Chronicles of Forgotten Extra

"Alden… Caera… my children… "Are you here?"

As soon as she heard the words, Caera froze.

The voice.

It pierced through centuries of solitude.

She knew that voice.

She didn't understand how, but something in her chest broke — because it confirmed her doubt.

The boy beside her wasn't just some remnant or coincidence.

He was him.

He was her brother.

He had been barely a few months old when she last saw him — pudgy fingers, round eyes and always laughing when she traced glowing shapes in the air.

He loved the lights. Always trying to reach for it.

"Caera, you'll overstimulate him with too much mana exposure," her mother used to scold her always whenever she did that, with a soft mix of worry and affection lingering in her tone.

But now?

Now she looked at the woman in front of her — green-haired, frail and sitting before the mirror like a ghost.

Her mother.

After all these centuries.

She looked… drained.

Like the soul behind her eyes had burned too long and left only smoke.

Tears gathered around Caera's eyes before she could stop them.

She had imagined this moment for so long.

Her mother.

Her little brother.

Her father.

A reunion.

A homecoming.

But then—

Something twisted.

A thought slipped up from the deepest part of her, filled with bitterness.

Why didn't they come for me?

Why was I left behind?

Why him, and not me?

Was I not important enough?

She clenched her fists.

The thought disgusted her. But it wouldn't leave.

She hated the poison it carried. Hated herself for even feeling something like this.

But it was there.

Loud. Bitter. True.

She was a human after all.

Even after everything, some part of her still wanted to be chosen.

She knew about her mother's powers.

She saw the future. Didn't she?

She must've known what would happen to me.

What I'd endure in that seal.

So why—

Why didn't she come?

Why did she let me rot in the void while he got to live?

Jealousy, grief and rage—all crashed in her chest.

She looked at Alden. She didn't want to resent him.

But she did.

Just a little.

And she hated herself for it.

His shoulders were trembling subtly; it was barely even noticeable.

His hands were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had gone pale.

Still, he didn't show a single sign of emotion on his face.

And the way he watched their mother?

Like she was a stranger he wanted to trust—but couldn't.

She saw the silence in his eyes, the kind forged by years of being utterly alone.

It didn't erase her pain.

It didn't erase the question.

But it reminded her: this wasn't his fault.

He had been a baby when everything was destroyed.

He didn't deserve any of this.

Her jaw trembled. She took a slow breath.

I can be angry. I can be broken. But not at him.

She looked back at their mother.

You. You're the one who left us. You're the one who has to answer.

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Alden, meanwhile, stood rigid.

His mind was working, but not fast enough.

So he stopped trying.

He just listened.

The green-haired woman before the mirror didn't look at them.

Not really.

But when she spoke, her voice was soft. Faint. Yet still warm.

"By the time you'll be seeing this message, I'll be long gone."

She paused.

The smile on her lips seemed too small to be joy. Too deep to be sadness.

"I wish I could see your faces. Hold you. But I can only imagine now."

"But this is all I can leave behind — one last echo… before I vanish from Eryndor."

Her eyes didn't lift, but her tone hardened slightly.

"I couldn't stay. They were closing in and… I had to lead them away."

Alden narrowed his eyes.

There it was again.

They.

Always them.

Who the hell were they that even someone like her feared them?

And just how powerful had his mother been?

The echo continued, more focused now.

More severe.

"I bound this message to the pendant. It activates only when you two are together."

"I can't tell you anything about them or they'll know."

Her voice lowered.

"Some truths aren't hidden to protect you. They're hidden to keep them blind."

His expression didn't shift, but he understood the seriousness in her voice.

The echo chuckled.

"I know. This must be annoying to hear."

She turned slightly.

"Especially you, Caera. You never stopped asking questions — not even when the answers hurt."

The echo stood up now, leaving the mirror behind.

"But fate doesn't answer questions. It just tightens around your throat the more you try to understand it."

Her eyes—those strange golden eyes—seemed to find Caera.

"I knew you two would meet again. I didn't know how. And I was powerless to stop any of it."

"But I hoped. Every day, I hoped…"

Caera couldn't take it anymore.

Her voice cracked.

"Then why didn't you come for me?"

"Why did you let me suffer for so long?"

"Was I not important enough for you?"

The echo paused for a moment as if she anticipated these questions.

Tears filled her eyes.

"Oh Caera… My sweet girl."

She pressed a hand over her heart.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to. Every day, I imagined your voice. Your anger. Your pain."

"But I couldn't see everything. That was the price I paid… for what I did."

Silence followed.

Caera's jaw clenched.

She had more to say — gods, she had so much — but it all withered inside her.

What was the point?

She was speaking to just an echo of her mother... Not the real one.

Her hands trembled, but she said nothing. Not because she forgave. But because it was pointless.

Alden could hear her sob behind him — raw and soft, like she was trying to swallow centuries of pain in silence.

He didn't need to turn around to feel her frustration. And honestly, he felt pity for her.

But that was all he felt for her. He didn't feel anything beyond that.

She had beaten him nearly to death just a few moments ago afterall.

The echo turned toward Alden now.

Her gaze didn't shift this time.

It locked onto him.

He braced himself.

He had questions. Thousands of them, but he knew he couldn't ask any of them.

Still, at this moment only one question haunted him.

How is she my sister?

His mother looked at him with a knowing smile.

Before he could even ask anything, she answered him herself.

"Draven is not your real family, Alden. It never was. Not by blood. Not by fate."

He stiffened.

What?

What the hell does that mean?

Alden's breath caught.

He couldn't understand what she meant by that.

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Author's Note:

This chapter is a little more raw — not my cleanest, but I wanted to show the cracks forming between the characters before the real answers begin. Thanks for sticking with it. The next one's where the real truth starts unraveling.