The Echoes of Forgotten

"You--" Elara began, her voice rising with fury, but he crossed the room in long, purposeful strides.
Before she could shout, the man's rough hand clamped over her mouth.
"Quiet, you fool," he hissed, his voice low but sharp, like a blade slicing through the tension.
Struggling against his grip, Elara glared at him with burning intensity, but it wasn't enough to even make him flinch. His silver-grey hair, tousled by the howling wind outside, framed sharp and angular features that for Elara were irritatingly familiar to her. His nose, straight and refined, mirrored a shape she was used to seeing on a regular basis. Unlike the other thugs, his attire was polished- a dark tunic under a tailored black coat, paired with fitted trousers. It was a stark contrast to the chaos around him, making him look more like a gentleman caught in the wrong place than someone belonging to this group.
The commotion outside began to fade, the voices growing distant, but his gaze flickered to the door repeatedly as though expecting someone to burst in. His stoic mask betrayed no fear, yet his movements were hurried, deliberate.
"Keep your voice down, will you? You'll get us both killed." the man said, his tone as cold as his gaze.
His warning did nothing to stop Elara's struggle but only made her anger bubble over. Only when he added, "They'll be back soon, and I don't have time or patience to explain every single thing to you," did she stop, her reluctant nod granting her temporary freedom.
The man lowered his hand, relief washing over his face and without wasting a moment, he reached into his coat and pulled out a dagger. The silver blade gleamed even in the dim light, intricate carvings running along its surface.
"What are you-" Elara began, but his sharp gaze silenced her.
He knelt beside her, cutting at the ropes on her right arm, and then the ones holding her waist in place. Elara's mind raced, torn between fury and confusion. The moment he stepped back from her, leaving only the ropes on her left hand, Elara immediately freed herself from the remaining bindings and lunged at him, grabbing him by the collar.
"You-" she hissed, her voice venomous.
The man didn't react. His focus remained on the door, his posture tense.
"Are you happy now?" she demanded, her voice low but shaking with restrained rage. "Making me look like this? Making me go through all this?"
This time, his gaze shifted to hers, fierce and unyielding. "It's your foolishness that put you in this situation," he snapped, his words sharp enough to cut. "What were you even doing in that warehouse? You should had informed me before doing something reckless like that!"
"Huh! Don't act ignorant. You know really well what I was doing in that warehouse. And what did you say? Inform you? You?!" Her voice rose, though she fought to keep it from carrying. "It's been five years, Riven!" She spat his name like it was poison. "Have you ever asked what I was up to? You came barging my door twice in these five years, just to topple my world upside down-" Her voice had turned into a bare whisper now, full of emotions she couldn't tell anyone or rather, no one was interested to know. "And, wasn't it you who sent those goons after me? Now you act-"
Riven's jaw clenched, a flicker of exasperation flashing in his dead eyes. "If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't be here, risking my life to help you."
She scoffed, her grip on his collar tightening. "Help me? You're working for that man, too! You were the only one who knew I was in that warehouse. You were the only one who found me there! So, tell me, what the hell were you doing there? Even now, you only came to make sure those people won't actually see my face. You are scared they'll think we are related somehow, seeing how we look alike-"
Riven raised a hand, signaling her to stop. His attention snapped back to the door as distant voices grew louder, approaching rapidly.
"We don't have time," he said, his voice urgent. He grabbed her shoulders, his grip firm but not harsh but she still winced from the pain coming from somewhere on the back of her shoulder.. it felt distant but there. "You need to run."
She glared at him, unmoving.
"Run toward the denser jungle," he instructed, thrusting the dagger into her hand. "Hide there. I'll distract them... Listen, I can't afford to be found as a traitor, not yet. I need to learn more."
Her piercing gaze didn't waver, her mistrust evident.
"Elara, I'll explain everything, but later," he said, his voice softening for the first time. "If you don't move now, they'll find us both."
Elara hesitated her grip on the dagger tightening. The voices outside were coming closer by every second, but she wanted answers.
