Between Memory and Moonlight

Written by StillnessandSilence

"The Threads of time and love are delicately woven into the Great Tapestry of Fate. With my hands alone, I have safeguarded what the gods would not- Love."
— Zephiriel, Threadbinder of Fate

The Echo of Her Name

Part 1

Kaelan Deymir

Time in the Under-Sanctuary moved slowly. Six years had passed since Kaelan had placed Elara within a new body and sent her back to the mortal realm. He had dreamt of her dark hair, of the fleeting warmth he had only known for a moment. Those memories haunted him in his moments of silence, lingering like a ghost at the edges of his mind. He often wondered if he would only see her again when it was time to collect her soul once more.

The halls of the Black Reliquary were as quiet as ever. Life did not exist here as it did in the Middle Sanctuary, where it flourished in every corner. The black marble walls, veined with white and silver, glistened beneath the soft glow of ether lights. His footsteps echoed with measured purpose—he had grown weary, more careful since his last moments with Elara.

And all this time, he had been hiding a secret—nestled within his rune-marked bones, beside the purple ember of his heart, a small fragment of her blue soul had remained. A tether. A whisper of her presence. Something to hold onto.

Kaelan was thankful that, here in the Under-Sanctuary, his form was ever-changing. Within this realm, he could exist wrapped in the illusion of his mortal self, concealing the stark white bones beneath. Hiding that tiny glimmer of blue in his own ember, no one would take that piece of her from him..

Kaelan passed others in the dimly lit halls as he made his way toward the Veilbound Sanctum, the place where Nelous often conducted his affairs. Like many of the other Vesperites of The Black Reliquary, Kaelan convened here when called. As he approached the large black and marble doors, an Oathbound stopped him. Kaelan recognized him immediately—Veridan.

Clad in black armor that shimmered under the ether light, Veridan raised a finger to his lips, gesturing toward a small crack in the door. Kaelan leaned in, his breath held, peering through the gap.

Inside, Ygharis, the Goddess of Life and wife to his master Nelous, stood in conversation. Her presence was a rare sight in these halls, and Kaelan pressed his body against the cold stone, careful not to make a sound. Beside him, Veridan mirrored his action, both of them seizing the rare opportunity to listen in. The moment was fleeting, and they both understood the importance of what was about to unfold.

"You have meddled, wife!" Nelous’s voice was tight with restraint. Kaelan could hear the sound of his fingers tapping on the onyx throne.

"I do not want to watch this go on for another thousand years. I gave them a chance—more than you ever did," Ygharis replied sharply, her heels clicking against the marble floor.

Kaelan had felt his pulse thrum—a new sensation. He had known they were talking about him and Elara. He had cursed under his breath."Threadbinders be damned." The words made Veridan snap his gaze toward Kaelan, a silent warning to stay quiet.

"Kaelan did this to himself," Nelous’s voice softened slightly.

"You are no innocent in this, husband. He was a new Vesperite, untrained. You did not allow him the chance to learn control over that which he had not mastered." Her voice cut through the air, calm yet biting.

Kaelan ran a hand through his hair, unwilling to let his mind linger on this moment. Though his form was summoned and solid, the twisting guilt still clawed at him from within. The ember in his chest pulsed in a steady rhythm—constant, unwavering. A small, stubborn part of it felt like a reminder, grounding him. A piece of her, beating calm and sure.

His thoughts drifted back to that day in the meadow. They had been so young. He had visited her often—she was a Wayfinder, a gifted soul born beneath Tamhana’s full moon, one who could see beyond the veil. She could have helped him. She was gentle, radiant, with a smile as warm as the sun. They had started something then, something unspoken yet certain.

He had been holding flowers for her when she arrived, dressed in deep blue, her auburn hair catching the light. This was the memory he hated most—the moment he lost control and his power betrayed him. It came like a crashing wave against his soul, relentless and unforgiving.

He had reached out to caress her cheek, but something dark and unbidden had coursed through his mortal fingers. At his touch, she withered, her life unraveling in an instant. He felt something inside himself snap, as if something vital had been shattered beyond repair. Horror crept over his features and a silent scream began to grow in the depths of his soul. The meadow had grown silent, the air had thickened.The sky swam with dark clouds.

