The night was gentle — too gentle for a world that had once burned.
Silver mist curled over the cobblestone streets as Lina walked home, her sketchbook pressed against her chest. The drawing inside — that man with the silver hair and golden eyes — haunted her. His image felt alive, as if he might step out from the page any second.
She didn't know his name. She didn't know why her hand trembled whenever she looked at that sketch. But every line, every shade, felt like déjà vu.
The clock tower chimed eleven. Somewhere, the sound of water dripping echoed through the alleyways. She tightened her scarf and walked faster, heart fluttering in her throat.
Then she heard it — a whisper. Soft, calling her name.
> "Lina…"
She froze. The voice came from behind, faint but unmistakable.
Turning slowly, she saw no one. The mist thickened, and the world seemed to hold its breath.
A flicker of movement — a shadow in the fog.
Her pulse quickened. "Hello? Who's there?"
No answer. Only the whisper again, closer now.
> "You shouldn't walk alone."
A shiver ran through her spine. Then, out of the haze, a man stepped forward.
Silver hair. Golden eyes. The same eyes from her sketch.
Lina's breath caught in her throat.
It was him.
The same face she'd drawn over and over, as if her heart had been remembering him for her.
"I—" She took a step back. "Do I know you?"
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze soft, almost pained. "Maybe you did… once."
The way he said it, the faint sadness in his voice — it pulled at something deep inside her. Something she couldn't name.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, shaking her head. "I don't remember."
He smiled faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You will."
The streetlight flickered. The air between them grew heavier, charged with a strange warmth. It wasn't fear — it was recognition, like meeting someone your soul knew even if your mind didn't.
He stepped closer. "You still draw the moon when you can't sleep."
Her eyes widened. "How do you know that?"
His gaze flickered — sorrow, tenderness, longing — all tangled together. "Because you've done it in every life I've met you."
Lina blinked, her breath trembling. "Every… life?"
The man looked up at the moon. "You don't have to believe me. Just… promise me one thing."
She swallowed hard. "What?"
"If your heart ever aches for no reason — if you ever feel like you're missing something you can't name — follow it. It'll lead you back to me."
Her chest tightened painfully. "Who are you?"
He smiled again, faint and broken. "Someone who's been trying to find you for far too long."
The air shimmered faintly, like heatwaves rippling through fog. Then she blinked — and he was gone.
The street was empty again.
Lina stood there, frozen, her heart racing as if she'd just woken from a dream she didn't want to end.
She opened her sketchbook — the man's face on the page seemed clearer than before, almost glowing under the moonlight.
Below the drawing, new words had appeared — not in her handwriting:
> "When you dream of fire and rain, remember my name."
She traced the words with her fingertips, her hands trembling.
The world around her was silent, yet she could feel something — a heartbeat, faint but alive, somewhere deep inside her soul.
And far away, across realms unseen, the Mirror pulsed once more — as if the universe itself refused to let them forget.
---
The wind that followed her home carried whispers she couldn't understand. They weren't loud or clear, yet something in them called to the deepest part of her—where logic faded and memory began to ache.
Lina shut her door behind her, locking it twice before she leaned back against it, pressing a hand over her racing heart.
"Calm down," she whispered to herself. "It was just a dream… or I'm losing my mind."
But the sketchbook in her trembling hands betrayed her denial. The words glowed faintly—
"When you dream of fire and rain, remember my name."
They pulsed once before fading into the page as if they had never existed.
She dropped the book on her desk and stumbled toward the window. Outside, the moon looked impossibly large, low, and silver like molten glass. She could see her reflection faintly in the glass, her wide eyes and pale face framed by dark hair—yet behind her reflection, for a second, she swore she saw him again.
The man with golden eyes.
She spun around.
Nothing.
Just her tiny apartment and the hum of the old heater.
"Get it together, Lina," she muttered, dragging a hand through her hair. "You're an artist, not a lunatic."
But the unease didn't fade. That man had looked at her like he knew her—like he'd been waiting lifetimes just to say those words.
And that voice…
She could still hear it.
> "Follow it. It'll lead you back to me."
That night, Lina couldn't sleep.
When she finally closed her eyes, the darkness came alive. She was standing in an unfamiliar garden, flowers blooming beneath a sky streaked with two moons. A marble fountain trickled in the distance. And there, by the fountain, was him.
He wasn't in modern clothes this time. His coat was long and dark, lined with silver threads that shimmered like starlight. His hand rested on the hilt of a sword.
When he turned to her, his expression softened. "You came."
Lina tried to speak, but no sound came out. Her heart screamed in recognition, yet her mind was blank.
He walked to her slowly, his presence both comforting and terrifying in its familiarity. "You don't remember yet. But you will."
"Who are you?" she finally managed.
"Kael."
The name sparked something deep inside her. Pain. Heat. Fire.
She saw flashes—blood on marble floors, the reflection of a burning city, a silver crown lying broken beside a lifeless hand. And then—her own voice whispering his name in the chaos.
Her knees buckled. Kael caught her before she fell, his hands warm despite the cold air.
"It's all right," he murmured. "You're waking up too quickly."
"What's happening to me?"
"You were never supposed to forget," he said quietly, eyes glinting gold under the twin moons. "But every time the cycle resets, you do. Every time I find you, you look at me like a stranger."
The dream trembled, as if reality couldn't bear the weight of his truth.
Lina's fingers curled around his sleeve. "Then why keep finding me?"
He smiled faintly. "Because I promised I would, no matter how many lives it takes."
She wanted to say something more, to ask who she had been, what they'd lost—but before she could, the world cracked like glass.
She woke up gasping, drenched in sweat. Morning sunlight filtered through the blinds.
Her phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number:
> Did you remember the garden?
Lina froze. Her heart pounded as she typed back, Who is this?
No reply. Just those same words appearing again a moment later—this time scrawled across her window glass from the inside, as if drawn by invisible hands:
> Kael.
She staggered back. "This isn't real—"
The glass cracked in a perfect crescent shape. For a heartbeat, the crack shimmered, revealing something behind it—another world. Silver light. A hand reaching out.
Her own reflection smiled at her—only it wasn't her.
It was Amara.
---
❓️❓️❓️❓️
If the man in the mist was truly Kael…
then what part of Lina's soul answered when he called her Amara—
the girl she once was, or the woman fate has turned her into?