Bella hops off my back and quickly walks towards the door before moving to each side while staring at the compass. No matter where she stands, it points directly at the dungeon entrance.

  She looks back at me with a raised brow, as if asking for my input.

  I just shrug. “Not like there’s anywhere else to go.”

  “Then, if you’re ready?” she asks, motioning to the door before placing a hand against it.

  I join her and do the same, and with a nod, we select ‘Yes’.

  Quest Alert

  Remember and restore.

  Objectives:

  Hidden.

  Rewards:

  Hidden.

  Everything fades away all at once.

  When my senses return to me, the sight before me is something I thought I’d long since forgotten.

  I sit at a rough wooden table, surrounded by my family. There’s a warmth in the air, a kind of aura of affection that I couldn’t have recalled even if I tried until just now.

  Father fills the space beside me like a mountain in foxkin form, black hair tumbling into his brown eyes, with arms that look like they could split logs without an ax. He always seems too big for the chairs, too strong for the table, while somehow being the gentlest of us all.

  Mother, though… she outshines even the glow of this moment. Her hair gleams silver-white in the lamplight, her eyes the same piercing blue that stare back at me in the mirror. She’s beautiful in a way I could never explain. The kind of beauty I secretly hope I’ll grow into.

  She looks on adoringly at my baby brother as he suckles from her breast, caressing his ears with a tenderness so vivid that it seems to echo across my own fur.

  No… this isn’t—

  Father’s voice cuts through the thought, warm and stern all at once.

  “Eat up, Emi,” my father chides. “If you ask for a snack during your brother's naming…”

  The smell of food hits me. A bowl of rice sits before me, topped with grilled meat and pickled veggies, and it smells divine. I grab the chopsticks beside my bowl with small, clumsy fingers.

  “Still need more practice, I see,” my father rumbles, his tone shifting into pure mirth.

  Then he’s there, cheek pressed warmly against my face, one of his ears gently swatting mine, just like he had done all those years ago. He adjusts my fingers to hold the sticks properly, gently guiding me all the while.

  His scent hits me like a tidal wave. It’s warm and strong, leather and fur, with a hint of something sweeter clinging beneath it all. My chest seizes. I had forgotten this. Forgotten him.

  It’s my Dad. In a way nothing and no one else could ever match.

  A corner of me screams this cannot be real, but I don’t care anymore. I want to remember again.

  He helps me eat for a while, then returns to his seat before trying to snatch bits from my bowl with his own dexterous chopstick usage. It forces me to use mine to fend him off until I start aiming for his bowl, teaching me through play and warfare.

  Mother looks on lovingly, watching us fool around as she coddles my brother and uses her free hand to eat her own food. When Dad erupts with faux outrage after subtly letting me steal a piece of meat from his bowl, she laughs.

  It’s like wind chimes and magic and everything I’ve ever wanted my own laughter to sound like.

  And it hurts so, so much.

  Behind her, there is a flash of red hair and pale skin. Scarlet eyes watch on curiously, seeming confused and lost. She opens her mouth to speak, but no sound comes out.

  I know who she is, and that this can’t be real… but I want to live in this moment for just a bit longer.

  In the space between blinks, I’m somewhere else again.

  My mother hugs my back to her chest as we soak in the tub together, one hand expertly combing through my hair. Steam brushes against my face, carrying with it the scent of flowers.

  She hums a tune I tried to forget, but I hum along nonetheless, letting the painful memories of countless nights of lullabies guide my voice.

  Mom always loved to sing my brother and I to sleep. My eyes flutter shut as her claws gently scratch at my scalp, sending pleasant tingles down my spine, straight to the tip of my tail.

  She pauses in her ministrations for a moment, and I open them to find Bella sitting across from me, also soaking in the tub. Her face a bright red with a mix of emotions as she covers her chest with one arm.

  I know she isn’t supposed to be a part of this memory, but she’s here even still. Weirder yet, my Mom holds her other arm by the wrist, as if she’d just stopped Bella from touching me. When I look up, my Mom’s gaze is stern, but not angry.

  “Not yet,” she says. “For now, just watch. Let my daughter have these moments. You’ll understand when the time comes.”

  Mom looks down to meet my gaze, her piercing blue eyes full of love and sorrow. She kisses me gently on the forehead before tilting my head down to face Bella and continuing to spoil my hair and ears.

  Bella just sits there, confused and flustered. She tries to speak, to ask something, but no sound comes. She gives up with a muted huff of frustration.

  A part of me wants to reach out to her, to speak to her. But every time I'm about to, a sense of wrongness floods my entire being. This may be a dungeon, but something about it is different. It’s somehow both real and not.

  I don’t know what to make of it yet. So instead, I lean further back into my mother, finding comfort in her soft embrace. The moment I start to doze, letting myself fall into the memories, I’m somewhere else once more.

  Her song lingers in my ears as the humidity of the tub is replaced by warm yellow light dancing across my skin as it illuminates the ceremony hall. My heart is lighter than I ever thought possible, buoyed by the memories I’d pushed away so fervently.

  Mom stands before us now, the center of attention for a crowd of foxkin. She looks solemn, her hands steady as she lays my brother gently atop an altar covered in pink and green vegetation.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Worry stabs into me, but my body doesn’t acknowledge it. My little tail wiggles and writhes as I wear a happy grin.

