Like morning mist, the divine garden vanished.
Ren Zian opened his eyes to the icy breath of the second chamber of the celestial trial. Amid a limitless emptiness, stone pillars ascended, each engraved with runes that glowed in strange tongues. His feet hardly touched the stone, as though he were suspended between two worlds, and gravity had no power here.
However, he wasn't chilled by the emptiness.
It was the noise.
Weeping.
Not too loud. Not damaged.
Only soft sobs.
Distorted, frail, and almost embarrassed to be heard, they reverberated like echoes themselves.
"Lyra?" Ren muttered.
It wasn't her voice, though.
She was there when he turned.
Not Lyra.
Not Sariel.
Not even the maiden who tempted him the fourth time.
Aravielle was the one.
He had forgotten about the girl until now.
She was standing barefoot in a circle of light, wearing a plain black veil, her fingers gripping a small ribbon, the same ribbon he had given her as a child under the southern pines in his first life.
However, she was no longer a child.
She was glowing.
Silent and graceful, older now. However, her eyes retained the naiveté of a young woman who once said to him:
"You don't have to love me. All I want is for you to keep me in mind.
He had overlooked her.
throughout each lifetime.
He whispered, "Why am I seeing her now?"
The Keeper reappeared, this time as a twilight-clad woman. Despite her veil, her voice was powerful.
"Because who you loved is not the subject of the second trial."
"It's about who you left behind."
Ren's chest constricted. "I didn't intend to."
The Keeper remarked, "You did it to keep her safe." Using a spell designed to protect her from divine vengeance, you erased her memory. But mercy is not memory. She recalled you. Always.
Aravielle's eyes glistened as she looked up.
She stepped forward and said, "I've waited." "For a single touch. for a single glance. For a whisper, even.
Without thinking, Ren's legs moved.
He shook as he stood in front of her.
"I had no idea—"
"You decided not to," she said quietly. You believed that I would be spared. But your silence broke my heart every day.
She touched his palm with the ribbon.
Ren Zian, I only have one question. I can only ask one.
Ren took a swallow. "Ask."
Aravielle's voice broke as she looked at him.
"Even though I'm the one you have to give up, will you still remember me now?"
No god's command could penetrate the depth of the question.
A doorway opened behind her; it was elaborate, lovely, and etched with the memories they had of one another.
But there was a glimmer of finality.
The Keeper declared, "You will lose her forever if you go through that door." Every memory. Every bond.
"The gods might notice your disobedience if you stay, and she might go through hardship once more in your world."
It was the most inhumane decision to date.
To keep her safe, forget about her.
Or risk divine wrath by remembering her.
Ren's fists clenched. "You stated that three must be judged: one saved, one severed."
The Keeper concluded, "And one sacrificed." "The most difficult of all."
Aravielle grasped his hand. "I'll forgive you if you forget about me."
He took a step toward her. "If I recall you... Never again will I allow the gods to touch you.
Time stood still as they gazed at one another.
Then—
He untied the veil behind her head.
The light engulfed Aravielle, and she gasped. The gods let out a cry. The room shook.
With a raw voice, Ren declared, "I choose her." "I go with the memory. The pain is what I choose. I make all the decisions.
Though it didn't burn, the ribbon in his hand caught fire.
Despite her tears, Aravielle grinned. "Then in every life I am yours."
In a thunderclap of fire, the second trial fell.
Ren was no longer alone in the emptiness when he woke up.
Lyra was at his side, holding his hand.
She muttered, "I saw her."
Ren replied, "She's a part of me." "And she will be forever."
The voice of the Keeper reverberated:
"Two trials were successful. There is still one. And it has nothing to do with love.
"It is true."