The carriage wheels turned slowly along the cobbled road, each echo swallowed by the serene hum of noon. Outside, the golden sunlight spilled through the leaves like liquid amber, painting the path in moving fragments of warmth. Amara sat by the window, her gloved fingers resting against the glass, her gaze lost to the gentle sway of the world beyond.
The road wound past quiet meadows and flowering fields. The fragrance of wild jasmine floated through the open window, brushing against her senses like a memory long forgotten. For the first time in days, the air felt tender, calm so unlike the heaviness that haunted her dreams.
When the carriage stopped, Elyss stepped forward to open the door, but Amara lifted a hand. "I shall walk from here," she said softly. Elyss only bowed in silence, and though Amara caught the flicker of unease in the maid's eyes, she ignored it. Her shoes met the grass, and the world suddenly felt… alive.
The hill ahead rose gently, crowned by a massive tree that reached into the heavens. It stood exactly as she remembered the same one she had seen from afar, the same place where she first glimpsed the man of bronze. Its wide branches swayed lazily, heavy with yellow blossoms that shimmered beneath the sunlight.
Amara walked toward it, her skirts brushing against the soft grass. The breeze whispered through her hair, and she could hear birds singing in a rhythm that almost sounded like distant laughter. There was something enchanting about that tree, as if it had been waiting for her return.
As she came closer, she tilted her head back, eyes tracing the golden petals that glowed against the blue sky. One flower caught her attention a small, delicate bloom clinging to a high branch. Its color mirrored the sunlight itself, vibrant and alive.
She reached for it.
The branch was just beyond her grasp. She stretched her arm higher, the hem of her dress brushing the roots beneath her feet. "Almost…" she whispered under her breath, her voice mingling with the sigh of the wind.
Then—
A hand appeared.
It was not hers.
A bronze hand, its skin kissed by sunlight, reached past her own and plucked the tiny flower from the branch. Amara froze. Her heart stilled, and for a breath, the entire world seemed to pause. She could feel him standing behind her, tall, his presence steady and warm like the afternoon light itself.
The flower descended slowly, held before her face. Its petals caught the glow of the sun as if the light belonged to it alone. The bronze fingers released it gently into her open palm.
Her breath trembled.
Even without turning, she knew. She knew it was him the same man from before, the one who haunted her thoughts, the one whose image would not leave her mind. The one who seemed to belong to the dream that refused to end.
Amara turned.
The world brightened.
There he was, standing in silence, his form almost blending with the light. He wore a simple white shirt, its sleeves slightly rolled, and every motion seemed unhurried, calm. The sunlight kissed his skin, deep bronze and smooth, as though sculpted from the warmth of the day itself. His hair was dark, his features sharp yet gentle, carrying that same air of strange familiarity.
But his eyes—
They were green.
Not the color she remembered. Not the deep, golden hue that had first drawn her in. These were the green of forests after the rain, alive yet distant, watching her with something she could not name.
Amara's lips parted slightly. Her hand, still holding the yellow flower, trembled. The sunlight flickered through the leaves above, painting both their faces in moving gold.
And in that moment, beneath the vast tree and the gleaming sky, she felt it again
That odd, unexplainable warmth that was not comfort… but connection.
Strange… his eyes.
Amara blinked, narrowing her gaze ever so slightly. The first time she saw him those eyes were brown, deep as earth beneath the rain. But now… they glimmered a cold, vivid green, almost catching the sunlight like glass.
"No… it's him," she whispered to herself, uncertain yet sure all at once. "It must be."
The man stood there, silent as the wind through the branches. His white shirt caught the soft gold of the sun, making his bronze skin glow faintly, as though light itself preferred him. Amara could feel her heart beat oddly fast though she wasn't sure if it was from fear, curiosity, or something far less reasonable.
She found herself staring.
And then she realized what she was doing. Her face warmed immediately.
Pull yourself together, Amara, she scolded inwardly. He's just a man… with an extremely unfair face.
Her lips twitched upward slightly, a laugh threatening to escape as she thought how ridiculous she must look, gawking like a peasant seeing gold for the first time. The man, however, didn't seem to notice or perhaps he did and didn't care.
Without a word, he turned, his boots brushing softly against the grass as he began to walk away.
"W–wait!" Amara called out, a little louder than intended.
He stopped. Slowly, his head turned, and those unsettling green eyes found her again calm, silent, and unreadable. She froze. Every bit of courage she had gathered melted under that gaze, yet she forced herself to straighten her posture, clearing her throat delicately.
"I… I was simply wondering," she began, trying to sound composed, "are you a student here? Or… perhaps one of the workers?"
The man said nothing. He merely stood there, his expression neither warm nor cold, as if her words drifted past him like leaves in the wind.
Amara's brow furrowed slightly. "Ah, is he…" she whispered under her breath, "is he perhaps deaf?"
She glanced down, feeling oddly embarrassed. Maybe she had just been shouting at a poor man who couldn't hear her. But before she could think of another way to communicate —
A low, calm voice answered.
"No."
Amara nearly jumped. "You can talk!" she exclaimed before realizing how unladylike she sounded. She coughed quickly, trying to hide her surprise. "I mean… I see. Then, if you are not a student… are you perhaps a professor?"
The man's expression didn't shift. His green eyes flickered once, barely visible beneath the sunlight.
"No," he said again that same warm, quiet tone that somehow sent a shiver through her.
This time, Amara couldn't help but let out a tiny, awkward laugh. The entire conversation felt like speaking to a wall that occasionally said no.
"Are you anything at all then?" she murmured to herself, lips curving faintly in amusement.
Silence stretched again. For a brief moment, she thought she saw something flicker behind his eyes sorrow, or perhaps memory but it vanished too quickly to be sure.
"Well, if you refuse to answer that, then at least tell me your name," she said softly, her voice less demanding, almost curious.
But before the man could respond, laughter and chatter echoed from the corridor nearby. A group of art students were heading their way, their cheerful voices breaking the stillness. Amara turned her head instinctively and when she looked back, the man was gone.
Her breath caught.
"What—?" she murmured, scanning the open space beneath the tree. He had vanished as if the earth had swallowed him whole. No sound, no trace not even the faint imprint of footsteps on the grass.
She stood there, blinking at the empty space, and then sighed deeply.
"What in the world…" she whispered, pressing a hand to her forehead. "He is so odd."
For a moment, she thought she saw the yellow flower he had plucked still resting where he stood. It glimmered faintly under the sunlight as though reminding her he had truly been there.
Amara's heart fluttered with a strange mix of awe and unease.
"Severin…" she whispered the name softly, though she wasn't sure how she knew it. It just came to her like a word half-remembered from a dream.
And in that moment, beneath the soft hum of wind and laughter in the distance, she realized something: this was only the beginning.