Signed in Ash

Tobias stared at the sealed scroll, its wax crest gleaming in the candlelight — the mark of the Covenant of Ash stamped deep into crimson wax, like a wound that never fully closed.

His stomach twisted. The Covenant was a relic. A horror. A warning. And now it stood between him and Evie, a shadow threatening everything they’d fought for. He could almost feel Evie slipping away from him, her laughter fading into silence, her warmth turning cold beneath his fingers — just as Sorien had for Elara.

“You should read it,” the old archivist said softly, setting a small silver device beside the scroll. It shimmered faintly — a lens etched with runes, thrumming with quiet, ancient magic.

Tobias’s throat tightened. “I thought the Covenant records were just contracts.”

The archivist shook his head, voice low. “No. The Accord demands more than signatures. Before the final sealing, the petitioner’s final thoughts are harvested — a soul transcription. A last confession. It’s why kingdoms outlawed the practice centuries ago. Too many souls broken beneath the weight of someone else’s salvation. Royals weaponised it, entire bloodlines erased to secure thrones. It nearly tore this world apart.”

He let the words settle like dust in the heavy air.

“Their memories. Their hopes. The pieces of themselves they couldn’t bear to speak aloud. The Covenant takes even that. What you’re about to witness...” He gestured to the Lens, voice almost reverent now.

“...is her private diary of surrender, transcribed as the Covenant recorded it.”

The Witness Lens pulsed beneath Tobias’s fingers, like a second heartbeat, slow and deliberate.

Magic pricked along his spine, ancient and unfamiliar, recognising the soul-thread binding Elara and Sorien — and the echo now binding him to Evie.

This wasn’t simply a record.

It was a tether. A living echo.

The moment the connection took hold, Elara's memories rose like smoke. Grief poured through him — sharp, staggering — as if her ribs had become his own, as if her breaking heart pulsed inside his chest.

Tobias gritted his teeth against the ache, the sharp inhale that nearly unmade him.

And then...Elara’s diary began.

#

THE COVENANT OF ASH:

Final Memory Extraction — Petitioner Record 742-B

Retrieved under Witness Lens authorisation.

BEGIN RECORD:

Binding Contract 742-B / Petition of Soul Preservation

WHEREAS: The Petitioner, Elara of House Myrrin, enters willingly into Covenant, beseeching the Accord of Ash for intercession in the imminent dissolution of Subject: Sorien of the Velis Drift.

WHEREAS: The Petitioner acknowledges full awareness of consequence, and proceeds without coercion or recourse.

She had read the words a hundred times before signing.

Because rereading them made it feel like maybe — just maybe — she was still choosing. That she had some small say left in what was already lost.

As the ink bled across parchment etched with sigils older than any kingdom, she forced her hand to remain steady — the last thing still hers to control.

But her chest ached — sharp, shallow breaths catching like splinters in her lungs. The weight of unshed tears pressed behind her eyes.

Only when her knuckles whitened did she realise how tight her grip had become, her fingers trembling despite every effort to still them — as though her body was trying, and failing, to hold on to him one last time.

The healers had called it soul-rot. The priests whispered of curses. The High Mages debated ancient lines of fault and fate. But none could save Sorien.

And so Elara had come here — to the Covenant’s chamber beneath the black vaults, where mercy was measured in blood and priced in pieces of oneself.

The chamber smelled of burnt parchment and old iron, like history had been charred into its bones. She wondered how many had stood here before her. How many hearts had cracked beneath these same cold walls.

#

CLAUSE I: INTENTION

The Petitioner hereby offers all due sacrifice in exchange for the stabilisation and preservation of the Subject’s soul essence.

She swallowed, throat dry as ash. I am willing.

#

CLAUSE II: INITIAL FORFEITURES

The Petitioner consents to the permanent relinquishment of her standing within House Myrrin, to forfeit any claim of title, lineage, or inheritance. This clause is immediate and irrevocable.

Her name would be stripped from the ledgers before dawn. Her mother would disown her before the ink dried. But none of it mattered.

Sorien would live.

That was all that mattered.

#

CLAUSE III: MEMORIAL FORFEITURE

The Petitioner consents to the full dissolution of formative memories connected to Subject Sorien of the Velis Drift.

This includes, but is not limited to:

— The moment of first meeting.

— The initial declaration of intent or affection.

— All associated sensory imprints therein.

