That night, they stayed in bed longer than usual. Aira rested her head on Kael's chest, his fingers combing lazily through her hair.
"I think I've lived before," she whispered.
"I know I have," he replied.
Their kisses were softer now. Unhurried. Each touch felt sacred. Like they were relearning each other from different lifetimes.
But just as Kael's lips found her throat, Aira's body froze.
Someone was watching.
She sat up, heart racing. "We're not alone."
Kael grabbed his sword—out of instinct more than memory.
Outside, a figure stood at the tree line. Tall. Wrapped in midnight robes. No face. No movement.
Only eyes. Pale, almost glowing.
Then it vanished.
Kael stepped outside, but there was no sign. No tracks in the snow. No sound in the wind.
Aira's blood ran cold.
"I've seen that figure before," she said. "In a memory… right before I died."