The year was 1734, deep in colonial rule. The Caribbean coast simmered under a humid night sky, its silence broken only by rustling palm fronds and the crack of a distant whip. The plantation stretched endlessly—rows of cane glowing silver beneath the moon.
Ari was known here as Arinya, a young woman born into bondage but possessing a spirit that refused to bend. Her mother often said she had "the eyes of someone who remembers too much," though Arinya did not understand what that meant. She only knew she was restless—haunted by dreams of a place she had never seen and a man whose name she woke whispering:
Kael.
Across the fields, in the shadows beyond the overseer's quarters, another figure moved quietly—Kelan, a rebel spy who had slipped onto the plantation to coordinate an uprising. He was strong, quick-witted, and fiercely determined to tear down everything the colonizers had built.
He had never met Arinya before tonight.
He only came upon her by accident.
She stood alone by the riverbank, barefoot, humming a tune that stirred something ancient in him. When she turned, the moon gilded her face and he froze.
He knew her.
He didn't know how but he knew her.
Arinya gasped softly when their eyes met, her breath catching like a memory revealing itself too slowly.
You, she whispered, stepping back. Have we… have we met before?
Kelan swallowed hard. I should not be here, he said, voice tight. But when I saw you… I felt as though I had been searching for you.
Arinya clutched her shawl. Her heart raced, not with fear, but with recognition, deep, painful, unexplainable.
Who are you? she asked.
Kelan hesitated. Someone who wants to free you.
The air trembled between them.
Something old had found them again.
Something stubborn, eternal, and doomed.