Gunmage-Chapter 232: The lie of memory

"What exactly happened in Drakensmar?"

Lyra blurted the question before she could stop herself.

The priestess, who had been explaining everything with calm enthusiasm until now, abruptly paused.

Her gaze turned slowly toward Lyra. It was difficult to tell if she was displeased—her face remained an unreadable mask, neither stern nor indulgent.

For several long seconds, she said nothing.

Then, at last, she spoke, voice flat but edged with something colder.

"You can ask Lugh about that yourself."

Lyra frowned.

’As expected, she won’t budge.’

She muttered the words to herself grimly, shifting her gaze toward Lugh. He wasn’t in any condition to answer questions—his body slumped, his mind clouded.

His silence was not refusal; it was incapacity.

And if Xhi didn’t plan on answering either, then she was out of options.

Still, she didn’t regret asking.

Then, Xhi’s voice rang out again, cutting cleanly through the fog in Lyra’s mind.

"However... if I were to guess his answer, it would be that he absorbed the memories and life experiences of tens of thousands—perhaps more."

Lyra frowned, puzzled. She couldn’t risk leading the priestess off course with basic questions—not when there was a real chance Xhi would simply stop speaking altogether.

Instead, she aimed straight for the most curious phrase.

"His answer?"

"Yes,"

Xhi replied simply.

"His answer."

She said it with unnerving conviction, as though quoting Lugh directly. But there was something off in the way she said it.

Xhi continued.

"Which is to say... it’s wrong." ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

Lyra stiffened. And she didn’t need to ask why.

Because at that very moment, another voice—deep and masculine—cut into the conversation like a blade through silence.

"What do you mean, ’wrong’?"

The voice was ragged.

They both turned sharply to see Lugh—barely upright—his eyes strained, face pulled into a rare, painful frown.

Xhi smiled.

A slow, knowing smile.

"I mean what I said,"

She answered smoothly.

And before Lugh could interrupt, she continued, stepping forward as though this moment had been rehearsed.

"You think you absorbed all the life experiences of those people—but you didn’t. Not since Drakensmar. Not since the day you were gifted the Mawglass."

"What?"

Lugh’s voice cracked with disbelief. He made to rise, only for pain to spear through his head, forcing him back into the seat.

Xhi pressed on, her voice now tinged with something disturbingly light. For some reason, she seemed to be enjoying this.

"Do you really believe that a human life can be compressed into fifteen minutes of digestible memory for your viewing pleasure? Don’t you find that just a little too convenient?"

Her voice had lowered, each word more deliberate than the last. The way she spoke now created an atmosphere so heavy, so stifling, Lyra could almost feel the air thinning.

Lugh didn’t respond—he only frowned, visibly struggling to reconcile her words with his beliefs. He looked less angry than... disoriented.

Xhi’s steps became languid. She walked as though through a summer field, utterly at peace. The contrast between her mood and the growing horror in the room was suffocating.

She turned her eyes to Lugh.

"Think again about that convenience. Are humans really just made up of skills and knowledge conveniently suited to whatever problem you’re facing?"

She tilted her head, almost gently.

"What about their fears? Their traumas, their habits—both noble and vile. Their addictions. Do you take those too when you ’inherit’ them?"

That struck him hard. His brows drew tighter, and his eyes locked on a random point in the distance, unfocused. Something inside him had begun to shift.

But Xhi wasn’t finished.

"And what about Emrys?"

Lugh froze. The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

The priestess chuckled softly, pleasantly, as though pleased with a blooming flower.

"I see you’ve already begun to notice the signs."

Lyra’s unease deepened. She didn’t understand what was happening—but whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

Still, she held back. She couldn’t afford recklessness, not this time. Every move would affect both her and Lugh. She had to stay still and wait.

Xhi’s voice cut through her thoughts again.

"Do you remember his mother’s name?"

Lugh gave no answer.

"His father?"

Silence.

"A lover, perhaps?"

Still nothing.

Her voice darkened with methodical rhythm.

"Among the others, you might not have noticed. But elves live long. Very long. And when you walk in their shoes, it becomes a lot more obvious."

It was all true—every word. Yet Lugh couldn’t accept it. Something inside him resisted, violently. But that resistance... didn’t feel like it was his own.

Xhi leaned in, sensing the moment.

"Ask yourself one last thing, Lugh. Do you really think, if Emrys were alive, you could face him alone?"

He didn’t answer right away.

Then, slowly, his eyes widened—just slightly, but enough. Enough to betray the thought that now took root.

’Why?’

’Why can’t I?’

He had Emrys’ memories. His techniques. His training. His experiences. He was, in many ways, a more perfect version of the man.

And yet... every time he ran the simulation in his mind, he couldn’t see himself lasting a single minute against the healing elf. Not one.

The contradiction clawed at him, tugging at the edges of his psyche.

Xhi smiled wider, knowing she was nearly there. She closed the distance between them, crouching until her face was level with his.

And in a soft voice, she asked

"That elf hated humans, didn’t he? It was a core part of who he was. So tell me, Lugh..."

Her smile stretched.

"Do you hate humans?"

Lugh shook his head instinctively, but it was clear he wasn’t certain. His breath hitched. His lips trembled.

"But... but..."

The opposing thoughts clashed erratically in his mind. Pain overtook his expression.

"Xhi, somethings not right."

Sensing something terribly off, Lyra took a step forward. But her foot never touched the ground.

Her body had frozen mid-stride. She tried to will her limbs forward, but they refused to obey.

’Paralysis.’

The word echoed in her head. She forced herself to remain calm, though her heart hammered against her chest.

"Deep breaths, deep breaths"

Realising she could speak, her eyes darted to Xhi, who like her, remained perfectly still, the smile frozen on her face.

She watched Lugh struggle.

The smile widened.

It clicked.

"Xhi!"

Lyra yelled out loud. The sound carried through, but the priestess didn’t respond.

"Xhi! What the hell are you doing?!"

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