden bench, his posture relaxed, but his fingers still gripping the edges of his sleeves as if steadying himself.”
“It was a snowy night.“”
His voice carried the weight of nostalgia. It was deep, steady, filled with an aching kind of warmth.
“She was being chased by vagrants and fled into my manor. Her clothes were torn, her face stubborn. She pointed at me and said–try touching me. I dare you. Just try.”
I couldn’t help it–I let out a small laugh. There was something undeniably familiar about that kind of reckless defiance.” The sorcerer continued, his lips curling up faintly, lost in the memory. “Of course, I didn’t touch her.“”
“That night I made her a bowl of soun She ate until she was drenched in sweat then promntly threw un all over me” Chapter 8
4:29 PM 9པ་ས་ ་པ་་་་་་སཅས ་་་པ ་་་པ པས་་་་་ པ་ ་ས་་་་་ད་ ་པས་ ་་་ ་་་༦་་་ས་་་པ་ད
པ་ ཅལས་པ་ ་ པ་པ་་་ ལས་་་་་ ས
“That night, I made her a bowl of soup. She ate until she was drenched in sweat… then promptly threw up all over me.“”
His voice was even, but I caught the barest hint of amusement in it.”
“She told me my cooking was so bad that I deserved to die alone.“}
A breath of laughter escaped me. “She actually said that?“#
His expression softened further, the lines on his face deepening. “That was the moment I knew. I’d never be rid of her.“%
He kept speaking, slowly, piece by piece, as if unspooling the thread of time itself. And I listened. I listened to every word, every pause, every unspoken emotion laced between them.
Outside, the wind stirred the barren branches. The lingering scent of herbs curled through the air, carrying whispers of something lost yet waiting to be found.
Somewhere along the way, my eyes grew slightly damp. But I didn’t cry. I only thought–so someone really had loved me like this. Even if I didn’t remember. Even if I had been reborn. Even if I was no longer her.”
The sorcerer’s voice remained steady, like he was laying himself bare.”
“We loved each other, once. She was reckless, bold and utterly defiant–nothing like a proper lady. She fought, drank wine, skipped lessons… but I loved her for it.“”
“Back then, I thought, she would always stay by my side.“”
He paused. His gaze drifted toward the yard, where fallen petals lay scattered like old memories. The silence between us stretched, heavy with something unsaid.”
“Until the day she misunderstood and thought I had betrayed her with another.“}
Chapter 8
