Eryshae

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Sam

Sam's phone rang, vibrating lightly on the kitchen counter beside the half-empty glass of water he didn't remember pouring. The name flashed across the screen: Vael 🌿

He stared at it for a moment, heart thudding strangely in his chest. Then he answered.

Her voice was bright, easy. "Hey! I'll be ready in ten. My dad's still fussing over my outfit, but you know how he gets." A light laugh, full of old Earth softness. "Just wanted to give you a heads-up."

Sam blinked, glancing down at himself. He was already dressed. A tailored, slate-grey suit hugged his frame perfectly, crisp lines running clean down the legs. The tie was forest green; almost iridescent under the light. There was a pocket square too, folded with a care he didn't remember applying. The whole ensemble felt foreign and strangely correct, like something from a dream he hadn't meant to wake from.

"Yeah," he managed after a pause. "I'll be there soon." She laughed again. "You sound nervous, Forest Prince." Sam's breath caught. "What did you call me?"

"Huh?" she said, puzzled. "Nothing. Just Sam." A beat. "You okay?" He covered. "Yeah. Yeah, just... haven't worn a tie in a while."

"You look amazing, I'm sure," she said. "See you soon." The line went dead.

Sam stood motionless for a long breath before slipping the phone into his pocket and heading for the door. As he turned the handle, another call came in; this one from his mom.

He smiled faintly and answered it. "Hey, sweetheart!" her voice came through the phone like sunshine. "Just wanted to say have a wonderful time tonight! Prom night at your age, huh? I swear, you college kids do it all over again just for the photos." Sam chuckled softly, leaning his back against the door. "Thanks, Mom."

"I heard you're taking that Vael girl," she added, teasing. "She sounds lovely. Make sure you shake her father's hand, okay? Firm, but respectful."

"I will."

"And take good care of her tonight, Sammy. No goofing off. Treat her like she's the queen of the world." Sam paused.

"I will," he said, voice quiet but certain. "I promise." As he hung up, the hallway light flickered faintly. He ignored it. Locked the door behind him. The city beyond waited; cars honking, windows glowing, the hum of normalcy.

But beneath his skin, the vines of his tattoo pulsed once; faintly bioluminescent beneath the jacket sleeve. Like they remembered something Earth could not.

The car idled at the curb outside his apartment. It wasn't his car. Sam didn't even remember calling for a ride. But there it was; a sleek black sedan with spotless windows and a faint pine scent wafting from the cracked passenger door.

The driver was young. Tan knuckles on the wheel, mirrored sunglasses hiding his eyes, dressed too sharply to be a rideshare guy. "Sam?" he asked.

Sam nodded and got in. The door shut with a click that sounded far too final. They pulled off into the evening; city lights trailing like constellations born too close to the ground. The streetlamps burned their amber glow against a sky caught between sunset and neon. The hum of traffic, the irregular blink of taillights, the synthetic cadence of pop music bleeding from a passing car; it all felt like it should be comforting.

But it wasn't. It was loud. Empty. Thin, somehow. He glanced at the driver. "Sorry, remind me… who asked you to drive us?"

"Vael did," the man replied with a pleasant tone, but nothing in it invited more questions. "You said you didn't want to worry about parking."

"Right," Sam muttered. He turned toward the window. The cityscape rushed past in fragments; brick buildings, neon signs, the delicate spindles of bridges threading over stagnant rivers. Billboards and crowds. Smog and laughter. It all felt… fabricated. A pageantry of meaning with no roots underneath.

On the Eryshae Peninsula, even silence had texture. Wind moved like a voice, ancient and curious. The trees bowed when you approached, if you knew how to listen. The stars burned slower. Closer.

But here… Here, the trees were potted. The stars were hidden. And the only thing that whispered were cell towers. He remembered stepping barefoot through moss, the cool kiss of loam between his toes. He remembered Mira's pendant glinting just before she turned away. He remembered Vael, wreathed in sadness, eyes wet with fury and devotion, reaching for him through smoke.

