The girl distanced herself from them, leaning against a tree as she watched. Alex strode calmly toward the fat boy, flames of anger burning in his eyes.
The boy stumbled back, his face pale. "D-Don't come near me!" he stammered. "I'll tell everyone in the village that girl is a witch—"
A punch cut him off mid-sentence. The impact sent him rolling several meters across the ground. Gasping, he clutched his face. "L-Leave me alone! I won't say anything about today, I swear!" Fear choked his voice—he knew Alex wouldn't hesitate to do worse.
The other boys stood frozen, still reeling from the shock of Alex surviving the Blackroot poison—and the little girl producing that mysterious violet glass bottle.
Alex ignored them. He grabbed a large stone and brought it down on the fat boy again and again, each strike fueled by fury, until the boy's breath grew ragged, his body limp.
A soft voice cut through the violence. "Brother, that's enough." Iris stepped forward, her tone gentle but firm. "Don't dirty your hands with his life."
Alex paused. She was right—killing him would only bring unwanted attention. He dropped the stone, wiping his bloodied hands.
Eirian, still a spectral observer, frowned. What is the Trial of Memory trying to show me?
Alex turned to the remaining boys, his voice a low threat. "Did you see anything?"
They snapped out of their daze, nodding frantically. "H-He was attacked by bandits!" one blurted. "We—we didn't see anything else!"
Alex's gaze shifted to the barely conscious fat boy. "And you? What will you say?"
The boy trembled, his voice thick with pain and fear. "B-Bandits… I was ambushed in the forest."
Satisfied, Alex watched as the group scrambled away, dragging their injured friend with them.
The moment they vanished, his strength gave out. He collapsed to his knees, exhaustion crashing over him. "My energy hasn't recovered… I pushed too hard," he muttered in tiredness.
Iris rushed to his side. "Brother, are you okay?" She fetched water from the lake and pressed the bottle into his hands. 'Rest. Breathe.'
Alex drank the water slowly, his throat parched. "Thank you for that medicine earlier," he said, voice rough. "Without it, I'd be dead."
Iris smiled, though her eyes held a shadow. "I should thank you for saving me from those bullies. And don't worry about the medicine—I'm just glad it helped someone."
Alex opened his mouth to reply, but words failed him. Instead, he shifted the subject. "Where's your home, Iris? Once I recover, I'll take you back."
The girl's shoulders slumped. "My parents died when I was four months old," she murmured, barely audible. "My grandmother raised me, but… she passed away five days ago."
Alex's chest tightened. He reached out, gently ruffling her hair. "I'm sorry. Where are you staying now? With relatives?"
She shook her head. "I don't have any. I wandered here from another village, just… trying to find a place to rest. Then those boys found me." Her voice wavered. "You know the rest."
Alex hesitated, then brightened. "I live in Formlie Village nearby with my parents. You could stay with us."
Iris's smile was fragile. "Thank you, brother, but I don't want to be a burden."
"Where else will you go? Sleep in the fields?" He softened his tone. "You could help my mother with chores. I'll explain everything to my parents."
Iris bit her lip. With no home or family, the offer was a lifeline. Finally, she nodded. "Okay. Thank you."
Eirian watched, his ghostly form stirring with unease. Is this a vision of the future? A forgotten past? Or something else entirely?
Let's go, Alex said, offering Iris his hand. The girl hesitated, then slipped her tiny palm into his. As their fingers touched, Eirian's vision fractured.
Suddenly, A phoenix's scream tore through the void. Flames coiled around a figure with Iris's eyes, but older, fiercer formed in his mind. Her voice echoed: "You will remember, Eirian. The threads are unraveling."
The vision shattered like glass. Eirian gasped, his spectral form flickering violently—as if the Trial itself had struck him*. His fingers flew to his forehead, where the phoenix mark burned with unnatural heat.
"Threads? Remember what?" The words tasted like ash in his throat.
This was no hallucination. The vision had been real—or real enough to leave his soul vibrating with residual energy. The girl's eyes in that fleeting moment—Iris's eyes, but ancient, knowing—haunted him more than any Trial specter.
"What game is this?" he whispered to the empty void around him feeling goosebumps rushed across his body.
The Trial of Memory had always shown him frozen fragments of the past. But now? It was changing things. Reacting?
And that voice—"You will remember"—it hadn't just spoken to him.
It had recognized him.
A new fear coiled in his gut. If the Trial could bend this way... what else was it hiding?
Below him, Alex and Iris trudged toward Formlie Village, oblivious.
Eirian's POV:
The Trial of Memory had never shown him living strangers before. Yet this girl—Iris stirred something ancient in his soul. That vial… He'd seen its twin before, clutched in his own hands in a half-remembered life. *"Violet elixir of the Forgotten Saints,"* a voice from his past whispered. The last gift before the fall.
And Alex. The boy's rage had ignited something beyond human strength. Just as mine once did, Eirian realized with dawning horror.
Were these echoes of his own sins? Or a path not yet taken?
What were these visions—
A warning? A reckoning? Or the Trial's cruel joke?"
The Trial offered no mercy, only riddles written in his own blood.
The Walk to Formlie Village —
Dusk painted the sky in bruised purples as the duo neared the village outskirts. Iris stiffened suddenly, her grip tightening on Alex's sleeve.
"Brother," she whispered. *"The trees are watching us."
Alex frowned, following her gaze. Only shadows stretched between the oaks—but Eirian saw.
Glints of red, like pupils reflecting moonlight where none existed.
Then, a whisper: "Ashes to ashes, realm to realm."
Alex spun, but the voice slithered away. "Did you hear—?"
No, Iris lied too quickly, pulling him forward. "Just the wind."
Alex frowned, following Iris's gaze. Only shadows stretched between the oaks—but Eirian saw.
Glints of red flickered between the trees—not reflections, but eyes. A hunched shape moved with predatory grace: four dagger-like fangs, matted black fur, and a grotesquely human face contorted into a snarl.
A Mutunat? Eirian's spectral form tensed. But they've been extinct for centuries...
Alex's grip on Iris's hand tightened. "We'll reach the village in ten minutes," he muttered, quickening his pace. "I don't feel safe here."
Iris remained silent, but her knuckles whitened around the empty violet vial in her pocket.
Above them, Eirian's vision suddenly blurred. An ancient voice boomed in his mind:
"CONGRATULATIONS. THE TRIAL OF MEMORY CONCLUDES."
His form began dissolving into golden embers. So I return to my body—but what was any of this?
Below, Iris glanced backward—directly at the vanishing Eirian—and whispered words meant for none but the wind: We'll meet again, my...
The rest was lost as the void swallowed him whole. Her final word never reached him.