"I am here to find him too," he finally said, his voice though steady had a hint of something Elara was not familiar with- no, she couldn't be bothered by it- all her attention was now on his words. "I found out that it was his last mission before his supposed death, I don't know where you got the information and how much but I don't want you to be here, this place is dangerous... I'll find him for you, I promise. Trust me just this once, okay?"
Her resolve faltered, her gaze flickering with something unspoken. Finally, she relented, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can never trust you, Riven. But... I'll do leave for now."
With that, she turned and slipped out into the shadows of the jungle. Taking advantage of the dark, she limped away from the voices that were coming dangerously close, each step sending a jolt of pain through her side. Her breath came in sharp, frantic bursts as she pushed through the dense jungle, her body burning with pain and exhaustion. But she didn't dare slow down, even as the foliage clawed at her arms and legs, leaving stringing scratches on her already blooded sleeves and pants.
Every time Elara glanced over her shoulder, she saw nothing but shifting shadows, no sign of any pursuer. Riven had kept his word, but what would happen of him now? Will they take him as a traitor, or will he slither his way out of this too? "You should see him act sometime Elara, this man can slither his way out of any situation with a casual face!" The word spoke in mind like a distant memory, but she shook her mind to get them out of there.
Now that she was out of that cottage, away from those brutes and the gazes that kept scanning her body like hyenas, the memories from the past few days, the last few days kept swirling in her mind like a whirlwind. She couldn't make sense of them all, each one tangled with the next like an unraveling thread. Riven. That name twisted like a knife inside her chest, causing her to stumble over her own feet. He had been there like a shadow every time she didn't want him to be, but when she needed him there, he kept his distance. He was the one who coldly crushed her hope every time she tried anything.
Her breath hitched as she recalled that moment, the last time she actually talked to him face to face—Riven's face, cold as stone, as he spoke those words, "Kaelion- your brother is no more." No hint of emotion, not even a flicker of sympathy or sadness for her loss. Not even a glance of concern. It had been like talking about the weather. Casual. Indifferent. How could he be like that? How could he not care when Kael had been like a brother to him?
Elara had believed in him, trusted him—up until that moment. After that day, there was nothing left between them but silence.
But now, after everything, Riven was back. And he was going to help her. To find Kael? When he so brutely announced his death to her? Why? Why now, after all these years of lies? Why was he offering a lifeline now, when she was at her lowest, trapped in the jungle with no one else to turn to? She didn't know if she could trust him. She didn't know if she could ever trust him again.
Something pricked at her mind, and she halted with a jolt. In his attempts to make her leave, Riven had said something suspicious: "his supposed death." What did he mean by that? Could it be that he was actually alive? Could it be she wasn't chasing ghosts but was on the right track all along?
She moved again with renewed power this time, as if all her previous fatigue and pain were nothing but an illusion as if all she went through in the last five years was nothing, but a nightmare and she is finally stirring awake from it. She couldn't stop now. She had to keep going, for Kael's sake.
"He is alive," Elara told herself, her breathing heavy, but not with fatigue.
He was alive. Her brother, the one she had believed to be dead for two long years, was still out there. She had to find him. She would find him. No matter what.
Elara ran until her legs burned with exhaustion until the aches from the injuries and the pain of running without rest took over. She ran until the fact that her body was on the brink of collapse became more and more apparent to her. She ran, until the jungle around her grew tenser, the trees towering above her, their thick trunks blocking out much of the light. She had no idea where she was going, only that she had to keep moving. She ran until her vision began to blur, the world tilted, and the ground beneath her feet seemed to shift.
The pain in her head intensified, her skull feeling as though it was splitting in two. She staggered, struggling to keep her footing, but the forest seemed to close on her, the shadows creeping along her body, suffocating her.
Then, she collapsed.
Her knees hit the rough ground mercilessly, sending a jolt of pain up her spine. She gasped, the breath rushing out of her. Her hands were numb as the dagger she had gripped so tightly slipped from her fingers, the heavy metallic object falling with a soft thud on the ground beside her. It was eerily quiet, the only sound the faint ringing in her ears. The dagger shone faintly, its metallic surface reflecting what little light managed to pierce the thick canopy overhead.