Here, the air was dry. Filtered. Chlorinated by a thousand AC vents. Sam rolled the cuff of his jacket back slightly. The vines inked down his arm pulsed faintly; bioluminescent threads spiraling from wrist to elbow. The glow was gentle. Rhythmic. Like breath. Or memory.

He swallowed hard, voice catching on the inside of his throat. "Did she say what color dress she's wearing?" he asked. The driver gave a half-shrug. "Said something about wanting to surprise you."

A smile tugged weakly at the corner of Sam's mouth. That was Vael. Or at least, this version of her. Earth Vael. Softer, less burdened, unaware of firelight vows or rootbound destinies. She probably thought this was just a sweet little night of dancing and photos and carefully practiced small talk with her date's mom.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Sam exhaled, slow and steady, eyes drifting back to the skyline. It should've been enough. This life. This world. It was safe. Familiar. But something inside him knew better.

The Eryshae Guardian had looked through him. Deus had judged him. And somewhere, on a bed of carved stone and sacred roots, his body still lay; half-man, half-tree; bathed in the last light of a war he hadn't finished fighting.

And now here he was. In a car that didn't belong to him. Wearing a suit he didn't remember buying. On his way to a dance with a girl who wasn't quite the woman he'd died for.

The car slowed in front of a quiet street lined with neat lawns and maple trees whose leaves glowed orange beneath the waning light. Vael's house sat halfway down the block; a classic middle-class suburban home, two stories tall with off-white siding and a porch light flickering faintly like it wasn't sure if it wanted to stay on.

Sam stared at it through the windshield. It felt like looking at a picture of someone he knew before they died. He blinked hard. The car rolled to a stop. The driver didn't say anything.

Sam reached for the handle. "Thanks," he murmured, still caught in the fog between timelines. "I'll be right back." He stepped out. The air smelled like barbecue smoke and lawn clippings. A sprinkler sputtered somewhere in the distance. Wind chimes clinked. A dog barked from across the street.

Sam walked up the short path toward the front door. The grass was too trimmed. The welcome mat too symmetrical. The porch light buzzed overhead like a dying insect.

He raised his hand to knock; paused. For half a second, he swore he heard wind rustling the pine trees. Then the moment was gone. His knuckles rapped the door.

Footsteps inside. The sound of a latch. A shadow behind frosted glass. Then the door opened. And he was there.

Corven.

But not the Corven Sam knew from Eryshae; the rugged tribal chief with sun-leathered skin and a blade always within arm's reach. This Corven wore a collared shirt tucked into khakis. No blade. No bone-carved jewelry. Just a firm handshake waiting behind a neutral expression. But Sam could see it; the shadow of the same man. The weight in the shoulders. The calm, watchful intelligence behind the eyes. A bear that had been taught to smile in polite company.

"You're Sam," Corven said flatly. Sam nodded, heart thudding. "Yes, sir." Corven didn't move at first. Just studied him. Then: "Vael's still finishing up. Come in."

He stepped aside. The house smelled like wood polish and something sweet baking in the kitchen. A framed picture on the wall showed Vael in a cheer uniform. Another showed her holding a trophy beside a woman he recognized as her mother.

But none of it felt right. The air was too still. The silence too practiced. Sam stepped inside. Corven closed the door behind him, the click sounding too final. And in that moment, Sam had a sudden thought;

Was he dreaming?

Or worse… Was he being watched?

Corven stepped into the foyer beside Sam, crossing his arms as the door clicked shut behind them. The silence held for just a heartbeat too long; thick with expectation or maybe warning. Then, from the kitchen: the soft clatter of a spoon in a bowl, the creak of linoleum under careful steps.

"Elowen," Corven called softly without turning. "He's here." She appeared like sunlight slipping through a doorway; warm, fragrant, and precise. Elowen had the kind of beauty that aged gracefully: lines by her eyes from smiling often, streaks of silver in her thick brown hair, and a posture that spoke of both hospitality and backbone.