He had touched her, and with that touch, he had given her death.

She had slipped from his arms into oblivion before he had even understood what it meant to love her. In his chest he felt something shatter into a million fragments. He clutched at her, anguish twisting his features.

Before he knew it, he and Elara had both been cast into the very sanctum he now stood before. The door had been left slightly ajar, and through the crack, he could hear the gods arguing inside. She had been in his arms, lifeless, as tears threatened to fall.

Gone was the beautiful meadow where they had stood together—where he had once held wildflowers for her. Now, those same flowers wilted in his fingers, just as she had withered at his touch.

Nelous had been furious, his wrath swift and unrelenting. He had lashed out, and in that moment, the curse had begun. Ether lights in the Veilbound snuffing out as the only light was left on them. Elara’s body drooping,

"You have broken a sacred bond, Kaelan." The god’s voice had echoed through his mind, each word a nail driven into his soul. Elara lay in his arms before the Obsidian Throne, her warmth fading, slipping away like sand through his fingers.

Veridan the Oathbound had been there that day as well, his presence a silent witness to Kaelan’s undoing. Nelous’s eyes had been cold and calculating, devoid of mercy. His fingertips rapped on his throne the sound sharp and cutting.The Sanctum Silent as his angered brewed.

"For every cycle her life turns, you will carry her soul to a new vessel. You alone will bear the weight of that which cannot be undone. She will never remember who she was or who you were to her. And you—" Nelous’s voice had darkened, finality laced in his words, "—you will carry the burden of those actions for eternity."

The gods’ power had surged through him, searing his bones as runes carved themselves into his very core, stripping him bare of his essence. It was a punishment both merciless and absolute. Yet, there was one thing Nelous could not touch—his heart.

The Threadbinders of Fate had intervened, whispering their defiance against this moment. And so, his heart had not been shattered, nor consumed. Instead, it had crystallized into the ember it was now—a fragile yet unyielding relic of what had been stolen from him.

From that day forward, Kaelan watched over Elara through every lifetime—whether long or fleeting, ended by fate, sickness, or violence. Each time she perished, he was the one to collect her soul, the one to place her into a new vessel. And each time, he was granted but a single night to speak the words she would always forget.

The cycle repeated, endless and unbroken.

Even now, that memory burned—an agony without end. He had been spiraling into it, nearly lost, when something in his chest tugged at him—a flicker of flame pulling him back. Veridan was watching him, his gaze knowing..

“The Threadbinders sought to stop you, Nelous. I know it is dangerous to have hope, but how many turns must this take? He has served you for a thousand years—has your thirst for punishment not been sated?” Ygharis’s voice resonated within the sanctum, heavy with both defiance and sorrow.

“It is not that simple, Beloved,” Nelous sighed, the weight of ages pressing into his words.

Kaelan remained still, listening—wondering what his master would say. A thousand long years of heartache, of carrying a burden he could never set down. Beside him, Veridan stood in silent vigilance. He had been there the first time, guiding Kaelan’s trembling hands as they placed her into a new vessel.

"I merely did as the Threadbinders bid. It cannot be undone—this course of motion has been held still for too long." Ygharis’s voice was softer now as her steps halted before the throne.

Slowly, Kaelan and Veridan turned away, their footsteps echoing as they departed from the doors of the Veilbound Sanctum. They paused only when they were far enough. Kaelan exhaled sharply and leaned against one of the black marble columns, his fingers curling against the column. The air in the hall felt still, yet dissonant whispers of the dead slithered in the background.

“I have to find her. See her,” Kaelan confessed, his voice raw.

Veridan’s expression darkened. “You can’t be caught. She can’t see you, Kaelan.” His tone was firm, unwavering.

Kaelan let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. 'I know the risks. But I need answers, Veridan.' He swept a hand out, the ether-lights shifting with the movement.

Veridan was silent for a moment, his gaze steady and unwavering as he reached into his armor and retrieved a ring. His eyes met Kaelan’s, both steady and knowing. The ring was something most Oathbound kept more than one of—a powerful talisman that would allow him to retain his mortal form within the Middle Sanctuary.

