Chapter 23 Shattered Memories
Neel:
I woke with a start, the sunlight weakly piercing through the blinds, but it didn’t reach the darkness that pressed on my chest. My body ached, muscles stiff from the long, restless night. My chest still burned from the fight with Tasha, from the terror I had felt trying to save Tara. The memory of her call…..the trembling desperation in her voice….was sharp and jagged. “Neel… she’s coming… I can’t—” That was all I could remember. And then the silence.
The silence was worse than screams.
I swung my legs off the bed, hands gripping the sheets for a moment. She wasn’t here. Tasha. I swallowed hard, my throat tight. My legs trembled as I forced myself to my feet. The air in the house felt heavier, thick with some unspoken tension. The memory of her glowing white eyes, the pull of her magic against me, the way my chest had burned as if she’d reached inside me…it all lingered. My heart hammered with fear, grief, and exhaustion.
I moved mechanically, dressed in silence, avoiding the mirrors. I couldn’t bear to see myself right now, couldn’t bear to see the reflection of what had happened, of what I had failed to prevent. Tara’s face haunted me. Her fear, the blood, the way she had called me….everything.
When I reached the cemetery, the cold air was sharp, filling my lungs with a sting that matched the ache in my chest. The ground was damp from the morning mist, the grass still wet beneath my shoes. The mourners were gathered in hushed groups, faces pale and drawn. Whispered condolences floated on the air, but their words barely registered.
I saw her family first. Her mother, eyes red and swollen, held a handkerchief to her lips, trembling as if the sound of sobs themselves could break her. Her father stood stiff, knuckles white around a folded piece of paper, jaw tight. Her younger brother leaned against the wall of the mausoleum, lost and fragile.
I swallowed hard. “I… she had an accident,” I said, voice low, cracking under the weight of truth I couldn’t tell.
Her mother’s eyes flared, searching mine. “Accident? That’s all? You—”
“I tried,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I tried to save her. I really did. I couldn’t…”
The words fell hollow, meaningless even as I spoke them. The grief radiating from her family pressed against me. I could feel Tara’s absence as a physical weight, a crushing pressure. I bowed my head, unable to meet her mother’s gaze.
The funeral continued in slow motion, each prayer echoing painfully in the empty spaces of my heart. Flowers were laid on the casket, soft petals brushing against the dark wood, their scent faint but piercing. People whispered in tones of pity and sorrow. Questions hung in the air: “How did this happen?” “Why didn’t anyone stop it?” “Was it…?”
I answered none of them truthfully. I nodded politely, murmured words of condolence that felt like lies, all while keeping the truth locked behind a wall of grief and rage. Tasha. The fight. Her eyes, the magic, the terror….it all remained a secret, forbidden, and yet pressing at the edge of my mind.
I didn’t linger once the ceremony ended. I couldn’t. I left swiftly, the city streets blurred past me as I drove back. Each red light, each turn reminded me of what I had lost. My hands gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles were white. My stomach churned. Every memory of Tara’s voice calling me for help, every image of her fear, replayed over and over.
The house was quiet when I returned. The rooms smelled faintly of the vanilla and lavender candles I had lit days before, a feeble attempt to calm myself, to make the air feel safer. Tasha wasn’t there yet, but I could sense her presence, almost like static in the air, a pull of energy that made the hair on my neck rise. My chest tightened, the burn of the fight fresh in my mind.
And then she appeared.
She stepped into the room as though she had always been there, silent and poised, her eyes glowing with a faint silver light. The air shifted immediately. Every instinct in my body screamed danger, but I had no strength left to act.
“Neel,” she said softly, almost tenderly, the word carrying a weight I couldn’t place.
“Get out,” I said, trying to make my voice firm, though it trembled. “You know what you’ve done. Leave. Now.”
She smiled, a dangerous, knowing curve of her lips. “You look tired. You need rest.”
I took a step forward, chest tight, voice raw. “You won’t touch me. Not after what you’ve done.”
Her hand flicked once, and I felt the familiar pull of magic across my chest, cold, unnerving. My legs wobbled, my vision blurred, and the world tilted.
“You’ll sleep now,” she whispered, voice smooth, hypnotic. “Let me help you rest.”
Everything went black.
\[Tasha’s POV\]
I watched him slump against the bed, muscles taut, chest rising and falling unevenly. His body still carried the remnants of our struggle…the burn in his chest, the tension in his shoulders. I let him settle, letting my magic weave softly around him, subtle, precise, erasing only what I needed.
His eyelids fluttered, lips parted in a faint, confused whisper. I leaned closer, letting the hum of my magic pulse gently. “Shh… it’s okay,” I said softly. “You’re safe now. Everything is all right.”
The tension in his body softened slightly, confusion clouding his features. He didn’t remember Tara. He didn’t remember the funeral, the call, the blood, the fear. I had erased all of it. He was clean, empty, and unburdened….but still, fragile, as if the act of forgetting had left him hollow.
When he shifted slightly, eyes blinking open, confusion clear in their depths, I tilted my head. “Do you remember what happened yesterday?” I asked, careful, watching his reaction.
He frowned, voice low and uncertain. “I… I don’t… I only remember… the fight. The… the struggle.”
I let a soft, dark smile curl on my lips. “That’s because the rest… the painful parts… they’re gone. You’re safe. That’s what matters.”
He tried to speak again. “Wait… what about… who….who are you?”
I let my silver-white eyes gleam softly, holding him in place with a subtle pulse of magic. “I am… your fiance, Neel. Your partner. The one who will always be here for you.”
His confusion deepened, mouth opening slightly. “Fiancé? I… I… I don’t—”
“You will remember in time,” I said, voice soft, almost comforting, yet with the undercurrent of control that I wielded. “For now… just know that I am here. I am yours, and you are mine.”
He blinked, silent, processing, the last remnants of fear and grief erased, leaving only blank confusion. I let the glow of my eyes fade slightly, satisfied. The spell had worked.
And yet, deep inside, a quiet, dark thrill ran through me. He belonged to me now, untainted by memory, unburdened by grief. And soon… he would trust me completely.