The Draconian Woman. Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter twenty-nine – The army of memories

The forgotten timeline had awakened.

Across the silver valley, thousands of figures stood beneath the three crimson moons.

They had come from different worlds, different civilizations, and different moments in history.

Some wore armor.

Some carried books.

Some carried instruments.

Some carried nothing at all.

There were healers from Pleiades, navigators from Orion, scholars from Sirius, travelers from distant Draco colonies, and descendants of civilizations Serakha had never heard of.

They were not an army in the traditional sense.

They had no banners.

No commander.

No battle formation.

They simply stood together.

And somehow...

that was more frightening than an army.

Emma looked across the enormous gathering.

"So..."

She paused.

"Who exactly is in charge?"

Everyone looked at Serakha.

Serakha looked at everyone.

Then she looked at Emma.

"I was afraid you would ask that."

"I ask important questions."

"You asked whether the magical birds could find the light switch."

"It was an important question."

Arin walked toward them.

He looked older than the boy Serakha remembered, but his eyes were exactly the same.

"You don't need a commander."

Serakha turned toward him.

"Why?"

"Because commanders tell people what to do."

He looked toward the gathering.

"These people already know why they are here."

Serakha considered this.

"Then what am I?"

Arin smiled.

"The person who reminds them."

"Of what?"

"Of who they are."

The words settled over the valley.

Then a sound came from the sky.

A long, low vibration.

The crimson moons trembled.

The stars disappeared.

A vast black formation moved across the heavens.

Emma looked upward.

"I assume those are not friendly."

"No," said the Guardian.

"Those are the Erasers."

Serakha watched the sky.

There were thousands of them.

They moved silently through the darkness, each carrying a silver Quill of Unmaking.

But something was different.

They were not attacking.

They were surrounding the valley.

The First Author appeared beside Serakha.

"They are afraid."

Serakha looked surprised.

"Of us?"

"No."

"Of what you remembered."

The lead Eraser descended.

Its feet touched the ground without making a sound.

Its body was almost human now.

Its face was still difficult to remember, but Serakha could see something beneath the shifting darkness.

Eyes.

Tired eyes.

Ancient eyes.

The creature raised its Quill.

The people behind Serakha became silent.

Then the Eraser spoke.

This time its words remained.

"You cannot restore what was lost."

Serakha stepped forward.

"Perhaps not."

"You cannot return the dead."

"No."

"You cannot reverse time."

"No."

"You cannot rebuild the first world."

Serakha looked toward the three crimson moons.

"No."

The Eraser tilted its head.

"Then why continue?"

Serakha smiled.

"Because you made one mistake."

"What mistake?"

"You thought we were trying to bring back the past."

She raised the Pen.

"We are building something new."

The Eraser's Quill began to glow.

A wave of white energy spread across the valley.

People disappeared.

Not physically.

Their memories began fading.

A woman suddenly forgot her brother.

A young man forgot his home.

An old scholar forgot the language he had spent centuries preserving.

Emma looked around in horror.

"Serakha!"

Serakha felt it happening to her too.

The name Arin began slipping from her mind.

She knew he was important.

She knew she loved him.

But she could no longer remember why.

Arin reached for her.

"Look at me."

Serakha stared at him.

"Who are you?"

His expression broke.

"I'm your brother."

The words reached her.

But the meaning vanished.

Then Liora shouted,

"Remember the promise!"

Serakha turned.

"What promise?"

"You told me you would come back!"

Something inside Serakha moved.

Not memory.

Emotion.

The feeling arrived before the image.

A hand holding hers.

A silver tree.

Three moons.

A child crying.

A promise.

She closed her eyes.

"I promised."

The Pen became brighter.

Across the valley, people began speaking.

"I remember my mother."

"I remember my home."

"I remember why I came."

"I remember."

The Eraser stepped backward.

Serakha opened her eyes.

The golden light from the Pen spread across the valley.

But this time it did not come from Serakha alone.

Every person who remembered something contributed a tiny spark.

One memory.

One face.

One name.

One song.

One promise.

The sparks joined.

The valley became a sea of golden light.

The Erasers raised their Quills.

The First Author whispered,

"Now."

Serakha understood.

She lifted the Pen.

"Everyone..."

She looked at the people gathered around her.

"...tell one story."

Emma stared.

"Right now?"

"Right now."

"What kind?"

"Any story."

Emma thought for half a second.

Then stepped forward.