Kaelan’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized the ring. It was the same one Veridan had lent him more than once. It was the one he’d used to visit Elara in secret, slipping into her room under the cover of night. He’d watched her as she slept, careful not to wake her. In those quiet moments, he’d left her small notes on black parchment, each one a whispered message in the darkness.

It was dangerous, too dangerous. But Kaelan had done it anyway.

“What if you seek out the Threadbinders?” Veridan whispered, as if even the walls could betray them.

Kaelan took the ring, tucking it into his armor. He nodded, his decision made. His steps were measured as he left Veridan in the hall, a singular purpose driving him forward. He needed answers. He needed to see her—to know she was well.

He loved her with every fiber of his existence. Her words, her promise, still resonated deep within him.

“I will find you again.”

When the Stars Call

Part Two

Elara Nyssara

Stars twinkled above Blackheart Bay as a crisp evening breeze drifted through her window, stirring the curtains with a whispering touch. She lay there once again, eyes open, as the scent of salt and sea caressed her bare skin like the ghost of a lover. Her mind had been restless these past few days, consumed with helping the castle prepare for the Serenade of Stars, the festival honoring Tamhana.

Pulling the light blue covers closer, she nestled into the plush pillows, her dark hair spilling around her. Her gaze lingered on the vast sky beyond the window, lost in the quiet shimmer of the stars.

"Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty…"her voice trailed off quietly.

A shooting star streaked across the horizon, halting her count. Its tail shimmered light blue against the night sky—something was different.Elara stood swiftly, her hand gripping the fabric of her robe. Castle Blackwind was all she had known, but each day here felt more like a cage. She couldn’t ignore it any longer—something had to change, and she wasn’t going to wait for it to happen on its own

She watched the falling star and traced its path, her dark eyes alight. As it vanished beyond the horizon, her gaze dropped to the edge of her windowsill, where a neatly folded piece of black paper lay.

Frowning, she reached for it, then glanced out the window. She was on the third floor of the castle—no one could have left it there. Her gaze traced the creeping ivy along the familiar black stone walls. Below, the courtyard was empty, as always.

The evening breeze stirred her black hair as she unfolded the paper. A familiar scent enveloped her—cold rain and ash, laced with the fresh dampness of earth and the lingering embers of a dying fire. It clung to the page, wrapping around her like a ghost of something half-remembered.

Delicate silver ink shimmered in the moonlight, the letters raised ever so slightly beneath her fingertips as she traced them.

This wasn’t the first note she had found—it had been a long while since the last. They were always brief, just a few words, a fragment of something lost, tugging at the edges of her mind like an image she could never fully grasp.

The scent lingered in the air, unsettling her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that it was important, something she had to understand. Instead of letting the note blend with the rest, she held it a moment longer, her mind racing. This time, she wouldn’t just forget about it

Elara knew she should have been frightened, or at least unsettled. But the notes were never threatening. They were always left with care, tucked into places she would find them.Under pillow, near the Altar of Tamhana once and even one under her dinner plate.

The first had been beneath her pillow. It had simply read: "Dream, Little Flame."

The handwriting never changed. The scent never faded—cold rain and ash, a whisper of something both distant and familiar.Forcing herself back into bed, she lay still, watching the stars, counting them once more. Her head sank into the pillow, her eyes becoming heavy with sleep.

And as the night stretched on, sleep finally claimed her.

Elara awoke tangled in her sheets, chasing the fading memory of the ghost who haunted her dreams. He was always there, a presence she could never quite grasp. His voice was a warm caress, soothing and familiar, while his touch lingered in her dreams—velvet against her skin. But he was always just out of reach. She could never forget the sound of his voice, deep, rich, and melodic. Who was he? she wondered, and why did her chest ache so when she thought of him, as if a part of herself was missing.

As Elara sat up slowly, the door creaked open, and Isolde walked in, her deep blue robes fluttering with each graceful step. She carried a tray of pastries and what smelled like honey-drop tea, the scent filling the room. Isolde placed the tray on the bedside table, her movements gentle and knowing.