  Dad's huge hands are on my shoulders, keeping me locked in place before him despite my excited fidgeting. Bella stands beside us, silently watching on with an intense look of curiosity.

  It’s my brother's naming ceremony. A day meant for the growth of a family. For celebration, and joy.

  Yet another memory I’d buried deep, not just from the pain, but from the fury of what followed.

  And then it happens, exactly as it had.

  Before Mom can step back from the altar to continue the ritual, there’s an explosion overhead. The sound shatters through the room, ripping straight through the echo of her song.

  I scream, shrill and high, as the roof is torn clean off the building. Sunlight gives way to choking dust and falling embers. The sweet scent of flowers on the altar curdles into smoke.

  All around me, voices cry out. My kin, my people, panicked and terrified.

  Father’s arms clamp around me, strong and unbreakable. He yanks me up against his chest and runs, his heartbeat thunderous against my ear. His scent is still there, but now it carries the acrid bite of fear and anger.

  Somewhere deep inside, a part of me warns me of what comes next, but I have already given myself to the memories. I am just a little girl again, clinging to her father as the sky falls apart.

  In the next moment, we’re running through town, Dad carrying me and Mom carrying my brother as we sprint for the Tunnels. My home, once a soft yellow and green, is tainted red and black with fire and smoke.

  Soldiers swarm all around us slaughtering friends and family, young and old alike, without hesitation. Mom yelps in pain as an arrow slams into her side, pushing out through her belly.

  She doesn’t stop running though. She can’t. She won’t. Dad slows just enough to get behind her, covering her from any more stray attacks with his own back. When the gloom of the Tunnels envelops us, he sets me down.

  Mom takes my hand and quickly guides me deeper as Dad equips himself from the nearby Hunter den.

  The next moment, he’s by our side again, clipping a sword around Mom's waist before giving her a passionate kiss. Tears spill from her eyes in great rivers and she whimpers when he presses his forehead to hers, holding her by the back of the neck and keeping her close.

  “Don’t stop for anything. The Hunters and I will hold them off as long as we can before following along,” he murmurs. Then he releases her and pulls back. She presses forward, as if trying to keep hold of him for just a moment longer, only barely stopping herself.

  He kneels in front of me and presses a small dagger into my chest, a sad smile on his face. “You keep your mother safe while I’m away, and make sure to do everything she tells you. Do you understand?”

  His voice is stern, a hint of a growl underneath the words to make sure I know how serious he is. His scent is different too. Still leather and fur, but the sweetness is gone, replaced by something more primal.

  It cows my terror for a moment, the instinct to listen forcing its way through my thoughts.

  I nod.

  “Good girl,” he says, then his huge hand settles atop my head and he musses up my hair with a grin.

  I pout, my indignance flaring for a moment, but he lets it slide. Instead, he nods to the redhead beside me and strides toward the Tunnel entrance.

  My Dad’s wide back stands out amongst the dozen or so Hunters blocking the path, a wall of gentle power turned to violent defense. A wave of men in dark armor pours into the Tunnels, only to crash and break against his might.

  His spear swings, and soldiers fall into bloody heaps at his feet, swept aside by the next motion of his deadly tool. He doesn’t take a single step back, even as others falter.

  Not even as a sword pierces his flesh.

  Before we turn down another path, a flash of red hair streaks across the chaos, shards of ice tearing through the invaders. Then the darkness of the Tunnels washes over us.

  We keep running with the other survivors until, in a flash of light and magic, it’s just us again, running through a forest somewhere on the surface.

  We slow, and Mom crashes to her knees as she cradles my brother tightly to her chest. Her sobs tear through the air, raw and soul-rending. The world around us seems to vibrate with her howl of anguish, and I do the only thing I know how.

  I wrap myself around her, hoping to comfort her like she comforts me, all while being careful to avoid the arrow protruding from her side. She clutches onto me like I’m her last lifeline, and that’s when I notice it.

  My brother. Held close to her chest, but too still. A tiny fragment of wood juts from his unmoving chest.

  He’s gone. Has been since the explosion. I finally understand why my mother cried at the Tunnel entrance. She had stayed strong, pushed through her grief to get me to safety… only now does she break.

  I break with her.

  Red hair sweeps over us as someone else huddles close, shielding us from the world as we weep together.

  Some time later, Mom takes my hand, guiding me to a patch of freshly turned earth. The scent of soil pierces every other sense, erasing any hints of the wonders of nature. Our hands are filthy, caked with dirt, but we don’t have the energy left to care.

  Mom kneels beside me and bows her head, gently guides me in bowing as well. To our other side, the pale woman does the same.

  When my mother speaks, her voice is hoarse and cracked with grief.

  “Oh, great spirits of the forest, we commend this soul to your loving embrace. We dig the hole deep to show we are strong enough to let them go. We bury them within to show they are loved.”

  She swallows, breath shaky, then continues, “We leave them to you, so they might find comfort and peace, and bring life anew.”

  She presses her forehead to the soft dirt. I follow, pressing my fingers into the earth as I do, feeling its cool finality. The girl beside me mirrors our actions.

  We stay like that for a time, weeping silently over the vastness of our loss as the world around us falls away.