The wind whispered secrets through the trees as Aryan followed Aelira deeper into the glade, each step echoing with silent questions. She walked ahead without fear, her bare feet gliding across roots and stone, as if the forest had known her for lifetimes. As if it bowed to her presence.
Aryan kept his guard up, the flicker of flame ever-present behind his gaze. Yet… there was no hostility in her movements. Only sorrow. And familiarity that unsettled him.
"You said you've dreamed of me," he finally spoke, his voice low and guarded. "Who told you my name?"
Aelira stopped beneath an ancient willow, its drooping branches glowing faintly in the moonlight. She turned slowly, and in that moment, Aryan saw it again—the eyes that shimmered like twin reflections of a forgotten past.
"No one told me," she said. "I saw you. In fire. In pain. In endings."
Her words sent a chill through his spine.
"You called for someone," she continued. "Over and over. A name I couldn't hear clearly. But I felt your grief… as if it was mine."
He clenched his fists. "And you followed that pain?"
"I followed you."
The silence between them pulsed like a heartbeat.
Aelira knelt beside a pool of water, tracing her fingers across its surface. "There's a flame inside me. I don't know where it came from. But sometimes… when I close my eyes, I feel like I'm someone else. Or maybe… something else is watching through me."
Aryan stepped forward. His Flame Seed stirred violently, responding not to danger—but resonance. Recognition.
"You're not lying," he said more to himself than her.
She smiled faintly. "I wish I were. Maybe then, I wouldn't wake up screaming your name."
Aryan's breath caught. The night felt thinner, the stars brighter.
Aelira wasn't just a girl drawn to him by chance.
She was a thread, tangled deep in fate.
And fate… was never kind.
He knelt beside her, close enough to feel the warmth that radiated from her skin. Not the warmth of life—but of something deeper. Older.
"Tell me," he said. "Do you remember the moonfire?"
Her eyes widened.
"Yes," she whispered. "White flames under a black sky. And a kiss that tasted like goodbye."
Aryan's heart thundered.
That wasn't a dream.
That was a memory.
Our memory.
But Lirael Yue had died in his arms. He had seen it—felt it. This girl… was not her.
And yet…
"You shouldn't exist," Aryan murmured.
Aelira looked up. "Then neither should you."
The flames within him stirred restlessly, and in that moment, the ground beneath them pulsed—subtle, dark, and ancient. Something was listening. Watching. Waiting.
Aelira gasped, clutching her chest.
"The dreams," she said, breathless. "They're not just about you. Something else is coming."
Aryan stood, his eyes narrowing toward the woods.
"No," he said, voice steady. "It's already here."
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Author's Note — R.E. Solcrest:
Who is Aelira? What binds her soul to Aryan's past? The mysteries are deepening, and the flames of fate are only growing stronger. If you felt the sparks this chapter, don't forget to comment and add the story to your library! Chapter 18 will reveal even more…