The Name That Had to Be Carried
He returned to the common room without a word.
Kaelen noticed it immediately.
Zephryn's step had changed—not slower, not cautious. Just… heavier. Like every motion had to be weighed against a memory first.
Yolti sat on the back of the couch, twisting a string of copper pulsewire between her fingers. Selka stood near the window, staring into the glyphlight haze outside.
Kaelen didn't ask what happened.
He just motioned to the empty seat.
"You look like you fought something."
"I didn't," Zephryn said, voice low.
"But it was there."
"Riftborn?" Yolti asked.
Zephryn shook his head once.
"No.
This one knew how to stay."
Selka turned slowly.
"And you still felt it?"
Zephryn met her eyes.
"I never stopped."
The room was still for a while.
Not tense.
Just full.
Like each of them was waiting for the right breath to speak something they hadn't said in six years.
Kaelen was the one who broke it.
"It's heavy, isn't it?"
Zephryn didn't answer at first.
Kaelen nodded toward him.
"Carrying a name again."
Zephryn looked down at the scarf in his hands.
Held it.
Felt the frayed edge where the cliff wind had burned it the night it all shattered.
And finally, softly—
"It's heavier when you never let it go."