"Oh, Sam!" she said, wiping her hands on a linen towel and sweeping forward with the momentum of someone who had already made up her mind to love you. Before he could react, her arms wrapped around him; soft, perfumed, maternal. He stiffened, startled; but only for a second. Her hug didn't feel performative. It felt real. Too real.

Elowen pulled back, holding him by the shoulders with a smile like spring. "It's so lovely to finally meet you. Vael has been bubbling ever since you asked her. She's been up in her room getting ready all afternoon; she's been so excited. Said she was sure you wouldn't actually go through with it, and then when you did ask her..." She gave him a gentle, mother-knows look. "Well. I haven't seen her smile like that in a while."

Sam opened his mouth, unsure what to say. He didn't remember asking Earth-Vael. Didn't remember this world's version of how it had all led here. And yet; he could see her handwriting in the text. Her name in his phone. Her toothbrush in his apartment.

"I… yeah," Sam said, his voice barely above a whisper. "She; she looks forward to things quietly. I guess." Corven gave a grunt behind him, something between approval and appraisal. Elowen beamed. "Well, she's been quieter lately. Focused. I think she really wanted tonight to be something special."

Sam nodded slowly, every sense pulled taut, as though the walls themselves were holding their breath. He was in the middle of something real.

But not true.

Not entirely.

And he couldn't help but wonder; Was Vael upstairs, curling her hair and picking out earrings? Or was she, somewhere else, still covered in ash and grief, planning to break into an estate to steal a fragment of godhood?

He didn't know which was worse. Or which was more dangerous to believe in. The faint creak of a stair tread broke the moment. Sam turned instinctively, his breath catching in his throat as soon as he saw her.

Vael descended the staircase slowly, hand gliding along the railing, the soft thud of each step landing like a heartbeat too loud in his ears. She moved with a kind of practiced elegance; but beneath that, there was still the hint of her feral strength, her poised readiness, like a wildfire hidden behind velvet curtains. Her dress clung to her like a whispered promise.

Crimson silk kissed the curves of her hips and thighs before cascading in soft folds around her knees. A black corset cinched her waist, accentuating the hourglass of her frame while adding a quiet note of danger, of dominance softened by desire. Beneath the hem, black tights wrapped her legs in a shadowed sheen, and her heels clicked with subtle grace, the echo like a countdown.

Gold glinted with each motion; loops and studs climbing her ears, a delicate chain at her neck with a teardrop amber gem, and bracelets that chimed like small, secret bells with each step. Her curls were pinned at the back of her head, but some had broken free, cascading in moss-green spirals around her face and shoulders. Her lips were painted a rich berry-red that matched the dress; ripe and devastating.

And her eyes; gods, her eyes; were the same. Wise and wild. Mischievous and mournful. Alive with knowing, even if they didn't remember what he remembered.

Sam forgot how to stand.

Forgot how to speak.

Forgot everything but the sight of her.

She paused at the last step, golden earrings catching the warm hallway light, and offered a smile that made the world feel paper-thin. "Hey," she said softly, brushing a curl behind her ear. It was simple. But it wrecked him.

Sam blinked, mouth slightly open, then closed it and tried again. "I; uh… you…"

Elowen chuckled softly behind him, patting his shoulder. "Breathe, Sam." Vael tilted her head. "Do I pass inspection?" He exhaled finally, shaking his head. "You're… you're real." Her smile faltered just for a moment; confusion or amusement, it was hard to tell.

But then she descended the last step and stood in front of him, close enough for her perfume to curl around his senses; something soft and green and heady, like blooming ivy. "I'm real enough to dance with," she murmured, slipping her hand through the crook of his arm.

Sam swallowed, heartbeat unsteady. "Yeah," he whispered. "Yeah, that sounds about right." Corven opened the door behind them with a dry grunt. "Don't stay out too late. And bring her back in one piece."

Elowen smiled, misty-eyed already. "Have fun, you two." And as the door closed behind them, the night air wrapped around Sam's body like a spell not quite broken.