Therrin's POV
The forest was still, painted in the muted golds of a waning afternoon. Light filtered through the canopy like broken glass, dappling the soft moss beneath Therrin's bare feet. She stood at the center of a glade she'd discovered days earlier — far enough from camp that no one would hear her if she screamed.
Or whispered secrets into the soil.
The shadows around her curled and swirled like slow smoke, dancing over her arms, rising up from her spine like breath held too long. Magic pooled in her chest, heavy and hot. It burned with a strange ache she couldn't name — equal parts hunger and longing.
Therrin closed her eyes and reached inward.
Nyx's voice no longer echoed through her like it had in the beginning. There were no commands now. No direction. Just the beating of her heart and the shimmer of something buried deeper than thought — older than memory.
"Show me," she whispered to the air. "Whatever I need to see… show me."
The shadow answered.
Heat bloomed from her fingertips and the earth quivered. Power gathered, laced with something slippery and strange — something that wasn't entirely hers.
Then it began.
First: the scent of jasmine, heady and sweet, too strong for this time of year.
Then: petals. White, soft as breath, falling around her like snow.
Her knees buckled. The magic pulled her under.
She was lying on her back in a moonlit garden, surrounded by those same petals — now stained crimson at the edges, though she didn't know why. She felt no fear. Just cold.
A man hovered over her, silhouette blurred by tears she hadn't known she'd shed. She couldn't see his face.
But she knew the way his hand cradled hers.
The way he trembled when he whispered, "I'm so sorry. I was too late."
She reached for him, but her hand wouldn't move.
He pressed a kiss to her brow. "I'll find you again. I swear it."
Darkness folded in, like curtains closing on a stage.
Therrin gasped and stumbled back into herself, knees crashing to the forest floor.
Her breath tore in and out of her lungs, her body slick with sweat despite the chill. The petals were gone, the garden vanished, but the feeling — the ache — remained.
She'd known that voice.
Not just from the dream. From… somewhere else.
Her fingers dug into the moss beneath her, grounding herself. "Who are you?" she whispered aloud.
But she already knew. Somehow.
It was Ciaran.
She didn't know how long she sat there, but when she finally moved, the sky had darkened to deep blue. Crickets stirred in the brush, and the world seemed to exhale with her.
A soft rustle behind her made her spine stiffen.
"Therrin?" His voice.
She didn't turn right away.
"I didn't mean to intrude," Ciaran said quietly. "But your magic was… loud."
She finally looked back at him. He stood a few paces away, arms crossed loosely, not crowding her but clearly worried. His shirt was damp from the walk, leaves tangled in his hair.
"You felt it?" she asked, voice rasping from disuse.
He nodded. "All the way back at camp."
Therrin stared at her hands. The shadows had retreated, leaving faint silver lines on her skin — like veins lit from within.
"I saw something," she murmured.
His gaze sharpened. "A vision?"
"Memories," she corrected, slowly standing. "Maybe. I don't know. It felt like… another life."
Silence stretched between them.
Therrin tried to speak, but the words felt too fragile. The memory was still raw, stitched too close to her heart. She didn't want to share it — not yet. Not until she understood what it meant.
Ciaran stepped closer, carefully, as if she were something sacred.
"You don't have to explain," he said softly. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
She searched his face. There was kindness there. But more than that — understanding.
Because maybe he'd seen it too. Maybe not the same vision, but something that told him they weren't strangers after all.
Therrin took a small step forward, enough that their fingers brushed. "You said once that you remembered me. That we'd known each other before."
His breath hitched, but he didn't look away.
"I didn't believe you," she continued. "But now… I think I saw you."
He didn't smile. Didn't gloat. He just reached for her hand and held it like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"I promised I'd find you again," he said, voice trembling.
She froze.
That was exactly what the voice had said in the vision. The same words. The same cadence.
She looked up at him sharply, but he shook his head. "I didn't remember until just now. Not fully. But… those were my words."
A chill slid down her spine.
This was real.
She wasn't just imagining it. The visions weren't fantasy. They were pieces of something larger — a life buried beneath the one she knew.
They didn't speak for a while after that. Ciaran led her back toward a small clearing not far from where she'd collapsed. A blanket lay stretched across the grass, scattered with petals and two warm plates of food — a romantic dinner, clearly planned for later.
"I was going to surprise you," he said, a little sheepish. "You weren't at the tent, so I figured I'd wait."
"You cooked?" she asked, amusement softening the tension in her body.
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Cooked might be generous. I scavenged. But it's edible."
Therrin sat slowly, the warmth of the blanket grounding her. Ciaran joined her, their shoulders brushing.
The meal was simple — roasted root vegetables, bread still warm from the campfire, wild berries in a small bowl between them. But she hadn't tasted anything that good in days.
As they ate, the tension melted. Ciaran told her about the first time they met — not in this life, but a dream he'd had once. A quiet garden with a bleeding moon. A promise sealed in blood and shadow.
She didn't know if he was remembering the same life she had seen. But the similarities were enough to leave her breathless.
"I think," she said quietly, "that whatever we were… it didn't end well."
Ciaran's jaw tightened. "No. But this time will be different."
Therrin wanted to believe him. But the weight of prophecy and darkness pressed against her ribs.
She looked at him then, really looked — the moonlight catching the edge of his jaw, the curve of his lips. There was a tenderness there, one he didn't try to hide. A reverence.
"You're not afraid of what I'm becoming?" she asked, voice barely audible.
He turned to face her, hand lifting to gently brush a strand of hair behind her ear. "No," he whispered. "I think you're becoming who you've always been."
And then his lips found hers.
It wasn't frantic or rushed — just warm. Sure. As if it wasn't their first kiss at all, but a continuation of something old.
Her heart stuttered in her chest. The shadows inside her purred instead of recoiled.
When they parted, she leaned her forehead against his, eyes fluttering closed.
"You remember more than you say," she murmured.
"Maybe," he admitted. "But I think you're the one who carries the truth."
Therrin pulled back just enough to look at him. "And if I don't want it?"
His smile was small, but sincere. "Then I'll carry it for both of us."
Later, they lay on the blanket, her head resting on his chest, fingers loosely entwined. The stars overhead shimmered like watchful eyes.
Therrin stared up at them, heartbeat calm but mind still racing. Her magic thrummed under her skin, alive but no longer chaotic. It felt… clearer now. More hers.
She didn't know what the memories meant — not yet. But she knew how they made her feel.
Less alone.
More whole.
And when Ciaran whispered her name like a vow, she let herself believe — just for a moment — that maybe this life wouldn't end the way the last one had.
Not if she had a choice.
And for the first time, she believed she did.