Page 167 of She Who Holds My Wrath

“You have to forget.”

He frowned. “Forget what?”

But she was already pulling away from the moment, forcing a smile back onto her face.

“Race you to the water gardens!”

And then they were running again.

Their parents watched from the balcony above. Their mother’s fingers trembled where they clutched the railing.

“She grows stronger.”

His father did not reply immediately.

Below, their daughter skipped effortlessly across the mirrored surface of the reflecting pools, not sinking, not disturbing the water at all. The elements listened to her. Everything bent towards her. Always towards her.

“They will feel it soon,” his mother whispered.

“They already do,” his father said quietly.

“What will we do when they come?” she asked.

His father closed his eyes. “We will not let them take her easily.”

But even as he said it, both of them knew the truth. That when the gods called… no one refused.

Later, Aran found her curled beneath the halo-tree. Its vast, luminous branches arched overhead, cascading strands of soft radiance around her like a curtain. She was crying.

He sat beside her immediately. “Who hurt you?”

“No one.”

“Then why are you sad?”

She wiped her cheeks, angrily brushing away the stray tears. “I don’t want to go.”

A chill brushed the back of his neck. “Go where?”

She shook her head. “I’m not supposed to tell.”

He nudged her shoulder. “You can tell me anything.”

For a long moment, she said nothing. Then she leaned into him, small fingers gripping the fabric of his sleeve.

“Promise you won’t forget me.”

The words struck something deep and inexplicable inside him.

“Forget you? Impossible.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

She studied his face as if memorising it. Then she smiled. And the world seemed brighter for it.

She vanished three nights later. No sound, no struggle, no trace. One moment she slept beneath the woven starlight… The next morning, her bed was empty.