Parallel Memory

Chapter 530: Am i still dreaming?

After a blinding flash of light, the sensation of being alive came rushing back—not in peace, but in pain. Every muscle in my body ached, every breath stung like a thousand blades in my chest. It wasn’t a dream. The harsh reality of the wounds I had sustained hit me all at once.

My consciousness stirred slowly, like mist parting at dawn. I couldn’t open my eyes fully yet, but the sounds and blurred outlines around me... they were real.

And then I heard it—crying. Soft, broken sobs echoed faintly through the silence.

Who would cry here, in this lifeless cave? That thought alone stirred my heart. I forced my eyes open just a sliver. Through my blurred vision, I caught sight of her—Lilith. Her form slightly hunched, her arms wrapped around me, my head resting on her lap as she trembled with each sob.

She was saying something, her words lost in the whirlwind of confusion that clouded my mind. Her tears slid down her cheeks, warm droplets falling onto my face. The sheer weight of that moment almost made me laugh in disbelief.

Am I still dreaming?

I closed my eyes again. I must have been hallucinating. That couldn’t be real. Lilith—who had been like an empty shell for as long—was crying? The same Lilith who always moved when told, who never acted on her own unless commanded, whose expression remained frozen in time like a marionette built only to follow orders.

But this—this was different.

Her touch... her tears... her voice, even if I couldn’t make it out yet—it all felt too human. Too raw.

The screeching of harpies rang in my ears for a second—but it was just a lingering echo, a nightmare born from the trauma of my last battle. I blinked slowly. The light filtering into the cave was dimmer now—late afternoon sunlight crept in through the cracks, painting golden streaks on the cold stone.

The pain was still there, dull and stubborn, but manageable. I noticed my wounds were bandaged with care. Not exactly professional work, but effective. It must have been a day or two since I collapsed.

And then, I saw her again—this time with clear eyes.

Lilith sat near the entrance, hugging her knees as she stared quietly into the forest beyond. Her posture was different now—less stiff, less robotic. Her shoulders shifted slightly now and then, like she was lost in her thoughts.

There was life in her.

”Lilith...” I croaked out. My voice was rough, barely audible.

She turned at once, her eyes widening the second they landed on mine. Before I could blink again, she had rushed to my side and wrapped her arms around me.

”Z-Ze...ro...” she whispered, her voice trembling with uncertainty, like each syllable was a boulder she had to push uphill.

”You... you’re speaking?” I managed to ask, shocked.

She gave a shaky nod. ”Y-Yes.”

Her voice cracked, not just from emotion but from the long years of silence. It must’ve been forever since she last used it properly. Each word came with effort, like it had to claw its way out of her throat.

I tried to sit up but winced in pain.

”Do....n’t,” she said, firmer this time. She placed her hand gently on my chest to stop me.

”Do you remember... what happened?” I asked cautiously, watching her closely.

She looked away, her hands tightening into fists. ”I... I... I...”

Her lips quivered, her brows furrowed, as though trying to piece together a puzzle in her head. Then she said it—broken, hesitant, but unmistakable.

”X-Xal...var...”

That name hit like a hammer to the chest.

Xalvar.

The devil. The one behind it all.

The cave. The screams. The blood of our friends. That memory—etched in my soul like a scar that never healed. The way he tricked us, hiding behind the mask of one of our own, Sixtus. And then slaughtering everyone once we were trapped.

She gripped her head suddenly, her face twisting in pain. ”T-too loud... t-too much...”

”Hey, it’s alright,” I said softly, reaching out and taking her hand. ”You don’t have to force it. Not now.”

She nodded slowly, tears slipping down again. ”I... w-want... to... b-but... t-talk... h-hard...”

”It’s okay. We’ll go slow,” I said with a small smile. ”We’ll practice together.”

She tilted her head in confusion, as if unsure how to respond.

We practiced the simplest of names. And with each repetition, something changed. Her voice grew steadier. Her face relaxed. Her breathing slowed. She smiled—timidly at first, then a little brighter.

I didn’t realize how much I missed seeing her smile until that moment.

I wanted to ask her how she ended up like that—how she managed to survive all those years in the cave, and how she ended up becoming a devil. It made no sense. There was no record, no legend of any human who had turned into a devil. And how she came back to her sense.

But I knew she couldn’t explain it. Not yet. Her mind was still piecing itself back together. Her words struggled to form.

So I let it go, for now.

My body reminded me once again that I was still far from healed. The pain in my ribs flared up each time I tried to shift. My muscles felt like they had been through a thousand battles.

I lay back down, letting the stone beneath me support the weight I could no longer carry.

But all I could think of... was her.

Lilith was back. Not entirely—but something within her had awoken. A soul long buried under trauma, silence, and pain was finally stirring.

I wasn’t alone anymore.

The cave was quiet that night, save for the gentle crackling of a small fire we had managed to start. Lilith sat beside it, humming something broken but strangely calming. I couldn’t place the tune—it was familiar, like something from a dream long forgotten.

”Do you remember that song?” I asked, my voice soft.

She nodded. Just that. But it was enough.

Memories came flooding back—of the time before everything went wrong. Before Xalvar. Before the massacre. When we were just kids, laughing under the sunlight, running through fields with no idea what the world had in store for us.

I clenched my fists.

”Xalvar... he’s still out there.”

Lilith didn’t speak. But the look in her eyes said more than words ever could. Her gaze, once empty, now burned with something fierce.

”H-hurt... you...” she said, a trace of anger lacing her voice.

”And others,” I muttered. ”He’s not finished. But neither am I.”

She nodded. ”I... w-will help.”

Her words were shaky, but her expression was solid. That same determination I once knew was starting to flicker back into her.

I couldn’t help but chuckle slightly, despite the pain.

”Then we’re in this together.”

She smiled again, quieter this time, like she was still afraid it might disappear if she showed too much joy.

But it didn’t.

The night passed slowly. Peacefully. It was the first time in a long while that I felt like I could breathe without expecting death around the corner.

But the fire in me hadn’t gone out.

I would recover and reclaim my strength.

And when I did... the harpies would be the first to fall