After the Draft of Debt, Elian began to walk more slowly. Miran noticed at once, Shani lowered her eyes at every step he took, and Vestra stopped making jokes about merchandise even behind his back.
His knees hurt after climbing stairs, his fingers tired more quickly, and at times his voice grew deeper.
Lissa noticed the changes too.
They met in the orchard of the family's apple trees. In this Draft, red cords had been tied around the trees: every fruit was considered a promise from the family to the future. If an apple fell before its time, the gardener surrendered a year of life. And so the fruit hung heavy, overripe and almost black, and no one dared to pick it.
"Is this because of Shani?" Lissa asked.
"Yes."
"You gave up years for a maid."
"For a witness."
"Don't hide behind the word."
Elian wanted to answer sharply, but Lissa was right. He had called Shani a witness because that made it easier not to think of her as a person who had aged because of him.
"For Shani," he said.
Lissa nodded.
"Thank you."
He had not expected that.
"She's your maid."
"She is someone close to me. That is not the same thing."
For a moment, they felt like brother and sister again. Then the branches behind Lissa stirred without wind.
Miran drew her blade before Elian saw Nim.
The Corrector stood between the apple trees. Grey cloak, smooth face, unadorned hands. He was in no hurry. The gardeners looked away and withdrew as soon as they noticed him.
The fruit began to fall from the branches.
One after another.
The gardeners by the far gate cried out, clutching their faces. Years were being taken from them for promises they had not broken.
Lissa took a step back.
The red thread at her throat flared.
The system responded:
"Lissa Vern has been selected as the Corrector's target. A preserved name may be used for protection."
Elian froze.
Lissa's name arose in Elian's memory. It felt different from the names of Shani, Miran, Orm, Tavel and Vestra: his bond with his sister had existed long before the first Draft.
The system continued:
"Price: in every Draft, Lissa will forget the person who used her name."
Lissa watched him, not understanding what he was hearing. But Tavel already knew.
The archivist appeared by the garden wall with an empty book in his hands. He was breathing heavily after running all the way from the library.
"Do not surrender her name," he said.
Miran tried to parry Nim's first blow, but the Corrector altered the distance between them, and her blade cut through empty air.
"Tavel!" Elian shouted.
"If you surrender Lissa's name, she will survive," the archivist said. "The oath will weaken, and Savern will no longer be able to control her."
"Speak faster."
"But in no Draft will she ever remember you as her brother again. She will not be able to hate you, forgive you or search for you. The Empty Throne will leave her life but take away her memory of you."
Lissa heard him.
Understanding replaced the fear on her face.
"Elian."
Nim turned his smooth face towards her.
The red thread at Lissa's throat turned black.
The system said:
"The name may be used for payment."
Elian took a step towards his sister.
The decision seemed simple: surrender the name, save Lissa, then look for a way to restore her memory. He could convince himself that life mattered more than memories.
Perhaps Savern had once decided to strike Mayra out in the same way: not out of cruelty, but because he believed it was the only way to save someone.
Elian stopped.
"No."
The system fell silent.
Even Nim went still for a moment.
Lissa whispered:
"You're choosing my memory over my life?"
The answer did not come easily to Elian.
"I will not decide for you which part of you matters more. If you tell me to surrender the name, I will."
Lissa opened her mouth, but Nim had already raised his hand.
Miran lunged at Nim again. This time she did not try to wound him, but pushed Lissa aside and took the blow herself. It left neither wound nor bruise on her shoulder, but for several moments Elian forgot her name.
Orm ran up to the garden gates. The Council's executioner was not charged with guarding the apple trees, but after the Draft of Debt he had begun seeking out those who tried to kill without a lawful formula.
"Corrector!" Orm called.
Nim turned.
Orm raised his sword.
"An execution without a recognised formula is invalid."
Formally, Nim was executing no one: he altered what happened and did not answer to the Council's laws. Orm was trying to force the Draft to recognise the Corrector's actions as an execution without a lawful sentence.
The formula took effect.
A dark line appeared on the ground between Nim and Lissa.
The system responded:
"Dispute over the price accepted."
Orm stepped across the line.
He began to age at once.
Not by days, as Shani had, nor by years, as Elian had. Quickly, cruelly, without dignity. His hair turned grey. His hands withered. The sword trembled but did not fall.
"Orm!" Elian shouted.
The executioner did not even look at him.
"I kill only by a recognised formula," he said. "And if I must die, I want to know what for."
Nim touched the blade with two fingers.
The sword crumbled into black sand.
Orm fell to his knees.
Lissa was alive and still recognised Elian. Miran was breathing, clutching her shoulder. Shani stood by the gates, weeping almost soundlessly, afraid of incurring another debt.
But Orm Hal, the first man who could prove a false execution with a formula, now looked at Elian through an old man's eyes.
"Now you know the price of refusal," he said.
Elian knelt beside him.
"I did not want to pay with you."
"No one does. That is why debts exist."
He tried to smile. He could not.
"When you return to the Council of all versions… make me pronounce the formula again."
"Will you be alive?"
Orm closed his eyes.
"If the system still preserves my name."
The system responded without mercy:
"Witness Orm Hal has been lost in one Draft. Proof of the formula is unavailable until the next Draft."
Nim disappeared among the apple trees, leaving behind falling fruit and aged gardeners who no longer remembered what they had paid for.
Lissa approached Elian.
She did not embrace him.
Did not forgive him.
But she said:
"I will remember that you did not spend me."
To Elian, that meant more than any recognition.
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