Wisteria Von Vexx's Arc

Chapter 12 of 13

The phantom didn't move toward them or away. It simply stood in the space where their anchor objects had been, watching with eyes that held no human expression. Wisteria felt the ring pulse once against her finger—cold, then warm, then cold again. The phantom raised one smoke-like hand. An orb formed in its palm, glowing soft and bright, with mist swirling inside its translucent shell. Wisteria recognized the colors—the same shades that had filled the letter before the ring's magic erased it. Her stolen words, captured and held. The phantom's voice came without sound, pressing directly into her mind. It could return what the ring had taken. But Alastair would carry those memories instead, and whatever he held in their place would burn away. She looked at him. He stood near the old stone archway at the courtyard's edge, roots hanging like curtains around him. His hand rested against a folded parchment tucked inside his coat—something he'd carried for centuries, she realized. Something that mattered. Alastair met her eyes and pulled the parchment free. He held it out toward the phantom without hesitation. Wisteria grabbed his wrist. She told him no. He didn't need to know what she'd written. The words were gone, and that was the bargain she'd made. But Alastair shook his head. He said he chose this. The phantom drifted closer, and the orb in its hand pulsed brighter. The exchange happened in an instant. The orb dissolved into smoke that flowed toward Alastair, and the parchment in his hand crumbled to ash. He staggered, pressing one hand to his temple as new memories settled into place—her words, her feelings, everything the ring had claimed. Wisteria felt nothing change in herself, but she watched understanding reshape his expression. He knew now what she'd written. What she'd felt. And whatever he'd carried in that parchment was gone, replaced by pieces of her he was never meant to hold. The phantom's eyes dimmed slightly, its purpose fulfilled. The binding had shifted. They were still tied to it, but now they were also tied to each other in a way the ritual hadn't originally demanded. Wisteria had wanted to protect what was hers alone. Instead, Alastair had taken her burden and made it his.