The dream began like a whisper—too faint to notice, too persistent to ignore.
Aira stood in a hall bathed in golden light, her bare feet brushing against an ancient mosaic floor. The air was fragrant with crushed roses, mingled with something metallic—blood? Her gaze shifted upward. Pillars carved with ancient runes stretched endlessly into the sky, and at the far end, beneath a veil of gauze, stood a throne of bone.
She knew this place.
And yet she didn't.
A soft voice—his voice—echoed from behind the veil.
"Lirien. You were never meant to forget me."
She took a step forward, then another. Her hands trembled as she reached out to the curtain, a silken membrane that seemed to pulse like a heartbeat. She pulled it aside.
There he was.
Eiran.
But he looked... different. His silver eyes glowed faintly, as if lit by starlight. His black robe was stained crimson. A crown of twisted obsidian hovered above his brow, fractured down the center. His lips curled in that half-smile—haunting, devastating.
"You left me in the memory. Now you've come back to finish it."
Her breath caught. "No. I never wanted to leave you."
He stepped closer, hand extended. "Then don't leave again."
She reached out—and touched him.
Suddenly, pain exploded behind her eyes. The dream shattered like glass, and Aira was ripped from it, screaming.
Aira awoke in a cold sweat, her body tangled in damp sheets. Kael was already at her side, his hand cupping her cheek, eyes dark with worry.
"You're burning up," he whispered. "That wasn't just a dream, was it?"
She could barely speak, but she nodded.
"You saw him again," Kael said. It wasn't a question.
Aira closed her eyes, trying to steady her breath. The dream had left a residue—a memory that didn't belong to her present self, but to Lirien. And yet, she could feel the longing in her chest. The ache.
How can someone from another lifetime still make my heart race like this?
Kael kissed her forehead gently, but she didn't miss the tension in his jaw. He was jealous—not just of a man, but of a memory.
"There's more," she murmured. "That throne… the veil… it's where he died. Where I—where she—left him. But it felt unfinished."
Kael stiffened. "You're slipping deeper into that past, Aira. Every time you dream of him, you come back… less."
She swallowed, unable to argue. He was right. But something inside her whispered that going back was the only way forward.
Later that day, Kael left her to meet Sareth, hoping the older guardian had deciphered the runes from the crumbled wall they'd found earlier
Aira, alone again, stared at her hands.
They had touched so many memories. Opened so many doors.
And one of them—one she hadn't opened willingly—was opening itself.
She walked to the mirror. Her reflection stared back with storm-tossed eyes. Her heartbeat quickened. She raised her hand—
And saw blood on her palm.
Not real blood—memory blood.
She had touched something while dreaming.
"What did I touch?" she whispered.
The library was cold and dusty, but quiet enough to think. Aira pulled out the scroll Kael had been translating. She flipped past the translation notes and focused on the illustration.
The Veiled Throne.
It wasn't just a symbol of royalty. It was a seal. A magical prison.
Her eyes widened. "He's not just a memory," she gasped. "He's trapped in that memory."
Aira's hands trembled. If Eiran was imprisoned in the past, then every time she touched it—entered it—she was breaking the lock.
"No wonder he wants me to stay," she whispered. "If I stay... I become the key."
That night, as the moon rose high, Aira couldn't sleep. The weight of the truth pressed against her skin like chains. Her desire to go back, to see him again, wasn't just emotional. It was magnetic. Magical.
She lit a single candle, sat cross-legged in front of the mirror, and touched her own reflection's hand.
Time shifted.
She was back in the throne room.
Only now, it was night.
Torches lined the chamber. The floor was streaked with runes glowing faint blue.
And Eiran was waiting.
"I knew you'd return," he murmured.
She walked to him, slower this time, aware of every heartbeat. Every breath. The air between them shimmered.
"You lied to me," she said softly. "You're not dead. You're trapped."
He didn't deny it.
"Because of the curse I took willingly," he said. "To protect you. And to keep others from ever using this power again."
"But now I'm undoing the seal."
"You are." He stepped closer. "And I don't regret it."
He reached for her.
"Stay with me."
Aira's heart raced. Her past life had loved him so completely, so desperately, that it had fractured time itself. And now... she wasn't sure if she was Lirien anymore. Or Aira. Or both.
But her body remembered his. Her soul did too.
When he kissed her, it wasn't gentle.
It was desperate. Consuming.
His lips moved against hers like he was starving for her. His hands cradled her waist, pulling her closer, until her body pressed against the silk and leather of his tunic. Her fingers slid up his chest, her mouth opening beneath his, welcoming him, remembering him.
Their kiss deepened, raw with longing and grief.
> "I can't stay," she whispered breathlessly.
> "Then let me come with you."
Her eyes filled with tears.
> "You're a fragment. A soul without time."
> "Then anchor me."
Her hand trembled as she touched his chest—right over the faint scar. She felt the heartbeat that shouldn't exist.
She stepped back, heart torn in two.
"If I take you back... I might lose Kael. I might lose myself."
He said nothing. Just watched her.
And then, he whispered:
"You already did."