Emotional residue shall remain, detached from narrative context. This clause is permanent, binding, and not subject to appeal.

Elara read the words once. Then twice. But the lines blurred at the edges, like her mind was already trying to shield her from what she was about to lose.

She wouldn’t remember the night beneath the storm-split sky when Sorien first reached for her hand — how his fingers threaded through hers like he was anchoring himself to something he was terrified to want. She wouldn’t remember the tremble in his touch, the fragile hope in his eyes.

She wouldn’t remember the way his voice softened when he whispered her name like a secret only they shared. The warmth of his breath against her ear. The shape of his smile, half-hidden in the dark.

She wouldn’t remember how they laughed until their ribs ached when he’d clumsily tried to braid her hair — all thumbs and hopeless knots — and how she had secretly loved how his tongue peeked out at the corner of his mouth when he concentrated, determined to get it right.

She wouldn’t remember the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek, steady and sure in a way that made the world feel safe.

All of it — unmade, like breath stolen by the wind.

And yet, some echo of him would remain. Enough to ache. Enough to haunt.

Even stripped of every fragile beginning, the hollow space where love had once lived would still pulse inside her ribs — without memory, without reason, but there all the same.

I will still love you, she thought. Even when I cannot remember why.

Even when I forget his voice, his hands, his breath against my skin — I will still love him. Even when I no longer know how.

The Covenant’s scribe did not pause. The clause hissed as fire-ink consumed the parchment, the sigils humming softly, as if the parchment itself mourned what had been taken.

#

CLAUSE IV: VOCALITY RESTRICTION

The Petitioner acknowledges immediate forfeiture of verbal and written invocation of Subject Sorien's name.

Attempted violation shall result in destabilisation of cognitive integrity and progressive neurological erosion.

This clause is binding for the natural duration of the Petitioner’s existence.

This one cut sharper than she had braced for.

Her mouth opened, as if to test the weight of his name one last time — but thinking it sent a cold pulse through her skull. The Covenant's magic had reached into her bones.

His name — the syllables that once tasted like honeyed breath on winter air — was locked behind glass walls she could no longer touch.

What was love, if not saying their name in the small, quiet moments? Whispering it half-asleep. Letting it fill the air between two hearts. She would lose even that.

She could not speak him. Not to others. Not to herself.

In time, even her dreams would grow silent.

The scribe waited for her quill. She signed with a hand that barely trembled, the muscles in her jaw clenched to hold back the sob that threatened to break free.

This is still worth it, she reminded herself. You will live.

#

CLAUSE V: COVENANT SUPREMACY

The Petitioner hereby cedes all present and future autonomy to the Covenant of Ash.

This includes but is not limited to:

— The right to amend or revoke existing clauses.

— The right to impose additional terms at the Covenant’s discretion.

— The right to reallocate, consume, or terminate the Petitioner’s remaining magical essence should unforeseen consequence arise.

This clause is absolute and eternal.

For the first time, Elara hesitated.

Not because she questioned the price — that doubt had long since drowned beneath the weight of love — but because the final threads of herself were slipping beyond reach. There would be no path back. No quiet reversal. No hidden loophole.

The Covenant would own whatever remained — her life, her magic, her future.

She had once dreamed of what that future might hold: nights wrapped in Sorien’s arms, the warmth of his laughter in their halls, the children who might bear both their names.

Of hearing his voice in the kitchen every morning — not grand declarations, but the quiet, ordinary way he said her name when handing her coffee, still half-asleep.

Of small, stupid arguments about nothing — who burned the bread, who left the door open — the tiny fights they never got to have, in the kitchen they never got to share, in the home they never got to build. Arguments that only mattered because they were safe. Because they were theirs. Of growing old with him in the quiet comfort of ordinary days.

Now, even the names would vanish.

Her hand wavered beneath the weight of the quill.

Her pulse hammered in her ears, as if every heartbeat begged her to stop — to turn back before there was nothing left.

I was never promised forever, she thought. Only the chance to love him once.

The sigils ignited as the ink dried, sealing her fate in flame.

#

CLAUSE VI: EMOTIONAL DISSOLUTION OF SUBJECT

In order to stabilise Subject Sorien’s soul integrity, all conscious, subconscious, and ethereal recollections of the Petitioner shall be eradicated from Subject’s cognitive construct.

