Elena stirred her coffee slowly, the steam curling up to kiss her face. The city beyond her apartment window was waking up, but inside her head, last night hadn't ended.
Aiden.
His voice.
The kiss.
It all felt too vivid, too deliberate to be a drunken blur. No matter how much she tried to shake it off, the echo of his name lingered, like a spell she couldn't break.
She blinked and shook her head. "Get it together," she whispered, standing abruptly.
The scent of vanilla and cinnamon lingered from her morning routine. She slipped into black jeans and an oversized sweater, brushing her hair back roughly, the eyeliner wing on her eyelid trembling slightly. Nothing—coffee, music, routine—could drown the flicker of him from her mind.
Even stepping into the university halls didn't help. The world seemed too loud, too bright. She moved through lectures like a ghost—nodding absentmindedly, pretending to listen, scribbling notes she would forget. Her mind stayed in the dim corners of the club, where a stranger had spoken her name as though it belonged to him.
And every time she closed her eyes, she saw the moment that had burned into her memory: his face inches from hers, the accidental kiss that felt like fate had slipped its hand in. Something about him didn't just feel familiar. It felt ancient.
By late afternoon, her hands itched to draw again. She opened her sketchpad, pencil poised, and froze. There it was—the face she hadn't consciously drawn.
Aiden.
Beneath his eyes, a symbol she had never seen before, yet somehow… she knew it.
"Elena."
The voice cut through her haze, sharp but not unkind.
She blinked. Her hand froze over the sketchpad. Dr. Marek, her professor, stood beside her desk, eyes narrowing behind round glasses. His usual thoughtful stance seemed heavier now, almost searching.
"You seem… somewhere far from here," he said, glancing down at the sketchpad.
Her stomach twisted. The sketch stared back at them—Aiden's eyes intense, the strange symbol beneath still fresh in dark pencil strokes.
"That's… quite the drawing," Dr. Marek murmured.
Elena moved to close the pad, embarrassed, but his hand gently stopped her. His gaze was sharper now, more focused, studying not just the art, but her.
"This mark," he said quietly, pointing to the symbol. "Where did you see it?"
Elena swallowed. "I—I'm not sure. I just… drew it."
He tilted his head, as though weighing her answer. "Do you believe in memory through blood?"
She frowned. "Excuse me?"
"Never mind." His expression softened, but the weight behind his eyes didn't fade. "Stay back after class. I need to talk to you."
He walked away, leaving a tension in the air that lingered like smoke.
Elena looked back at the symbol. It seemed to pulse in her mind, as though it had meaning—waiting for her to understand it.
Her heart beat faster. Something about all this felt bigger than her. Maybe… older than her life itself.
After Class — Dr. Marek's Office
The hallway outside the lecture hall was empty. Elena walked slowly, sketchpad hugged to her chest, mind racing. Who was Aiden? Why was the symbol so familiar? Why had her professor recognized it?
Dr. Marek's office was dim, lined with shelves of old books, scrolls, and relics she had never noticed before. Ancient, strange, almost otherworldly.
He gestured for her to sit.
"Elena," he began, his tone softening, "what I'm about to tell you might sound unbelievable. But you must listen carefully."
She nodded, unsure if she was ready.
"That symbol you drew… it's not just a random mark. It's ancient. From a forgotten dialect, known only to a few bloodlines." He opened a leather-bound book and turned it toward her. There it was—the same mark—etched in faded ink beside a name: Ael'Tar.
"That's the mark of a Watcher."
Elena froze. "A… what?"
"A Watcher," he repeated. "Beings from another realm. Guardians—or sometimes hunters—of chosen bloodlines. And the fact that you drew it means he's found you."
She sat back in her chair, disbelief prickling her skin.
"You're saying… that guy from the club… Aiden…?"
"Is not just a guy from the club," Dr. Marek interrupted. His gaze sharpened. "He's bound to your fate, Elena. And this isn't the first time your bloodline has been touched by their realm."
Her breath caught.
"Your mother knew a Watcher once too," he added quietly.
Elena's mind spun. Her mother had always been secretive about her past—especially anything connected to dreams, symbols, or strange stories.
"My mother… knew him?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"Not him exactly. But a Watcher, yes," Dr. Marek said. "Many years ago, she was chosen, as you are now. But she walked away from that world, buried her past… and swore to keep you out of it."
Elena felt the room grow colder. The symbol on the page seemed to glow faintly under the dim office light.
"Why me? Why now?" she asked, shaking.
"Because the seal is breaking," he said gravely. "Something is returning, and they need you."
"They?" she asked.
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stood and pulled a long, narrow box from a locked cabinet. He opened it gently, revealing a pendant—ancient, delicate, glowing faintly with blue light. Her fingertips tingled as if the air itself had charged around it.
"This belonged to your mother," he said. "She asked me to protect it if anything happened to her. And now… it's yours."
Elena hesitated. Her fingers hovered over the pendant, then closed around it. The moment she touched it, a wave of warmth rushed through her chest. Her vision blurred, and an image flashed in her mind—Aiden standing in a dark place, looking directly at her.
"Elena," he whispered.
She gasped, pulling her hand back from the pendant.
"You see now," Dr. Marek said quietly, "he's reaching for you. But you must decide: follow your heart… or follow your destiny."
Her chest tightened. Her mind raced. Aiden. The symbol. The pendant.
Her phone buzzed suddenly on the desk.
Aiden: "You remember now, don't you?"
She stared at the screen, heart hammering.
That night wasn't the first time he had been near her—but it was the first she truly noticed.
And somehow… she knew it was only the beginning.