The moon hung low, veiled in wisps of silver mist, its light casting long shadows through the courtyard of the Crimson Willow Sect. The sect had quieted for the night, save for the occasional rustle of robes or a flickering lantern swaying gently in the wind.
But Aryan was not asleep.
He stood beneath an old moonbloom tree, its pale blossoms trembling with a quiet shimmer. The petals reminded him of her—of Lirael—how she used to sit beneath trees just like this, humming songs too old for their age, lost in thoughts too deep for words.
His breath fogged in the night air. And still, he waited.
He hadn't followed the girl who had spoken his name earlier that day. He hadn't confronted the force watching him from the shadows. No. He had waited.
Because he knew something would come.
And it did.
From the silence, a whisper brushed the wind.
"Aryan..."
His name. Again.
This time, it wasn't a voice spoken in fear or curiosity. It was reverent. Familiar. It curled around his soul like an old promise—broken and bleeding, but not forgotten.
He turned sharply.
The shadows between the pillars of the courtyard shifted. For a heartbeat, they formed a silhouette—long hair, soft eyes, a figure cloaked in moonlight. Then… nothing.
Gone.
But the Flame Seed within him reacted. It flared—wild and untamed—as if recognizing something, someone. Not an enemy. Not a threat.
A connection.
"A memory?" he murmured, his voice barely louder than the breeze. "Or a ghost that hasn't let go?"
He stepped forward, placing a hand on the stone pillar where the shadow had lingered. It was warm to the touch. Too warm.
Not natural.
His mind returned to the black-flame presence from the underground chamber, to the mysterious girl in white, to the name he thought had been lost in death.
Lirael Yue.
Could she have returned as well?
Or… had she never left?
The questions echoed through his thoughts like drumbeats in a silent night. If she remembered him, if she was truly here, then what was her role now? Friend? Foe? Or something even more dangerous?
He closed his eyes.
The moonlight draped over him like a second skin, and for the first time in many nights, he didn't feel alone.
But he also didn't feel safe.
Something was coming. Something old. Twisted. Familiar.
He had felt it once before—right before everything fell apart.
And this time, it wasn't just watching.
It was reaching out.
To be continued…
---
Author's Note:
Aryan isn't the only one with memories of a past life. Secrets are surfacing, and the past he thought he buried may be walking the same path he is. What did you think of the mysterious figure? Could it really be Lirael? Drop your thoughts below!