I’m sitting against the wall.

  I can feel that I’ve regained control of my body. My senses came back slowly, as if they weren’t entirely sure they wanted to stay.

  Carmen and Gabriel are beside me, seated against the wall as well. Both are breathing steadily. They look peaceful—like they’re in a deep sleep.

  A few meters away, I see Lorcan. He’s been sending messages and making calls since… since he decided to erase my friends’ memories.

  Lorcan erased their memories. He said they wouldn’t remember what happened. He once told me that his erasure was only for emergencies, and that it wasn’t always precise. How much did he erase? Will they still remember me?

  Because I do.

  I remember everything.

  I chose to remember a few days ago. Now, I don’t even get the option.

  Every so often, he glances in my general direction, as if checking that I’m still where he left me. It’s not like I have much desire—or energy—to leave anyway.

  He hasn’t spoken to me this entire time. I got my voice back a while ago, but I refuse to use it. I can’t.

  If I had to describe my emotional state right now, it would be this: furious.

  At last, Lorcan approaches me, slowly. He sits down beside me, still silent, keeping a careful distance. He checks his watch. Twice. Three times. Like he’s counting minutes.

  I watch him out of the corner of my eye until I can’t take it anymore.

  “Are you going to stare at that until time stops,” I say, steadier than I expected, “or are we going to talk?”

  Lorcan lowers his wrist. He doesn’t look at me. He sighs.

  “I’m waiting for the Council’s cleanup team,” he says. “And counting how long those two will be out.”

  “Those two are my friends, Gabriel and Carmen,” I reply. “And that’s not what I asked.”

  Silence.

  He looks straight at me now, with those damn golden eyes.

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  I clench my teeth. My head hurts. My chest hurts. Something else hurts—something I don’t have a name for.

  “Why did you do it?” I ask. “Why didn’t you erase me too?”

  Lorcan takes a moment to answer.

  “You chose to remember,” he says.

  The words land heavily between us.

  “That was before…” I say, barely.

  “You can’t regret a decision like that,” he replies, “not when there are consequences.”

  “Exactly,” I snap. “Those consequences are what I have a problem with. Now I have to watch my friends pay for something I chose.”

  Lorcan runs a hand over his face. He looks tired now.

  “I understand it was my choice,” I continue, “but if they have to pay the price too—”

  “I warned you,” he interrupts. “Knowing what you know doesn’t give you power. It takes it away. Erasing Carmen and Gabriel’s memories is what I should’ve done with you from the start. It’s how you prevent something worse.”

  I stare at him.

  “Explain it,” I say. “No detours. Not like I’m some mistake in your life—explain it to me like a friend. If you even know what that is.”

  I know I’m being harsher than necessary. I don’t apologize. Lorcan nods.

  “Once you cross the Threshold, there’s no going back,” he says. “I told you. My mother told you. I didn’t erase your memory in time—you started seeing things. You chose to remember.”

  He pauses, as if weighing what to say next.

  “I can barely protect you,” he continues. “Carmen and Gabriel going through the same thing as you, and letting them walk away with their memories? That wouldn’t just be one beacon anymore. It would be three. Three open windows. And worse—I still need to confirm whether they’ve already crossed the Threshold. Maybe you'll shine with your friends soon.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  My eyes widen. I hate that it makes sense.

  “Then erase me too,” I say.

  Lorcan looks straight at me. He seems exhausted.

  “Elena, no—”

  I take his hand and press it to my forehead.

  “Do it,” I say. “Free yourself from all your problems at once.” Desperately, I guide just two of his fingers to my forehead, the way I saw him do before. “Free my friends from having to deal with my beacon. I’m the problem, right? Erase me.”

  He doesn’t pull his hand away. He just looks at me, almost condescendingly. Tears slip out despite myself. Lorcan sighs.

  “It doesn’t work like that,” he says at last. “And we’ve discussed this before. I can’t rewrite memories—that’s why it’s only for emergencies.”

  “I don’t care. Do it.”

  “If I did it to you now, you’d forget the entire last week.”

  “A small price to pay.”

  “The entire week. Since the hill.”

  “Perfect for you, isn’t it?” I say bitterly. “You wouldn’t have to protect me from anything anymore.”

  Lorcan finally pulls his hand away.

  “I can’t do it.”

  “Can’t,” I ask softly, “or won’t?”

  Silence. The question hangs between us.

  Lorcan opens his mouth to answer—but is interrupted by the sound of two black vans pulling up in front of us. As soon as they stop, about eight people step out. They’re dressed in black and dark sunglasses, each with an earpiece in their left ear.

  Lorcan stands. The argument dies instantly. Operational mode.

  “We’ll talk later,” he says. “The Council is here.”

