The dream didn't fade this time.
When Elara opened her eyes, the air felt thicker, charged—as if reality was no longer hers alone. Mist curled beneath her feet, silver tendrils that kissed her ankles and crept like silent ghosts. The forest loomed, shadowed in half-light, and the sky above bled violet and black. It was familiar. Too familiar. The kind of dream that made her heart forget it was dreaming.
And he was there again.
Kael.
Or… the boy who called himself Kael.
He stood beneath the twisted willow that hung like a weeping sentinel, bathed in moonlight that seemed to recognize him. Not just illuminate him, but cling to him, as though it mourned with him. He looked the same—lithe frame draped in dark fabric, raven-black hair tousled, silver chain hanging at his neck.
But his eyes. Those weren't Kael's eyes. Not entirely. They glimmered with the pain of someone who had seen too much, lost too much, and still dared to hope.
"Elara," he said, voice low, velvet wrapped in smoke.
She froze. The way he said her name—it wasn't casual. It was reverent. Like a prayer. Like a curse.
"You came back," he whispered.
"I didn't choose to."
"Didn't you?"
His smile curved slightly, the barest hint of sadness at its edge. He stepped forward, boots silent against the damp earth. And though she had seen him before—this wasn't the first time in the dream—there was a tension tonight. Something different in the way his presence folded into hers.
"You dreamed of me," she said, eyes narrowing.
"You called me," he corrected, stopping inches from her. "I just answered."
"I didn't call anyone."
His gaze darkened—not in anger, but in something deeper. Resignation. Sorrow.
"You forget," he said. "But I don't. You buried me, Elara. But not deep enough."
Her stomach twisted. "What does that mean?"
Kael looked past her shoulder, into the trees. "I waited," he said. "For the fire to fade. For you to remember. But he got to you first."
She blinked. "Who?"
"Lucien."
Her breath caught. "He… he saved me."
Kael's eyes met hers again. They were sea-glass now—cold, beautiful, dangerous. "Did he?"
The wind shifted. It carried whispers. Laughter. Screaming. The crackle of flames. Her heart pounded.
"You were there," she murmured. "The fire. The night Lucien—"
"I was the fire," Kael said quietly. "I was the scream. The ash. The boy who died and came back wearing a different name."
Elara stumbled backward.
"No."
He stepped forward. "Yes."
She shook her head, tears threatening. "Kael isn't—he can't be—"
"I am Raphael," he said. "And I never stopped loving you."
The words punched the breath from her lungs.
Raphael.
The name she had whispered in her sleep for months after the fire. The name that haunted the house Lucien brought her to. The name that was never spoken aloud again.
"I watched you," Kael—Raphael—continued. "I watched you smile for him. Trust him. While I screamed from the shadows."
"I didn't know!" she cried. "I didn't know you were alive!"
"I wasn't," he said. "Not truly. Not without you."
Silence fell between them. Thick. Tangled. Choking.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I wanted you to choose me," he said. "Without memory. Without guilt. But you didn't."
Tears slipped down her cheeks. "I didn't remember. I—Lucien never told me. He said you died."
"He lied."
Elara looked up, a storm building in her chest. "He told me he found me alone in the ruins. That there was no one left."
Raphael's jaw clenched. "He took you. From the flames. From me."
"I was unconscious—"
"I know."
She swallowed hard. "You said you burned."
"I did. For you. With you. I begged the gods to let me return. And they did."
Her blood ran cold. "You died?"
His hand hovered near hers. "Something worse. I became someone else. I forgot my name. My love. My soul. Until I saw you again."
Elara shook her head, heart thudding wildly. "This is a dream. A nightmare."
"No."
His fingers brushed hers.
"This is the truth you locked away."
A spark jumped between them. Elara gasped, stumbling back.
Memories. Flashes.
A boy with bright eyes, handing her a rose.
Laughter in a meadow.
A promise whispered beneath the stars: "No matter what, I'll find you."
"I remember," she whispered. "I… I remember you."
Raphael's expression softened. "Then choose."
"What?"
"Choose me. Before the shadows do."
"What shadows?"
The wind grew colder. A black shape moved at the edge of the dream. Watching.
"You're not safe with him," Raphael said.
"Lucien?"
"He bound you. Marked you. You can't see it, but I can."
Elara looked at her wrist. It pulsed faintly. A shimmer beneath her skin.
"What is it?"
"His claim."
She stared. "But I…"
"You feel it, don't you? The guilt. The ache. That's not yours. That's him, inside your soul."
Elara backed away. "I need to wake up."
"Don't leave me again," Raphael said, voice cracking.
"I have to think—"
He stepped forward and pressed something into her palm.
A silver ring.
She looked down. It bore a strange symbol—a flame wrapped around a heart.
"Wear it," he said. "It'll protect you. Until you remember everything."
The dream began to crack. Light bled in.
"No! Not yet—"
"I'll find you," Raphael promised. "I always do."
"Elara," he whispered, his voice fading, "Don't trust him. Don't let him touch your soul again."
And then he was gone.
Elara gasped awake in bed, her sheets tangled, her body drenched in sweat. Her hand still clutched something.
The silver ring.
It was real.
She sat up, shaking. Heart pounding. Breath uneven.
Outside, the wind howled. And down the hall, she swore she heard a voice.
Lucien, calling her name.
But it wasn't soothing anymore.
It sounded like a warning.
And her hand? It glowed faintly, where the ring now rested.
She looked out her window. Into the dark.
And whispered: "Raphael…"