He had begun to name them then... the pieces of history that refused to fit, no matter how the scholars rearranged the dates.
The gaps in their language where certain concepts simply didn't exist, as if the words had been deliberately pruned from the mind of the world.
He spoke of the dragons and the ancestors, and how the "standard explanations" felt less like history and more like a pretty, painted screen built to cover a void.
Then his tone had shifted, becoming more intimate, more vulnerable. He was deciding to tell her the real reason he had vanished into the dark forest all those years ago.
