In a quiet corner of the new world, where the rivers whispered and the sky stayed pink long after sunset… there was a bench.
It faced a field of lanterns.
Each lantern carried a memory.
Some flickered with joy.
Some with pain.
Some barely glowed — but still held on.
Amaris sat there most evenings, alone but never lonely.
---
She didn’t talk much anymore.
Not because she had nothing to say — but because the world had learned to listen without words.
She watched people come and go.
Children chasing echoes in the grass.
Old men lighting new lanterns.
Lovers tracing their fingers across the names carved into the stones beneath their feet.
Tavian sometimes sat beside her, telling stories no one else remembered.
And Lyra would hum — soft and slow — songs from a time no one had lived but everyone felt.
---
One day, a child came to her.
Eyes full of wonder. Hair like dusk.
> “Are you the one who made us remember?”
Amaris smiled.
> “No. I’m just the one who refused to forget.”
The child thought for a moment, then handed her a thread — silver, frayed, still warm.
> “I found this in my dream,” she said.
> “I think it belongs to you.”
---
Amaris held it gently.
And for the first time in years…
She cried.
Not from sorrow.
But from completion.
The thread wasn’t hers.
It belonged to someone long gone.
But the child had remembered it.
Which meant…
Nothing was ever truly lost.
---
> “Thank you,” Amaris whispered, as the lanterns swayed with the wind.
YOU ARE READING
memory core
Fantasy> ❝Memories don't die... They just hide where no one dares to look.❞ Mira thought she was just a normal girl. Until she woke up in a strange room, with a name that wasn't hers and a heart that remembered something... or someone... else. There is som...