Elara's surroundings were unnervingly dark and silent. The kind of silence that pressed in on you, wrapping around your chest, squeezing the air from your lungs. She didn't have the strength to care. Her mind was a whirlwind of memories, each one breaking through her consciousness in rapid succession.
She was 18 again, sitting stiffly in the family sitting room. The curtains were drawn, dimming the light, though she could still see the elaborate details of the space—the plush armchairs, the polished table, and the rows of bookshelves framing the walls. A single letter trembled in her hands, its neat script betraying the calm, reassuring tone of her elder brother, Kaelion.
Her turquoise eyes scanned the words again, though she already knew them by heart:

"Elara, by the time you read this, I'll be gone. It's a mission—one I can't explain. I know you'll hate me for it, but trust me when I say it's important. Please, don't worry. Just live normally until I return. You've always been stronger than you think, and I need you to hold onto that strength. For me."

Her fingers tightened around the paper, crumpling its edges. The weight of the letter pressed against her chest, constricting her breaths as tears welled in her eyes.
On one side, the walls were decorated with memories—pictures that captured fleeting moments of joy. Most were of her and Kael, their bond evident in every shared laugh and mischievous smile. Her icy black locks stood in stark contrast to his unkempt silverish-blue hair, though their identical turquoise eyes, the only similarity in them, reflected the same spirit.
One picture drew her gaze: a family portrait taken when she was only 8. Her younger self grinned brightly, her small hand gripping Kael's sleeve as he stood tall and confident beside her. Though they had a ten-year age difference, their bond was closer than the children born at the same time-twins. Their father stood behind them and she could see the grown-up Kael in him, from his silverish blue hair to his facial features, from his calm demeanor to their confident gazes. Their mother on the other side, elegant and serene with pale lavender hair and eyes, rested a hand on Elara's shoulder. Elara had inherited her mother's facial features but with her father's color combination.
It was a portrait of a happy family—a life that felt like a distant dream now.
Her reverie was broken by a quiet shift of movement. Across the room, Riven sat in a chair, silent and stoic. His casual attire—a simple jacket and jeans— though, felt out of place in the fancy room but matched the mood. But then, Riven had always been an anomaly, a shadow in her life. He had been Kael's partner for four years, a trusted ally who somehow remained a stranger to her.
The man looked more like the woman in the big family portrait than the two kids with her and it always unsettled her. She used to think and hope for this man to be her brother but his indifference and cold attitude toward her these last four years of knowing him had taught her differently.
"Where is he?" Elara asked, hoping to get a different answer than the letter.
"I don't know," he replied in a tone of indifference.
"You were his partner," Elara tried again, her voice trembling as she turned to face him. "How can you not know where he's gone? How long he'll be away?"
Riven didn't look up, his violet-grey eyes fixed on a spot just beyond her. He shrugged, the motion irritatingly casual. "That's what they call a secret mission. No one can know."
Her jaw tightened, and her grip on the letter grew fiercer. "What am I supposed to do now?" she demanded, her voice rising in frustration. "He's left me all alone!"
She thought she saw a flicker of something in Riven's expression—a crack in his cold mask—but it was gone as quickly as it came.
"He must have written that in his letter too," Riven replied evenly. "What you're supposed to do until he comes back."
Elara's lips parted in a bitter laugh. "He told me to live normally. How can I live normally without him? How can he expect me to—"
Riven cut her off, standing abruptly. His hands slipped into his pockets as he turned his back to her. "Do exactly what he said," he said, his tone firmer now. "Practice daily. Eat on time. Study hard. Go out with your friends. That way, when he comes back, he won't fuss over you."
His voice was steady, but he avoided her gaze, his profile betraying a tension she rarely saw in him.
Elara stared at him, her emotions churning. For four years, this man had been a constant presence, always distant, always cold. His features—so similar to her own, with their sharp lines and cool detachment—reminded her of herself more than her actual brother. Yet she could never bring herself to see him as family.
Riven hesitated before adding, "If you need anything... or if someone bothers you... call me."
His words caught her off guard, and before she could process them, he turned on his heel and left the room, leaving her alone with the letter and the suffocating silence.