Not a Damsel in Distress!

Silence, again.

But this time, it felt different.

Samantha sat on the velvet cushion, spine tall, eyes closed, body still. The temple no longer loomed like a mystery. It felt more like a memory. A song half-forgotten but still tucked into muscle and marrow.

The air around her pulsed gently—warm, alive, ancient. No longer threatening, but expectant. As if the room itself had been holding its breath, waiting for her return.

A sigh escaped her lips. Her fingers unclenched from fists she didn't realize she'd been holding. The pendant rested quietly against her chest, cool again. Watching. Waiting.

Her mind wandered—not in that frantic, spiraling way—but slow. Steady. Sinking beneath the surface of conscious thought. She leaned into it, heart hesitant, but curious.

And then—

The memories began.

A laugh. A child's laugh, echoing through golden halls. The scent of firewood and rain-soaked stone. Soft hands guiding hers as she traced symbols into sand. A voice, whispering an old name—hers, but not "Samantha."

She blinked, the vision pressing against her skin like warmth from sunlight.

A figure stood in her mind—tall, regal, cloaked in something woven from stars. Around her, others knelt. Waiting. Listening. A ritual took place. Words in a language Samantha didn't understand slipped from her own lips.

Power surged beneath her skin.

Then—

Nothing.

The warmth unraveled. Her breath hitched.

Her eyes flew open.

She gripped the pendant.

"Who was that?" she whispered. "Who was I?"

No answer. Just the hum.

Just the weight of what she wasn't supposed to remember.

---

Elsewhere…

Ron sat at the edge of the hall, elbows on his knees, fingers knotted in his sleeves. His foot bounced restlessly against the polished stone floor.

She was still gone.

"They said she's fine," he muttered. "Just... processing."

Alaric hadn't said much else. Just that Samantha needed time. That she was safe.

But Ron didn't feel safe. Not without her.

He stood, paced, then sat again. His hands trembled slightly. He shoved them into the pocket of his hoodie and looked up at the tall arched windows. Moonlight streamed in like judgment.

Everyone here seemed to belong. They knew things. Felt things. Walked through these halls like they'd lived in them a hundred times.

He didn't. He felt like an outsider in someone else's story.

"She has a destiny," he whispered. "And I have... nothing."

The words burned more than he expected.

He stood once more, approaching a wooden door carved with symbols he didn't recognize. Her door.

He reached out—almost knocked—then paused.

What could he even say? "Hey, want me to fix the existential crisis thing?"

He let his hand fall.

"Please be safe. No matter what, Sam."

---

Inside the sacred chamber…

"Come, child. You have much to learn."

The voice swept through her again, curling around her like mist. It wasn't coming from the air. It came from within her. Like a thought she didn't think. A memory that wasn't hers.

She stood slowly, unsure if she was walking or being guided.

But then—

The pendant burned.

Not warm. Not comforting. Hot. Blinding. Terrifying.

A gasp tore from her throat. She doubled over, clutching it.

Light poured from her chest, pale and wild, casting her shadow against the chamber walls. Symbols around her began to glow—pulsing in time with her racing heart.

She stumbled, knees buckling, breath rasping.

The ground quivered beneath her. The torches lining the room flared, then vanished. Only the pendant's light remained.

Flashes. Searing. Violent.

Blood-soaked robes. Screams in a language she almost understood. Stone steps slick with rain. A child reaching out for her. A betrayal carved into her ribs.

Her voice screamed in her ears:

"No—stop—please—"

The golden light surged. She fell to her hands and knees.

"I fear… you're not ready yet."

The voice cracked. It wasn't harsh—it was afraid.

Her chest heaved. The weight of a thousand forgotten moments dragged at her spine.

Her eyes rolled back.

"To reclaim yourself… you must confront what broke you."

The pendant flared—one final time.

And then—

Darkness.

---

Later…

They found her lying still on the cold stone floor. Curled around the pendant. Pale. Unconscious.

Someone lifted her gently, arms steady beneath her back. She didn't stir.

When she was laid in bed, the covers drawn up to her shoulders, her hand never released the chain.

Hours passed.

The moon rose higher.

And then—

Her eyes opened.

Slow. Heavy. But sure.

She remembered.

Not piece by piece. Not like a puzzle.

Like a flood. A dam breaking.

Like her soul had been holding its breath for centuries—and finally exhaled.

A sob trembled at the back of her throat, but she didn't make a sound.

She simply stared at the ceiling. Letting it all in. Letting it all drown her.

What she had done. What had been done to her.

Who she had been.

And who she was now.

Tears slid down her cheeks. Quiet. Unstoppable.

She touched the pendant again.

And whispered—

"I remember… but I don't know if I can handle it."