  Watching them move is almost hypnotic.

  They work in pairs. One pair inspects the metal door the possessed destroyed. Another pair reviews perimeter camera footage on a laptop. Another vacuums up the remaining ash where Lorcan destroyed the possessed.

  Within minutes, the shattered tempered glass is gone. The doorframe is repaired. An identical door is installed. To an untrained eye, nothing happened. The surrounding camera footage is edited—nothing out of the ordinary remains.

  These people are efficient.

  Then the pair that hadn’t been doing anything approaches us. Lorcan steps in front of them.

  “Weapon Kestrel,” one of them says. “Are these witnesses?”

  “They are,” Lorcan replies.

  One of the men in black studies us closely—lingers on me a second too long.

  “They require memory erasure,” he says.

  Memory erasure. These must be the professionals Lorcan and Elisabeth mentioned. So they’ve finally arrived. My stomach tightens.

  “I already handled it with an emergency wipe for each of them,” Lorcan says. “It won’t be necessary.”

  What is he saying? He’s clearly lying.

  “And her?” the man asks, almost pointing at me.

  “I agree,” I say.

  I stand, accepting my fate with what dignity I have left. Lorcan extends an arm, stopping me.

  “Elena, no—”

  “Fewer problems. For everyone,” I say. “Let’s just do it.”

  Lorcan clenches his fists.

  “Is this what you want?”

  “It was fun while it lasted,” I say. “But this is my decision.”

  Lorcan sighs. His expression looks like he just swallowed something unpleasant. He lowers his arm.

  “I request an analysis first,” he says to one of the agents.

  “I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

  “Do it anyway.”

  The men exchange glances. One extends his open palm toward me.

  “Don’t move, miss.”

  He closes his eyes. Instinctively, I close mine too. I feel a cold sensation at first—far too familiar—moving through my body, piece by piece, analyzing me. After a few seconds, warmth returns. I feel calm.

  Then—shock.

  I open my eyes. I see the man touching a ring on his hand. It looks very similar to the one Elisabeth gave me.

  “Lost cause,” he says.

  I don’t understand. Lorcan turns his head sharply.

  “What do you mean, lost cause?” I ask.

  “Your Threshold is far beyond our rewriting capabilities.”

  “Weapon negligence, I assume,” another adds.

  Lorcan coughs.

  “You’ve already seen too much,” one of them continues. “Rewriting your memories won’t be enough. Your energy is contaminated.”

  “We’ll escalate the report to the Council. They’ll decide what to do with you.”

  Cold sweat breaks out across my skin. Lost cause. Does that mean I can’t forget anymore? Why do Lorcan’s employers need to be involved?

  “Wait,” Lorcan says.

  He pulls out his phone and does… something. Instantly, the man in front of us checks his phone, startled.

  “I’m sure that’s enough to convince you to look the other way.”

  The second man checks his phone too. Same reaction.

  “I wasn’t about to let only your colleague walk away with something,” Lorcan adds. “Buy yourselves something nice.”

  The men exchange looks. One pulls out a folder and writes something down.

  “Full cleanup. Two witnesses. Sign here, please.”

  He hands Lorcan the clipboard and a pen. Lorcan signs without reading.

  The men in black give me one last intimidating look—then leave as quickly as they arrived.

  I don’t know how to react. Lorcan stands beside me, unable to meet my eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he says at last. “I’ve been hiding something from you.”

  Before I can demand an explanation, a muffled groan cuts through the air. Then another. Carmen and Gabriel are waking up. Everything else freezes. There’s still a protocol to follow.

  Lorcan tells them a lie.

  It’s clumsy, arrogant, and ridiculously specific—so specific it becomes believable. An accident. A runaway car. Carmen as the victim, Gabriel saving her, both injured anyway. I nod along or fill in details when needed.

  They’re my friends—confused, shaken. Right now, lying is the only medicine they have.

  Gabriel insists he’s fine, even as Lorcan—playing the role of magnate—offers all his resources. Carmen wears the expression I know well: something doesn’t add up. But exhaustion wins, and she doesn’t push it.

  We take them both to Carmen’s apartment on the outskirts of the city.

  “Should we connect later?” I ask.

  Carmen and Gabriel look confused.

  “For what?” Gabriel asks.

  “For recording the horror story…”

  “But you said you didn’t want to do it,” Carmen says.

  “And I think no podcast for me today,” Gabriel adds. “Everything still hurts.”

  He’s right. I only agreed to help once they agreed to stay with me. I’d forgotten.

  Or rather—they forgot, and I’m the one still remembering things that never happened.

  The drive back to the mansion is silent.

  I think about a lot of things.

  About how tired I am.

  About how easy it was to lie.

  And about how well it worked.

  Some memories refuse to let go.