Aria lay awake longer than usual that night.
Her textbooks were still spread across her desk, the half-finished essay forgotten. All she could think about was Kael — the way he had appeared so suddenly, as if stepping out of the edges of her life without warning.
He had smiled like someone who belonged. He had spoken like he already knew her, slipping in fragments of memory she couldn't place. The unease clung to her, refusing to loosen even as the street outside grew quiet.
With a sigh, she shut her lamp and slid under the covers. The faint hum of the city in the distance was comforting, familiar. She told herself she just needed sleep. Tomorrow it would all feel normal again.
But sometime past midnight, she woke.
At first, she thought it was the wind brushing against her window — the faintest scrape, like a branch dragging along glass. She pushed herself up, heart thudding, and listened.
Silence.
She was about to settle back down when it came again, softer, deliberate.
Then a voice. Low. Close.
"You'll understand soon."
Her breath caught.
The words weren't imagined. They seeped through the windowpane, clear as if whispered into her ear.
"I'm only here to get you back."
Aria's pulse pounded in her throat. She scrambled to the window, hands shaking as she pulled the curtains aside.
Nothing.
The empty street stretched below, still and washed pale by the moon. The trees were unmoving. The air, heavy and still.
And yet, she knew — she knew — someone had been there. Watching. Waiting.
She pressed her back against the wall, hugging her knees to her chest. A strange thought pricked her mind, unwelcome yet undeniable.
Kael.
The way he looked at her today. The way he knew her.
It was impossible. But so was the voice.
Aria stayed awake until dawn, eyes fixed on the window, as if it might open itself and let the dark spill in.