Legacy of Arthur Leywin

Memory

The carriage rumbled over the uneven road, the steady clatter of its wheels doing little to ease the tension building between us. Sylvie sat across from me, her golden eyes staring out of the window, but I could feel her mind racing. She was always composed on the outside, but after spending so many years alongside her, I knew better. The air was heavy with unspoken thoughts, and it had been like that ever since Tessia died—just a year ago. Only a year, but it felt like an eternity.

We were on our way to New Zestier to meet Arthur, but things had changed between us. Not because of anything Sylvie or I had done, but because Arthur had locked us out. I still remembered the moment it happened, when his grief had overwhelmed him. He had built mental barriers, shutting off the connection that once bound the three of us. We could always sense each other, communicate through the bond we shared, but now... now we couldn't reach him. It was like he had vanished behind a wall of silence.

Sylvie finally broke that silence, her voice soft, filled with the weight of everything left unsaid. "How do you think he's doing?" she asked, still gazing out the window at the passing landscape.

I shifted in my seat, trying to find the right words. "It's hard to say," I replied, leaning back, my arms crossed over my chest. "He's always been the type to hide what he's really feeling. But losing Tessia... it's not something you just bounce back from."

Sylvie's lips tightened, and she turned to face me, her golden eyes filled with a deep, quiet pain. "He's been distant. Even more so than usual. I can barely feel him through the barriers."

I nodded. "Same here." I reached out mentally, pushing lightly against the invisible walls Arthur had built around his mind. As expected, I was met with cold, solid resistance. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get through.

"It's like he doesn't want us to see what he's going through," I muttered. "He's ashamed. He thinks we'll pity him, and that's the last thing he wants."

Sylvie sighed, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the fabric of her dress. "He doesn't understand that we don't care about his pride. We care about him." Her voice was thick with emotion, but she kept it in check, like always.

She had been with Arthur the longest, far longer than me. They had been through more together than I could ever know. She knew the deepest parts of him, and yet, even she couldn't break through the walls he'd put up.

"It's been a year, Regis," she continued, her voice quieter now. "One year since Tessia died, and he still hasn't let us in. How much longer can he keep going like this?"

Her question hung in the air, heavy and unsettling. How long, indeed? Arthur had faced countless enemies, fought wars that would break lesser men. But this—this grief—was unlike anything he'd faced before. Tessia had been his everything, his anchor. Losing her had torn him apart.

"I don't know," I admitted, running a hand through my hair. "But we can't just give up on him. He's still Arthur. He's still the guy who saved all of Dicathen, and he still has us. Even if he's too stubborn to realize it."

Sylvie nodded slowly, but her worry didn't fade. "I've tried reaching out to him... so many times," she whispered. "But every time, I hit that same wall. It's like he's slipping away, piece by piece."

Her words stung more than I wanted to admit. The idea of Arthur—Arthur, the man who had always fought to protect everyone—slipping away from us was terrifying. It wasn't just his grief. It was the way he was closing himself off from the world. From us. And if we couldn't reach him soon, I was afraid we might lose him for good.

I clenched my fists, frustration boiling up inside me. "We'll get through to him, Sylvie," I said, my voice firm. "He can't shut us out forever. We've been with him through everything—he's not going to push us away for good."