Page 54 of Unveiled

Connor exhaled slowly. “Then why can we remember?”

“Because you aren’t outsiders.”

“Feels like it.”

Xiathen didn’t react. “You’re bound to the land by stewardship and protection. The village recognises that. So does the ground beneath it.”

Connor grimaced at the phrasing but didn’t disagree.

“And the Gauthiers?” Max asked.

Xiathen didn’t hesitate. “Because Adrian Gauthier is also a Valour. Because the binding is already weaving your clans closer than either of you planned.”

Connor felt a familiar tightening under his ribs at the sound of Adrian’s name. He hated that his body answered before his thoughts did.

“So strangers remember while they’re here,” Max said.

“Yes.”

“And forget when they leave.”

“Yes.”

“But not in a way they can explain,” Connor said.

“Not in a way that can be weaponised,” Xiathen agreed.

Connor stared at the ribbons tied to the well, fluttering like surrender flags. “And if someone stays?”

Xiathen’s fingers tightened on the stone. “Then they begin to belong.”

Laird’s eyes widened. “So they’d remember.”

“Yes.”

“And if they try to leave after that?”

Xiathen’s calm finally cracked slightly. “The forgetting becomes less kind.”

“A trap,” Connor said flatly.

“A sanctuary with rules,” Xiathen replied. “Like your own strongholds. Protection always has teeth.”

Connor said nothing. He knew it was true.

“So they’re safe while they’re here,” Laird murmured.

“Safer than they were outside,” Xiathen said.

Connor hardened. “And if the Council comes?”

Xiathen met his gaze. “Then forgetting won’t save us. That’s why Valours matter. Because sanctuary only holds while someone stands for it.”

Connor felt anger rise. Not because he didn’t understand, but because he did. “And if we refuse?” Max asked.

Xiathen looked up at the sky, where clouds were gathering again. “Then the village will remain. And the Council will still come.” Xiathen looked back at Connor. “The only question is whether you’ll still be standing when they do.”

Connor turned away before his expression betrayed the decision forming in him. “Come on,” he said roughly. “We’re done here.”