The air in Veylan’s market hung thick with the scent of burnt amber and iron, a metallic tang that clung to the back of Kael’s throat. He adjusted the leather straps of his satchel, its weight familiar against his shoulder, and stepped between stalls where merchants hawked vials of liquid light. These were memories, bottled and sold like wine, their hues shifting with the emotions they held—sapphire for nostalgia, crimson for rage, gold for triumph. Kael’s fingers brushed the edge of a glass container as he passed, its surface cool beneath his touch. He didn’t stop. Not yet.
The market’s din swelled around him—shouts of negotiation, the clink of glass, the low hum of enchantments woven into the air. Veylan was built on such sounds, its streets a labyrinth of trade and secrecy. Kael had navigated them since he was old enough to hold a ledger, his father’s voice echoing in his mind: *A memory is more valuable than gold, but only if you know what it’s worth.*
He paused at a stall where a woman with silver-streaked hair sold memories of flight. The vial she held shimmered like liquid moonlight, and Kael could almost feel the rush of wind against his skin. But he turned away. He wasn’t here for dreams.
A shadow fell across his path. Kael looked up to see a man in a dark coat, his face obscured by the brim of a hat. The man’s voice was low, almost a whisper. “You’ve got the look of someone who deals in lost things.”
Kael met his gaze. “I deal in what people are willing to pay for.”
The man stepped closer, the scent of old paper and ash surrounding him. “I have something you might be interested in. A memory that doesn’t belong to anyone.”
Kael’s pulse quickened. “What’s the price?”
The man tilted his head. “Not money. Information. A name.”
Kael hesitated. He’d learned long ago that some memories came with a cost he couldn’t afford. But something in the man’s voice—something brittle, like a cracked mirror—made him lean in. “Who?”
“Elias Vorne.”
The name hit Kael like a blow. His brother. The one who’d vanished three years ago, leaving behind only a trail of unanswered questions and a hollow ache in Kael’s chest. “What do you know?”
The man’s smile was thin. “That he’s alive. And that he’s hiding something. But you’ll need to find him first.”
Kael stared at him, his mind racing. Elias had been a scholar, not a smuggler. Why would he disappear? And why now? The man turned and melted into the crowd, leaving Kael with a single vial of memory and a question that burned brighter than any enchantment.
He didn’t open it until he was back in his small flat, the door locked against the city’s noise. The vial was cool in his hand, its contents swirling like trapped starlight. When he uncorked it, the memory surged into him—sharp, vivid, and utterly wrong.
He was standing in a dimly lit room, the air thick with the smell of parchment and candle wax. A figure stood across from him, their face obscured by shadow. “You shouldn’t have come,” the figure said, their voice a mixture of fear and resolve. “They’re watching. They always are.”
Kael tried to pull away, but the memory held fast. The figure stepped closer, and for a fleeting moment, Kael saw their face—his own.
The vision shattered, leaving him gasping on the floor. His hands trembled as he reached for the vial, now empty. Elias had been here. He’d left this memory behind. But why? And who was the figure?
The answer, Kael realized, wasn’t in the memory itself—but in the silence between the moments. He needed to find Elias, but he couldn’t do it alone.
That night, Kael found himself at the door of Lira’s workshop, the scent of burnt herbs and ink lingering in the air. She was a memory alchemist, one of the few who could manipulate the raw essence of recollection. Her reputation was as sharp as her tongue, but Kael had no one else to turn to.
She opened the door without a word, her dark eyes scanning him. “You’re here for a reason,” she said, stepping aside to let him in.
Kael stepped into the cluttered space, where shelves overflowed with vials and scrolls. The air hummed with latent energy. “I need your help,” he said. “Elias is alive. And he left a memory behind.”
Lira’s expression didn’t change, but her fingers tightened around a glass beaker. “Memories aren’t always meant to be found,” she said. “Especially not the ones that hurt.”
“This one does,” Kael insisted. “It’s the only lead I have.”
She studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “Then we start with the memory. But be warned—some truths are harder to bear than others.”
They worked through the night, dissecting the fragments of Elias’s memory. Lira’s hands moved with precision, her voice steady as she analyzed the layers. “This isn’t just a memory,” she said. “It’s a trap. Someone wanted Elias to leave this behind, to draw someone else in.”
Kael’s stomach twisted. “Who?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Lira replied. “But if Elias left this, he must have known the risk. Which means he was trying to tell us something.”
They pored over the details, searching for patterns. The memory’s setting—its faint scent of lavender and ash, the way the light filtered through dusty windows—felt familiar. Too familiar.
“This place,” Kael said slowly. “It’s the old archive. The one that was destroyed.”
Lira’s eyes widened. “You’re sure?”
Kael nodded. “Elias used to go there often. He said it held something important.”
“Then we need to go there,” Lira said. “But be careful. If someone wanted Elias to leave this memory, they’ll be waiting for us.”
The archive stood at the edge of Veylan, its stone walls weathered by time. Kael and Lira approached under the cover of dusk, the city’s lights flickering in the distance. The air was colder here, carrying the scent of damp earth and forgotten books.
They found the entrance hidden behind a tangle of ivy, its door slightly ajar. Inside, the silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of their footsteps. The walls were lined with shelves, their contents long since decayed. But at the center of the room stood a pedestal, and on it rested a single vial—identical to the one Kael had found.
“This is it,” Kael whispered.
Lira stepped forward, her hand hovering over the vial. “It’s not just a memory. It’s a key.”
As she touched it, the air around them shifted. The walls seemed to pulse, and a low hum filled the room. Kael felt a pull, as if the memory itself was reaching for him.
He reached out and took the vial. The moment he did, the world around them dissolved into light.
When it settled, they were standing in a different place—a cavernous chamber lit by flickering lanterns. The air was heavy with the scent of ink and old parchment. And at the center of it all stood a figure, their face obscured by shadow.
“You found it,” the figure said. “I was hoping you would.”
Kael’s breath caught. “Elias?”
The figure stepped forward, and for a moment, Kael saw his brother’s face—clear, unbroken, and filled with something that looked like regret. “I didn’t have a choice,” Elias said. “They took everything. My memories, my name… even my voice.”
“Who are they?” Kael demanded. “What did you do?”
Elias’s eyes flickered. “I uncovered something the city wasn’t meant to know. A truth that could tear Veylan apart. And they silenced me for it.”
Lira stepped forward, her voice steady. “Then why leave the memory? Why not just disappear?”
Elias’s expression hardened. “Because I needed someone to carry the truth forward. Someone who could fight back.”
Kael’s mind raced. The memory trade, the hidden archive, the figure in the vial—it all connected. “You’re saying this is bigger than us,” he said. “That the city itself is built on a lie?”
Elias nodded. “And if you want to stop them, you’ll need more than just a memory. You’ll need a weapon.”
The figure raised a hand, and the chamber shifted again. A new memory surged into Kael—images of a hidden vault, its walls lined with memories stolen from the city’s people. A power that could rewrite history itself.
“This is what they’re after,” Elias said. “And if they take it, Veylan will never be the same.”
Kael looked at Lira, then back at his brother. The weight of the truth pressed down on him, but he didn’t flinch. “Then we stop them,” he said. “Together.”
Elias’s eyes softened. “You’re more like me than you know.”
The memory ended, and Kael found himself back in the archive, the vial still in his hand. Lira was beside him, her expression unreadable.
“We have a choice,” she said. “We can walk away, let this memory fade. Or we can fight.”
Kael looked at the vial, then at Lira. “We fight.”
The city of Veylan would never be the same again.
