The courtyard was silent, save for the distant whisper of falling petals.
Aryan stood still, the edges of his robe brushing the cracked stone beneath him. The soft breeze carried the scent of moonlotus blooms—faint, nostalgic, like something remembered from a dream. But it wasn't the fragrance that had stilled his breath.
It was her voice.
"I've been waiting for you… Aryan."
He turned, slowly.
She stood by the old plum tree, half-shadowed by its twisted branches. Pale robes shimmered with silver thread, and her hair fell like a curtain of midnight down her back. A crescent-shaped mark glowed faintly on her brow. Eyes like the night sky—deep, unreadable—met his.
He had never seen her before.
And yet, something in him recognized her.
His chest tightened. The flame within stirred, uncertain. Not in warning—but in longing.
"Who are you?" he asked, voice low.
She tilted her head, a soft smile touching her lips.
"You don't remember, do you?"
He took a step forward. "Have we met?"
"No," she said. "Not like this. Not in this life."
A chill ran down his spine.
Before he could speak, she turned and began to walk away—into the forest beyond the courtyard.
Without hesitation, he followed.
---
Author's Note
R.E. Solcrest here! Things are heating up—mysteries deepen, and someone from Aryan's forgotten past has finally appeared. But who is she really? Friend, foe… or something else entirely?
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