"When I was six years old, I tried to teach my cat how to dance."

Serakha blinked.

"That is your story?"

"It's an excellent story."

"What happened?"

"The cat refused."

Emma folded her arms.

"Very rude."

A little boy from Sirius laughed.

Then he told a story about getting lost in a library.

A Pleiadian healer told a story about her first patient.

An Orionian navigator told a story about accidentally landing on the wrong moon.

A Draco elder told a story about learning to fly.

A human woman told a story about her grandmother's kitchen.

A young hybrid boy told a story about being afraid that he didn't belong anywhere.

One by one...

the stories filled the valley.

The Erasers stood motionless.

Their Quills began losing their light.

The First Author smiled.

"Of course."

Serakha looked at her.

"What?"

"They can erase memories."

"But they cannot erase a memory being created."

Serakha understood.

The Erasers had been fighting yesterday.

The people were creating tomorrow.

The distinction was everything.

The lead Eraser lowered its Quill.

"You have found the weakness."

Serakha looked directly at it.

"No."

"You have."

"No."

She smiled.

"You have a weakness."

The Eraser remained silent.

"You cannot erase something that has not happened yet."

For the first time...

the creature smiled.

It was barely visible.

But Serakha saw it.

"Then you have already lost."

Suddenly the sky exploded with light.

The surrounding Erasers disappeared.

Not because they had been destroyed.

They had retreated.

The valley became quiet.

Emma looked upward.

"Did we win?"

The First Author shook her head.

"No."

Emma sighed.

"Of course not."

Serakha watched the darkness retreat beyond the crimson moons.

"They are going somewhere."

"Yes."

"Where?"

The First Author looked toward Earth.

Serakha's expression changed.

"Earth."

"Yes."

"Why?"

The First Author hesitated.

"Because Earth is where the third Writer is sleeping."

Serakha froze.

"The third Writer?"

"You."

"No."

The old woman shook her head.

"Not you."

She pointed toward the distant blue planet.

"Someone else."

Emma's face became serious.

"Who?"

The First Author looked toward the Earth.

"A human."

The valley fell silent.

Serakha stared at the tiny blue world.

"How old?"

"Twenty-one."

"Does she know what she is?"

"No."

"Does she know us?"

"No."

"Then why are the Erasers going after her?"

The First Author looked at Serakha.

"Because she is writing."

"What is she writing?"

"Your future."

Serakha felt the Pen tremble.

"Where is she?"

The First Author closed her eyes.

Then opened them.

"London."

Emma blinked.

"That was easier than I expected."

Serakha looked at her.

"Why?"

"I thought we'd have to search another dimension."

The First Author smiled.

"Do not become too comfortable."

"Why?"

"Because she is not alone."

A cold wind crossed the valley.

Behind the Earth, something enormous appeared.

Not a ship.

Not a planet.

A shape.

A silhouette so large that it seemed to bend the stars around it.

Serakha stared.

"What is that?"

The First Author's voice became almost inaudible.

"The place where the Erasers were born."

Emma swallowed.

"And where is that?"

The First Author looked toward the darkness.

"Inside the first story."

Serakha tightened her grip on the Pen.

"Then we go there."

Arin stepped beside her.

"I'll come."

Liora stood on her other side.

"So will I."

Emma raised her hand.

"And unfortunately..."

Serakha smiled.

"...you too."

Emma nodded.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

The three crimson moons slowly aligned above them.

A doorway appeared between them.

Beyond the doorway was not another world.

It was a page.

An enormous white page floating in darkness.

And upon that page...

someone had written three words.

SERAKHA IS COMING.

The letters began to bleed.

Then another sentence appeared beneath them.

SHE MUST NOT ARRIVE.

Serakha looked at the words.

Then smiled.

"That's interesting."

Emma frowned.

"What?"

Serakha raised the Pen.

"Someone is afraid of my arrival."

She stepped toward the doorway.

"That means I'm going in the right direction."

Behind them, the forgotten army began to move.

Not toward battle.

Toward the future.

And somewhere on Earth, in a small room in London, a young woman suddenly stopped writing.

She looked at the sentence on her screen.

Her hands began to tremble.

She had written it without knowing why.

Serakha is coming.

Then, beneath it, a new sentence appeared by itself.

And she is bringing the girl who remembers the beginning.

The young woman stared at the screen.

"Who are you?"

The cursor blinked.

Then typed a reply.

I am you.

And the lights in the room went out.