Page 98 of Evermore

“I tried.” My voice came out rougher than intended. “Outside the Vale, I told you to go home. To return to your family.”

“That’s not the same as ‘Hey, by the way, this is a one-way trip.’” She crossed her arms, fury radiating from every line of her body. “You’re still making choices for me.”

The pause heightened the tension between us. “Never once in all of his threats did he mention you’d be stuck here with me. Nor Irri. And believe me, he’d have mentioned it to keep me from coming. If I can never leave, I could never find you again.”

Her eyes went from focusing on me to practically seeing through me and I knew why. At this point, she was no longer trying to hide the insidious Remnants’ thoughts. Movement in the fog drew our attention back to the city ahead of us. People drifted through the streets. Hordes of people, actually. And though it was overgrown with trees and vines creeping along the ground and up the walls, they seemed almost normal.

Paesha moved closer to me as we watched them, close enough that her shoulder brushed mine. Whether she sought comfort or not, I didn’t question it. I’d take what scraps of contact she offered.

“It’s not… There’s a market. Look.” She pointed to a collection of half broken carts lined up on the crumbling stone square. “There’s a fully functioning city here if you can get past the creepy shit.”

I smiled. Not because of what it was, but because of that spark. She’d gotten that same look in her eyes when she and Archer were about to do something reckless. Another familiar piece of her. She held a hand out to me, and I thought she did it without realizing. She dragged me along as she stepped through the gap in the wall and into the forgotten city.

A few faces sparked familiarity as we moved toward the marketplace, a poet whose words had moved mountains until the world forgot his name, a queen whose kingdom had been erased from maps and memories when she’d turned on her people. But most were strangers, lost to time in ways even I couldn’t recall.

“How many people did you banish here?” Paesha asked, watching a woman try to barter with a hooded man.

“Most of these souls weren’t banished,” I said quietly. “They were forgotten. When the world stops remembering you exist, this is where you end up. A merchant who never made a sale. A fisherman without a family to return to. A love story that never began. They all come here, carried by the same magic that makes people forget them.”

“That’s horrifying.”

“Yes. It is.”

“Look at the edges of their bodies. They’re fading away.”

I nodded, looking at the same cluster of people she was. “Remember what a broken soul looks like? That must be the equivalent of a forgotten soul.”

The marketplace was unlike anything I’d seen across countless realms. There were stalls filled with glass containers that glowed. Some that seemed to vibrate. Some were full of darkness and some, empty. A young woman, her edges softly blurred like a watercolor painting left in the rain, stood behind a table of delicate bottles. Her movements were whimsical anduncertain, as if she couldn’t quite remember how she’d gotten there or why she held the small pink bottle in her hands.

“Would you like to feel love again?” she asked, though her voice suggested she didn’t fully understand the question. She uncorked the bottle, and as the soft pink essence drifted out, the memory hit me with startling clarity, the nervous anticipation, the thundering heart, the tentative press of lips. Someone’s first kiss, preserved and bottled like fine wine and then forgotten all together.

Another vendor, an elderly man whose form flickered like a candle flame, cradled a jar that held golden sunlight. When he lifted the lid, the sound of children’s laughter and the scent of grass spilled into the air, carrying with it the pure joy of a perfect summer day. Each memory was a tangible thing here, stripped from those who’d been forgotten and traded like precious gems.

“What’s that?” Paesha asked, pointing to a shimmering cloth that seemed to catch light that didn’t exist.

“I…” The merchant’s brow furrowed. “I don’t quite remember. Something important. Something about… rising? Or was it falling?” She shook her head, confusion clouding her features. “Was I the one who rose? I like flowers.”

Paesha’s eyes narrowed before her shoulders stiffened. She’d seen herself in that broken woman. Had felt that kind of madness and it must have scared her. I led her forward, but her grasp on her Remnants had faltered. They’d seeped onto the ground around her feet, and I caught sight of a merchant eyeing them with too much interest.

“You need something to cover up,” I murmured, steering her toward a stall draped with fabrics that rippled like smoke.

Another elderly man, with dark skin as wrinkled as sun-dried leather, smiled vacantly. “Looking for something special?”

“A cloak,” I said, studying the options.

“A cloak from where?” he asked, then immediately looked confused by his own question.

I slipped my glasses off, watching the merchant’s vacant eyes focus on them with sudden interest. Something about the golden frames sparked recognition in his otherwise empty gaze.

“These should cover it,” I said, holding them out.

“Oh yes, very valuable. Very…” he trailed off, already forgetting what he was agreeing to. He handed over a cloak that absorbed the shadows around it. “I think I made this?”

“Wait,” Paesha said, her hand catching my wrist. “You need your glasses.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Before I could argue, she spun her back to the old man, swiped a scarf that rippled like liquid moonlight from the cart, and shoved it up her sleeve. Slowing her pace, she drew the old man’s attention again as she pointed. “What’s this one made of?”