Emotional ties will be fully severed to prevent destabilisation. The Subject will awaken with no memory, imprint, or residual bond connected to the Petitioner.

Any residual fragments discovered shall be neutralised automatically by the Covenant of Ash.

Elara’s vision blurred.

This was the price she had not spoken aloud — not even to herself — though she had known it from the moment she stepped into the black vaults.

He would live.

But not with her. Not even with the memory of her.

He would wake to morning light that never knew her. He would fall asleep never feeling the warmth beside him where she once fit. And he would never know the space where she should have been.

If they ever passed one another again — if fate was cruel enough to cross their paths — he would not even feel the hollow where she once belonged.

To Sorien, there would be no Elara of House Myrrin. No stolen glances across forbidden halls. No whispered oaths beneath moonlit arches. No love that defied the Accord’s cruel divisions.

He would wake to a world where she had never existed. And he would smile, unburdened.

Tears slipped silently down her cheeks, burning hot as they fell onto the parchment. The Covenant’s scribe said nothing — they never did.

Her fingers hovered above the final space, where her name would be signed one last time.

The quill felt heavier now, like it knew what she was giving away.

You’ll never remember me, but I’ll spend every breath remembering you.

Better you live free… even if it means you forget I ever loved you.

Her throat burned as the words stayed locked behind her teeth, unsaid forever.

The quill met parchment.

The clause flared, burning through the last threads of what had been hers — until even memory turned to ash.

The Covenant of Ash locked another piece of her away.

#

CLAUSE VII: FINAL AFFIRMATION

The Petitioner affirms full comprehension of all aforementioned clauses and submits consent without reservation, coercion, or recourse.

This Covenant shall hold for the duration of natural existence and all extensions thereof.

The Covenant of Ash acknowledges full receipt of sacrifice. Petitioner: Erased.

Elara no longer read the words.

There was no need.

She had signed every part of herself away already. This was only the closing of the door.

The ink on her fingertips felt heavier than steel. The weight of what she had chosen pressed into her lungs, sharp and breathless.

Her world had narrowed to a single truth: he would live.

Her name — what little remained of it — bled beneath the final clause, the quill scratching across parchment like a blade dragged over raw skin.

As her signature sealed, the Covenant burned gold, the parchment curling, crumbling — until only ash and silence remained.

It was done.

And somewhere far above, in some distant room untouched by ash and ink, Sorien took his first breath again.

Unburdened.

Free.

And utterly without her.

#

COVENANT OBSERVATIONAL RECORD

Subject: Sorien of the Velis Drift — Status: Stabilised.

Soul Integrity: Fully restored.

Memory Integrity: Purged.

Emotional State: Unburdened.

Petitioner: Null.

#

The final clause burned into silence.

The air thickened, heavy with what had been lost.

Tobias swallowed hard, Evie’s face rising in his mind — the stubborn set of her jaw when she argued, the softness in her eyes when they were alone.

He could see her standing in Elara’s place, the price settling beneath his sternum, sharp as heartbreak and just as merciless.

The weight of her sacrifice pressed deeper, sinking like lead into his chest. For the first time, he feared the world they were up against might demand that same price.

And if it came to Evie, he didn’t know if he could survive what Elara had endured.

The Witness Lens pulsed once, the magic unravelling. The tether snapped. Light dimmed, breath rushed back into his lungs as the chamber reformed around him — stone and shadow and stale candle smoke.

He staggered back a step, breath catching sharp in his chest.

“You understand now,” the archivist said softly, his voice catching slightly as he glanced away, as though weighed down by memories of his own. “No one ever truly does... until it’s too late.”

Tobias couldn’t answer. The words lodged too deep.

His fingers curled tighter around the edge of the parchment, the ancient vellum thin as brittle bone beneath his grip. A tear split along the corner, the fragile fibres giving way with a soft crack that sounded far too loud in the quiet chamber. The scroll trembled in his hands—not from the age of the paper, but from the tremor running through him.

The Covenant’s hand had already severed one soul-thread before him.

It would not take his. Not this time. Not her. Not while he still had breath to fight.

But as he stood there — heart pounding, hands shaking — he made himself a vow.

Evie’s laughter wouldn’t fade into silence. Her warmth wouldn’t turn cold beneath his fingers — not like Sorien’s had for Elara.

He would not let them take her name. Her soul. Her life.

He would not lose Evie.