Rowan Valemore sat behind the sleek glass desk of his corner office, the city lights casting faint reflections across the polished surface. Even now, hours after waking, the remnants of the dream clung to him—the blood-soaked marble floors, the pyre, and the vague, haunting presence of someone he didn't yet know. Her face had been impossible to see, yet the energy of her—fragile, determined, alive—was etched into his memory.
His chest still felt tight, as if the dream's cold fingers had followed him into the waking world. His mind raced, grappling with the image of the blood-soaked marble, the stranger whose back was turned, and the echo of a presence he couldn't name… yet couldn't forget.
He shook himself, trying to dismiss it as nothing more than vivid imagination. Yet the instinct that had taken root in his chest refused to let go. Something was pulling him toward her, and though he didn't know her yet, he could sense that their paths were meant to cross.
Rowan's eyes shifted to the file on his desk: A redevelopment project. He had been overseeing a major reconstruction effort, leaving him little time for anything else.The land held historical significance, tied to rare artifacts and architectural importance—exactly the kind of property that demanded careful handling. And it wasn't just a business opportunity; it felt strangely personal, as though the land itself was calling to him. The archaeological director managing the site? Aurelia Thorne.
Aurelia. The name alone intrigued him, though he had never met her. He hadn't seen her face in reality, hadn't heard her voice—yet the dream had made her unforgettable. Business dealings were meant to be impersonal, but this one carried a weight he couldn't explain.
He had a meeting scheduled with the CEO later that morning to finalize the acquisition arrangements. Professional. Straightforward. Nothing unusual about it.
Except that it didn't feel usual at all.
---
Meanwhile, Aurelia was in her office, surrounded by the quiet hum of her team. Papers, sketches, and excavation plans were scattered across her desk, and she moved between them with practiced ease. Victor, her assistant, stood by the coffee machine, which had decided—once again—to be spectacularly uncooperative.
"I think it's mocking me," Victor muttered, pressing buttons with increasing aggression.
Aurelia glanced up from her notes. "Have you tried asking it nicely?"
"I tried threatening it. That didn't work either."
She smiled faintly. "Maybe it needs a vacation."
"If it starts demanding benefits, I'm filing a complaint."
Her team chuckled quietly, the small exchange cutting through the intensity of the work. For all the weight archaeology carried, Aurelia had a way of keeping the atmosphere light—small reminders that not everything ancient, demanded reverence.
Still, her thoughts kept drifting back to the tile. The cold. The vision. The man she couldn't see.
She shook her head and returned to the reports in front of her.
---
By the time Rowan arrived at the building, the morning sun had climbed higher in the sky. He had reviewed the acquisition reports meticulously, noting the historical significance of the plot, the potential for redevelopment, and the subtle risk factors involved. The property was a solid investment—practical, promising.
Yet the name of the project tugged at something deeper, some forgotten corner of his memory he couldn't quite reach.
He stepped into the lobby, nodding briefly to the receptionist as he made his way toward the elevators. The building was busy, people moving between floors with the efficient rhythm of a workday in motion.
He pressed the button and waited.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.
A woman stepped inside, carrying a stack of documents, her hair pulled back loosely, a slight crease of concentration on her forehead. She didn't look up, her attention absorbed by whatever was written on the top page.
Rowan stepped in after her.
And then—something shifted.
He couldn't explain it. A sudden tightness in his chest, an odd heaviness in the air that hadn't been there a moment before. He didn't know this woman. Had never seen her before in his life.
Yet something felt... familiar.
Wrong word. Not familiar. Present. As if the space between them carried a weight that shouldn't exist between strangers.
He frowned slightly, shaking off the sensation. Lack of sleep. The dream still lingering in his mind. That's all it was.
She glanced up briefly—just a polite acknowledgment of shared space—and pressed the button for her floor.
He did the same for his.
The elevator hummed upward.
Rowan kept his gaze forward, but he was unsettlingly aware of her presence. The way she shifted her weight slightly. The faint sound of paper rustling as she adjusted her grip. The quiet focus that seemed to radiate from her without effort.
It bothered him that he noticed.
He didn't make a habit of paying attention to strangers in elevators.
So why now?
When the elevator stopped at her floor, she stepped out, heels clicking softly against the tile. She didn't look back.
The doors slid closed.
Rowan exhaled slowly, running a hand through his dark hair.
That was... strange.
He couldn't place what had just happened. The odd pull, the inexplicable awareness. It made no sense. She was just another professional in the building. Someone he'd likely never see again.
And yet the feeling lingered—unsettling, unexplained.
He shook his head, forcing himself to refocus on the meeting ahead.
Back in her office, Aurelia set the documents down on her desk and frowned slightly.
Something had felt… off.
Not wrong. Just—off.
She glanced back toward the door, as if the answer might be waiting in the hallway.
Victor looked up from his war with the coffee machine. "You okay?"
Aurelia blinked, shaking off the odd sensation. "Yeah. Just… thought I forgot something."
"Did you?"
She paused, considering. "I don't think so."
Victor shrugged and returned to his battle.
Aurelia turned back to her work, but the strange feeling lingered—a faint pull she couldn't name, like the echo of something just out of reach.
As Rowan stepped off the elevator and made his way toward the CEO's office, he couldn't quite shake the strange encounter. The woman from the elevator lingered in his thoughts—not her face, not her name, just the inexplicable feeling she'd left behind.
But in the quiet, suspended moments between the hum of machinery and the distant city lights, something unspoken was building—a pull, an inevitability, a shadow of memory that neither of them could yet name.