"You didn’t sleep well again," Isolde said softly, reaching over to push Elara’s hair behind her ear.

“How can you tell?” Elara asked, her voice still heavy with sleep, as she pulled herself from the tangled pale blue sheets.

"Your bed looks like you had a fight with an Ashen Snow Cat." Isolde laughed lightly, her tone teasing, before pulling Elara’s robes from the wardrobe. The dark blue robes of Tamhana fluttered in the early sunlight, the gold stars sparkling faintly as she held them up for Elara.

As Elara rose from her bed, her gaze fell upon something on her dresser. They hadn't been there the night before—a small bouquet of wildflowers. Her bare feet sank into the thick carpet as she reached for the robes from Isolde, but she paused in front of the dresser. Her fingertips drifted gently over the zinnias, sweet peas, and wild roses, the petals soft beneath her touch. She lifted the small vase, the flowers fresh and vibrant, and tucked the robe under her arm as she studied the delicate arrangement, wondering who had left them there.

“Those are pretty” Isolde commented as she poured honey-drop tea into the awaiting cups..

Nestled deeply within the bouquet, a tiny bell-shaped flower sat, as if crafted from delicate glass—a Starlight Blossom. The starlight blossoms were so rare, blooming only once a year. Elara had heard the tales—each blossom held the dreams of the one who picked it, turned to glass, holding the essence of their dreams within. The moment her fingers brushed its fragile petals, something stirred deep within her—a pulse of magic, both familiar and foreign. It swirled to life, gathering above her hand as though summoned by an unseen force. The tiny flower floated effortlessly, suspended in the air. As Elara gazed at it, motes of spirits flickered around her, their ethereal light dancing in the thick, charged atmosphere.

The air around her thickened, and with a sensation of being drawn away, Elara was transported somewhere else.

Before her, standing in a dreamlike haze, was the man who had chased her through the shadows of her sleep. Tall and handsome, he wore dark robes that shimmered like swirling mist at midnight, with subtle silver accents glistening like stars. His eyes locked with hers, and in that instant, a bond formed—a connection so deep and undeniable that it felt as if they were sharing the same fragmented dream.

The air between them crackled, an electric tension building. "Who are you?" Elara demanded, her voice trembling with a mix of awe and certainty, but he didn’t answer.

"I’ve been holding onto this dream, Elara," he said, his voice thick with pain. "To see you." His words echoed with a deep sorrow, and in that moment, images flashed before her eyes—a life lived with him, a life she felt she almost knew. A life filled with wildflower bouquets, their vibrant colors painting a picture of love and memories she had yet to understand.

Her heart pounded, the ache in her chest intensifying as something invisible pulled her toward him. She didn’t understand it, but she felt it—an undeniable pull that reached into her very soul.

He reached for her, his hand so gentle it was almost a caress. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "I love you, Elara. I have loved you in every lifetime," he whispered, the words a tender plea that echoed in the depths of her being. "Find a way to remember me."

As quickly as the moment had unfolded, it was pulled away, leaving Elara breathless. The starlight blossom rested gently in Elara’s hand, its delicate petals shimmering with an otherworldly glow.

Isolde, ever the practical one, instructed her to get dressed. Elara noticed that Isolde was unaware of what had just happened as she took the robes from her hands. Fragmented memories danced in her mind, interwoven with the image of his deep, sorrowful eyes. She knew him—she was certain of it—but the connection remained just out of reach. He had desperately wanted her to remember.

Her heart was racing as she clutched the Starlight Blossom. His words shattered through her thoughts.

"I have loved you in every lifetime."

A deep ache bloomed in her chest, a longing she hadn't known she was capable of feeling

Elara nodded, placing the Starlight Blossom on the dresser before slipping into the blue robes. The cool silk cascaded over her skin, the embroidered gold stars shimmering as they caught the sunlight. She tied the back with careful fingers, but her gaze kept drifting toward the delicate flower.

Stepping closer to the mirror, she gathered her long black hair, her thoughts still tangled with him. She wove a few wildflowers into her braid, letting it rest over her shoulder. With a final touch, she carefully tied the flowing robes into a neat bow at her back.

