Nyra Vael

The One Who Remembers What Others Forget

Nyra walked like a shadow long before she ever saw one.

People said she was quiet.

They didn’t understand that silence was her first language.

She remembered too much —

faces from other lives,

places that didn’t exist on maps,

and the feel of blood on her hands that never happened.

A crescent-shaped scar beneath her left eye burned when the air shifted.

Like it did this morning.

Like it did when someone was about to lie.

Her pendant glowed faintly red.

Someone is waking up, it seemed to whisper.

Someone dangerous. Someone familiar.