He was laughing when the memory opened.
Not the bitter, sharp laugh Elara associated with Jax as an enemy, but a younger, freer sound. It echoed off sun‑warmed stone, mingling with the clamor of training weapons and the distant ring of real steel in the Citadel's forges.
Elara found herself standing on an old balcony overlooking the inner courtyards—except she wasn't really there. Her body remained on the thorn‑platform, fingers wrapped around Kael's in the cradle‑void. Here, she was an observer. A ghost in someone else's recollection.
Jax leaned against the balcony's chipped railing, hair still more dark than silver, eyes bright with mischief. Beside him, Selena—sun‑skin, sea‑green eyes, healer's hands—pretended to scowl as she snatched back the apple he'd just plucked from her belt pouch.
"You can't keep stealing fruit from me," she said. "You'll get caught."
"I want to get caught." Jax bit into the reclaimed apple anyway, juices dripping down his fingers. "Then Varyn will be forced to admit his top trainee is starving and give me a proper lunch."
"Top trainee?" Selena lifted a brow. "Last I saw, Lira knocked you on your backside three times in a row."
From below, the clash of axes and grunts carried up. Younger Lira bellowed a curse as a practice dummy refused to stay upright.
"That was a fluke," Jax said loftily. "Her axe cheated."
Selena snorted, then leaned her elbows on the stone. For a moment they simply watched the courtyard below—young recruits sweating, instructors barking orders, the Citadel's white towers gleaming under midday sun. Jax's gaze softened.
"You really think we can change it?" he asked quietly. "All of this?"
Selena didn't hesitate.
"I know we can," she said. "We're Veilords, Jax. We're supposed to protect, not hoard. When we're elders, we'll open the gates, share crown‑lore, fix the rifts instead of plugging them with bodies."
His mouth twisted.
"If we live that long."
She bumped her shoulder against his.
"We will. And when we do, I'll make you eat something other than stolen apples and sarcasm."
"You like my sarcasm," he said, but the protest lacked force.
She smiled.
"I like you. Sarcasm is…part of the unfortunate bundle."
They laughed together, sound bright enough to hurt.
The memory skipped.
Blood. Screaming. Rift‑light.
The courtyard again, but wrong now. Cracked stones, charred banners, the sky split by a jagged tear bleeding shadow. Jax ran across the rubble, lungs on fire, Selena's name tearing from his throat.
He found her at the base of a toppled pillar.
The healer's green eyes were unfocused, staring at something beyond him. Her chest rose shallowly, each breath a battlefield.
"No," Jax whispered, dropping to his knees. Blood soaked his hands, hot and slick. "No, no, no. Don't you dare—"
"I…told you…" Selena's lips twitched, trying for a smile. "You'd get…caught. Stealing…fruit."
He choked on a laugh that wasn't a laugh.
"Stay with me," he pleaded. "You can fix this. You fix everyone."
Her hand lifted, trembling, to touch his cheek.
"Can't…fix…gods," she rasped. "Only…people."
His vision blurred. Somewhere, an instructor shouted orders. Somewhere, a child cried. Somewhere, the rift screamed.
"Then let me trade," Jax said hoarsely. "Take me instead. Take my—"
"Jax." Her fingers pressed against his lips, stopping the words. "Live. Change it. Or…at least…try."
Her hand fell.
The light went out of her eyes.
The memory rippled, breaking apart into shards of later moments: Jax alone in the catacombs, punching stone until his knuckles bled. Jax in the forbidden wing of the archives, reading by stolen glow‑stones, eyes red‑rimmed. Jax standing before the shattered fragment of an old crown, hearing whispers for the first time.
They let her die.
They'll let more die.
Take power. Take control. Fix it yourself.
Elara watched him bargain with shadows.
She watched him swallow his guilt down and call it resolve.
She watched him step, slowly and then more quickly, onto the path that would bring him against her.
The final image was not one she remembered witnessing in life.
Jax stood on a floating shard of rock in the void between veils. His body was gone—his echo shape raw, edges flickering. The fragments of a crown circled him, shards of gold stained black. His hands were empty.
He was speaking into the dark.
"I did what you said," he whispered. "I took the shards. I broke the chains. I tore the veils open so they'd have to change. So they'd stop hiding behind rules and titles while people like Selena died in the dirt."
Silence answered him.
He laughed, a broken sound.
"Turns out, I'm just another tyrant with better excuses, aren't I?"
The crown‑shards spun faster.
Jax's echo sagged.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Selena. Lira. Varyn. Elara. I'm—"
The memory snapped.