With a gentle movement, she pulled the silk cord from the bouquet and, carefully, threaded the blossom onto it. She tied a slipknot at each end, securing the flower against the cord. Then, she slipped the blossom beneath her robes, tucking it just over her heart. The flower seemed to pulse with a quiet energy, a connection she couldn't explain, but knew she needed to keep close. Keep him close.

“Elara, we have to get moving. There are still many preparations for the festival,” Isolde said, her tone commanding as she ushered Elara from her room.

They walked down the halls, but Elara’s mind was still on him.

“Would I be permitted to make a wish this year?” Elara asked as they crossed the courtyard, heading toward the Astral Arch, the temple of Tamhana.

The temple, carved from pale moonstone, rose before them, its arched spires stretching toward the heavens like celestial fingers, shimmering with an ethereal glow beneath the starlight. Veins of luminescent silver ran through the stone, pulsing faintly, as if carrying the whispered dreams of those who came before. Above, gulls drifted between the towering spires, their cries lost to the wind, while beyond the temple, the Sea of Veil shimmered beneath the moon’s quiet gaze.

Elara’s fingers played absently with the end of her braid, the salt-laced breeze teasing loose strands of hair as she carefully shaped her wish in her mind.

“Of course,” Isolde replied, her tone carrying a hint of surprise.

Outside the Astral Arch, vendors lined the courtyard, selling delicate strips of paper meant for wish-making. The stalls overflowed with breathtaking designs—some adorned with silver flecks, others patterned with dark flowers or swirling constellations.

Elara slowed her steps, taking her time, drawn in by the beauty of each piece. With a soft breath, she lifted her hand and summoned a spirit mote, a flickering light pulsing violet in the crisp morning air.

“Blessed goddess, guide my heart and thoughts.”

The tiny mote hovered before her for a moment before darting off between the stalls. Elara followed swiftly, weaving through the lantern-lit marketplace until the spirit came to a sudden stop before an old stall.

An elderly man sat upon a weathered stool, his kind eyes peering at her from behind a pair of delicate spectacles. He wore a simple white shirt, its sleeves rolled up, suspenders resting over well-worn breeches. He regarded her with a quiet, knowing smile.

The papers here were exquisite—deep, haunting shades of purple and midnight blue, some flecked with silver like scattered stardust, others adorned with inky flowers that seemed to bloom in the moonlight.

Elara’s hand hesitated over a single strip—one that resembled dark rain falling against the night sky.She pulled it free as she ran her fingers over the spirit mote encircling her hand.

“This one “ she whispered as if transfixed,

“A gift then for the young priestess” He said with a smile Elara plucked a flower from her braid, a queen lime blush zinnia, and tucked into his pocket.

“Blessings of the goddess upon you,” she said, bowing gracefully before turning toward the Astral Arch.

Inside the temple, people moved swiftly, their hurried footsteps echoing through the sacred halls as they carried out their tasks. Yet to Elara, they seemed to fade into the background, their presence distant, like shadows against the glow of the temple’s moonstone walls.

She settled at a long wooden table, where wells of ink shimmered beneath the soft candlelight. The spirit mote still circled her hand, pulsing gently, as if reluctant to leave. She wasn’t ready to dismiss it just yet.

Her fingers hovered over the selection of inks before choosing Obsidian Smoke, a deep charcoal with a metallic sheen. Turning over the exquisite paper, she dipped her quill and began to write in elegant, flowing script:

"I wish to remember him—the one who haunts my dreams, the one who has loved me in every lifetime."

Once the ink dried, she folded the paper into a delicate pentagon, threading its edges into itself before creasing it into a tiny, puffed star. Lifting it to her lips, she kissed it softly, whispering a silent prayer from the depths of her heart.

The mote hovered nearby, as if watching. With careful steps, she approached the Basin of Wishes, where countless paper stars collected, their colors sparkling in the light. Holding her breath, she released her wish, letting it drift down onto the others.

The Serenade of Stars was still weeks away, the wish was made with her heart’s desire. She whispered one more prayer.

For chapter one The Vessel and the Whisper