That night, after the fireworks faded and the warmth of Kai's words still lingered in his chest, Eli drifted into sleep with a small smile on his lips. The glow of their confession replayed over and over in his mind until he surrendered to rest.
But the dream that followed was unlike any other.
He stood in a vast hall that stretched so far it seemed endless. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of smoke and old stone. Beneath his feet was marble so polished it gleamed like black glass, reflecting the wavering firelight from torches mounted high upon towering walls. Each flicker painted the chamber with shadows that danced like restless spirits. Curtains of crimson, heavy and regal, draped from above, swaying as though stirred by a wind Eli could not feel.
And there—at the far end of the hall—stood a man.
His presence was immediate, commanding, as though the entire space belonged to him. He wore a robe of deep gold, its surface embroidered with intricate patterns that seemed to shimmer with their own light. A crown rested faintly on his brow—not gaudy, but quiet, dignified, a symbol of something ancient and unyielding.
Eli froze, his breath catching in his throat. Because the man's face… was Kai's. Not exactly, but close enough to twist something inside him. The resemblance was unmistakable—the same strong lines, the same shape of his eyes. But this man was older, more solemn, his expression carved with a sorrow so heavy it seemed to bend his shoulders beneath its weight.
The figure did not move. He stood tall, yet distant, his gaze lowered as if consumed by thoughts too heavy to voice.
Eli's steps echoed across the marble as he tried to approach, his heart pounding in his chest. "Wait—" he called, his voice breaking in the silence.
The man raised his head slowly. And then their eyes met.
Eli staggered as though struck. They were Kai's eyes—familiar, grounding—but here they were different. They shimmered with a depth of grief Eli had never seen, an ache that seemed to reach across time itself. The weight of that sorrow pressed down on him, chilling his skin, making his chest tighten with an emotion he couldn't name.
"Why…" Eli whispered, his voice trembling as he took another step closer. "…why are you always in my dreams?"
The man's lips parted, but no words came. His gaze remained steady, almost pleading, as if he longed to answer but could not.
And then, without warning, the hall shuddered. The torches sputtered, their flames shrinking to embers. The crimson curtains dissolved into smoke. Darkness poured into the space like a flood, devouring the marble floor, the soaring walls, everything—until only the golden figure remained.
Eli reached out, desperate, panic clawing at him. "Wait! Don't go!" His hand stretched toward the man, but before he could touch him, the figure fractured into shards of light and vanished.
The hall collapsed into emptiness.
Eli jolted awake, gasping, his sheets twisted around him. The faint glow of morning seeped through his curtains, painting his room in soft gray light. His heart raced, his pulse loud in his ears.
He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to steady his breathing. It hadn't felt like a normal dream. The sorrow in that man's eyes clung to him, refusing to fade, like a memory he was supposed to hold onto but couldn't understand.
It wasn't fear that gripped him. It was something stranger—an ache, a longing, and a question that echoed in his mind.
What was that? Was it really just a dream… or something more?