For a moment, Lyra forgot how to breathe.
Kael stood only a few steps away, close enough for her to see the faint scar across his jaw, the tired shadows beneath his eyes, and the quiet storm lingering in them—like he had fought battles she couldn't begin to imagine.
Yet there was something gentle in the way he looked at her, something fragile… something dangerous.
Lyra swallowed hard.
"I think you've mistaken me for someone else," she said, though her voice wavered. "We've never met."
A small, almost broken smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"I wish that were true," Kael murmured. "It would make everything easier."
That made her heart stutter.
"Easier?" she repeated.
Kael nodded slowly, his gaze drifting to the glowing branches overhead.
"Because if I could pretend you meant nothing… I might have a chance to walk away."
Lyra felt a small shiver run through her—fear mixed with… something she didn't want to name yet.
She took a careful step back. "Why would you need to walk away from me?"
His jaw tightened, like he was fighting with himself.
"Because fate has a cruel sense of humor," he whispered.
Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. She could hear the soft hum of magic in the trees, feel the strange tug in her chest growing stronger. Kael wasn't just a stranger—he was the echo she had felt her whole life.
"Tell me how you know my name," Lyra said softly.
Kael's eyes flickered back to hers.
"Because I've seen you."
"In a dream?"
"Not exactly." He hesitated. "Your face… your voice… they appear every time I try to outrun my destiny."
Lyra's breath hitched.
A part of her wanted to run.
Another part wanted to step closer, to ask a thousand questions.
So she chose the safest one.
"What are you?"
Kael huffed a quiet laugh. "A mistake, according to some. A threat, according to others."
"That's not an answer."
He studied her for a long moment, then sighed.
"I'm… from the Draven line."
Lyra's eyes widened instantly.
The Dravens were royalty—or had been, before the kingdom turned against them. Their name was spoken only in whispers, usually followed by stories of exile, rebellion, and forbidden magic.
"You're— you're the exiled prince," Lyra breathed.
Kael flinched, just slightly.
"Not much of a prince anymore."
That should have frightened her.
It didn't.
Instead, she felt something else—an unexpected ache.
"What does someone like you want with someone like me?" she asked quietly.
Kael stepped closer, slow enough not to startle her.
"Lyra," he said softly, "the moment you touched that memory… I felt it."
A chill ran through her spine.
"Felt what?"
"A pull. Like the world was telling me, 'She's here.'"
Her breath trembled.
He continued, voice low and honest:
"You're connected to the prophecy. To me. And if I'm right…"
He hesitated, searching her eyes.
"You've felt it too, haven't you? That strange tug in your heart. That… knowing."
Lyra opened her mouth to deny it—
to tell him she didn't feel anything,
that she was normal,
that none of this made sense—
But the words wouldn't come.
Because she had felt it.
Her whole life.
She lowered her gaze. "I don't understand any of this."
Kael stepped forward until he was close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, close enough that her heartbeat tried to jump out of her chest.
"You're not meant to understand it yet," he whispered. "You're only meant to feel it."
A soft breeze rustled the glowing leaves above them.
Lyra looked up at Kael again—and for the first time, she saw something hidden behind the storm in his eyes:
Fear.
He was afraid of her.
Afraid for her.
Afraid of what they were to each other.
"What happens now?" she asked quietly.
Kael exhaled like the question hurt him.
"Now," he said, "I try to keep my distance."
Her chest tightened painfully.
"Why?"
"Because fate has already taken too much from the people I care about."
His voice broke just a little.
"And I promised myself it wouldn't take you too."
Lyra stared at him, stunned and breathless.
"I don't even know you," she whispered.
Kael gave her a soft, tragic smile.
"That's the cruel part," he said.
"You don't know me…
but somewhere deep inside, I think you already love me."
Her heart stopped.
Before she could speak, before she could even breathe, Kael stepped back—
one step, then another—
as if forcing himself to let go of something fate was shoving into his hands.
"Stay away from me, Lyra," he said, voice low and aching.
"For both our sakes."
Then he turned—
and vanished into the glowing trees,
leaving Lyra alone with a heart she suddenly wasn't sure belonged to her anymore.