novelraw Chapter 173: The Weight Of What Was Lost
Chapter 173: The Weight Of What Was Lost
"Miss," Philip Hardy said, voice laced with careful persuasion, "you seem to know far too much about Azurverda to remain uninvolved. Why not put that knowledge to use... and work for us?"
Lara opened her mouth but she paused when she felt every pair of eyes turn toward her.
Before she could respond—
"No."
The word landed like a blade.
Ares didn’t even look at Philip when he spoke. His attention remained fixed ahead, posture relaxed—but the quiet authority in him left no room for debate.
"She is my daughter’s governess."
Something in Lara’s chest tightened— annoyance.
Lara exhaled quietly.
She didn’t like the feeling lingering deep inside her.
Why did that sound less like an offer... and more like a claim? And you didn’t even ask me.
Philip let out a short breath, then tried again, softer this time. "Ares... this isn’t just about you. This is about the greater good. Someone like her—someone who understands Azurverda at this level—she’s rare."
He glanced at Lara, eyes glinting with calculation.
"She can split her time. Half the day here, half the day..." his lips curved faintly, "...educating your child."
Ares finally turned.
The air shifted.
"Are you telling me," he said, voice low and measured, "that in an entire country... you’ve run out of talent?"
The question wasn’t loud—but it pressed.
Philip went still.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Philip smiled.
His gaze lingered on Ares, heavy with something unspoken.
Don’t be too sure of yourself. I’m not done.
Without another word, he stepped back.
The conversation was over—but not resolved.
The group began to move, shoes crunching softly against gravel as they exited the Hevenfort Excavation Site. The golden haze of late afternoon stretched across the ruins, bathing everything in a deceptive calm.
Ares remained with Philip Hard, Leonard, and Artemio, their voices lowering as they discussed tightening security in the entire island.
Aquilo took his chance.
"Lara."
She turned.
Aquilo stood just off to the side, as if he had been waiting—not intruding, but not accidental either.
"Can I get your number?" he asked.
It was straightforward.
"There’s something I want to send you."
Lara didn’t move.
There it was again—the familiar feeling.
Like recognizing a face in a dream you couldn’t quite remember.
"What is it?" she asked instead, her tone guarded.
Aquilo studied her for a brief second, then stepped closer.
Not threatening.
But close enough that she could see the faint scar near his jaw... and the way his eyes searched hers, as if looking for recognition.
Do I... really know him?
He turned his phone toward her.
Two photos.
The first—
Her breath caught. It was a selfie.
Him... and her.
He wore an army cap pulled low, shadowing his eyes, his expression composed—almost serious. The kind of look that didn’t invite questions.
But beside him—
She looked different.
A faint, hesitant smile curved on her lips, the kind that made her seem almost shy—like she had been caught off guard, but didn’t quite mind it.
They sat shoulder to shoulder.
Not stiff nor distant.
Their bodies angled slightly toward each other, as if that closeness was natural—unquestioned.
Lara’s chest tightened.
Because there was no space between them.
No awkwardness. No hesitation. Just an ease that couldn’t be faked. An ease that only came from shared time or shared secrets.
And she remembered none of it.
The second photo flickered into view.
A group of men in fatigues. A bonfire blazing behind them, sparks rising into the dark like fireflies. Their faces were relaxed, unguarded.
And Aquilo and Lara stood among them.
Not as an outsider but as one of them.
Lara’s fingers curled slightly.
Her mind raced.
When was this taken? Why can’t I remember?
A faint pressure built at the back of her head—like something trying to surface.
It was a night in the forest. They were on a mission.
Then— there was nothing.
Like a dream dissolving upon waking.
Aquilo lowered the phone and watched her carefully.
"You don’t remember," he said quietly.
It wasn’t a question.
Lara stiffened.
"I—"
She stopped herself. Instinct kicked in.
"I guessed it would take some time." She said.
She was trying to retreat. To take control.
Slowly, she lifted her phone and displayed her QR code.
"If you’re sending those," she said, steadying her voice, "then just send them."
Aquilo scanned it without comment.
A second later, her phone vibrated. The sound felt louder than it should have.
He stepped back. But his gaze lingered, and the corner of his lips curled slightly.
It wasn’t casual. It was certain.
She will definitely remember if she looked closer
...
"Hey, Sis. We’re leaving."
The moment snapped. Logan approached with long, powerful strides; his presence was immediately felt.
His eyes flicked to Aquilo, narrowing ever so slightly.
Lara slipped her phone into her pocket.
"Thank you," she said politely, though her mind was anything but calm.
Aquilo gave a small nod. He didn’t look at Logan. Only her.
As if the conversation wasn’t over.
As if it had only just begun.
...
Lara turned and followed Logan toward the trike.
The engine coughed to life, sputtering once before settling into a steady, rattling hum that cut through the silence of the excavation site. Gravel crunched beneath the tires as they pulled away, the ruins of Hevenfort shrinking behind them.
But the quiet didn’t return.
Not for her.
Because even as the wind brushed against her skin and the landscape began to blur past—
She could still feel it.
That thin, invisible thread. Tugging at her.
Her fingers twitched at her side.
Her phone felt heavier than it should—like it wasn’t just metal and glass sitting in her pocket, but something alive and waiting.
The photos. They were not just images but evidence.
Fragments.
A version of her life that existed somewhere... but not in her mind.
Lara’s gaze was fixed on the road ahead, but she wasn’t really seeing it.
She was seeing that photo.
That smile. That closeness.
That familiarity she didn’t know existed but was immortalized in stills.
Just who was Aquilo to her? He was definitely not just a casual acquaintance. He looked like someone who knew.
And worse—
Like someone who had been there.
A faint ache pulsed at her temples.
Like something inside her mind was sealed shut... and pushing against its own walls.
She inhaled slowly, steadying herself.
Think.
If those photos were real—and they were—then there were only a few possibilities.
She had met him before. Spent time with him. Enough time to stand that close.
To look that natural and belong in that moment.
But she remembered none of it.
What kind of life was I living... before I forgot it?