Page 46 of A Taste of Silver
"Good." I reached down and took his hand. His fingers were cold but solid, real. "Then it's a real promise. I'll save you, Silvyr. Best friends don't leave each other trapped."
The Garden itself seemed to inhale. The flowers brightened, the trees leaned in. A fundamental shift. A thread of silver light connected our joined hands.
"Aurea," Silvyr whispered, staring at the thread with awe and terror. "What did you do?"
"Made a promise." I squeezed his hand. "Want to see something amazing? I can make fire dance."
The memory released me gradually, like waking from a dream that wants to keep you. I sat back on my heels, gasping, feeling the weight of that childhood vow settling into my bones.
We had been so young. So certain that love and determination could overcome any obstacle. The innocence of it made my chest ache.
The fox rose, padding toward a different section of the Garden. His movements were urgent now, tail low, ears flat. Something about this area felt different. It was colder, darker, despite all the ambient silver light.
I followed him through an archway of twisted trees whose bark reflected nothing. Beyond lay a clearing where a single flower grew.
Black. Petals that seemed to devour light rather than emit it. The other flowers leaned away from it, as if repulsed by its presence.
Every instinct screamed at me to leave it alone. This wasn't my memory. I somehow knew it belonged to someone else, someone who had tried very hard to bury it.
But the fox sat beside it, fixing me with those too-intelligent eyes. Waiting.
My hand moved without conscious decision.
The black petals were soft as regret, cold as abandoned hope.
A room I didn't recognize, though it felt familiar. Stone walls were covered in charts, all depicting a human figure surrounded by binding circles, magical energy being systematically divided.
"She's too powerful." It was Vaen's voice, but older. He stood with his back to me, to whoever's memory this was, his silver hair long, loose past his shoulders. "If she completes the binding with the mirror entity, she'll either destroy herself or tear reality apart. Maybe both."
"Then we contain her." Another voice, older, feminine. "Separate her power into manageable fragments. Seal them away until she's old enough to handle them properly."
"You mean until she's broken enough not to try." Vaen turned. His eyes were mirrors, literally reflecting the room. "You want to cripple my sister."
"I want to save her." The woman stepped into view, a court mage, her robes marked with symbols that would later appear on Magister Drell's texts. "The prophecies are clear. A Mirrorwalker who binds with a cursed entity will either become a god or a monster. There is no middle path."
"She's a child."
"Which is why we must act now. Before her power fully manifests. Before she and the boy attempt something irreversible."
Vaen's hands clenched. "And if I refuse?"
"Taking her memories is messy. We need family blood to guide the ritual, or we could break her mind."
A long silence. Vaen's voice was hollow. "What do you need from me?"
"Your blood for the binding. Your presence during the extraction. Your silence afterward."
"She'll hate me if she ever remembers."
"She'll be alive to hate you. That's what matters."
Vaen moved to the table. He picked up a ritual knife with absolute self-loathing. "She can never know what we did. Promise me that much. Let her think it was natural, that she simply forgot."
"Agreed."
The memory flashed forward to the ritual. Vaen held a sleeping child-me. The mage worked.
Silver light was pulled from my small body, separated into glyphs, sealed away. I whimpered in my sleep. Vaen's tears fell on my face. He whispered, "I'm sorry, little star. I'm so sorry."
