A memory slams into me.
A child, no older than five, laughing as he swings a wooden sword.
A noble dark elf stands before him, smiling, patient, strong.
"Again, little warrior."
The sword clangs against a metal gauntlet.
"You must always be ready."
A woman’s voice, warm and teasing.
"You’re going to turn him into a menace."
The dark elf female laughs, kneeling to braid the child’s hair.
"He is already a menace."
The child grins, bright-eyed, so loved, so protected.
A love that was real.
A love that was stolen from me.
The memory rips from my mind like a blade through flesh.
I stagger back, the room spinning.
"No."
My chest heaves.
"No—"
The creature does not move.
It only watches me.
And I see it now.
Not the twisted body.
Not the ruined flesh.
Not the monster.
The parent beneath it.
"Father."
The word falls from my lips, hoarse and broken.
A sharp, vicious pain rips through my chest, like a sword splitting me open from the inside.
Memories I buried, memories I thought were dreams, memories I thought were lies?—
They were real.
