‘ ‘ oh… who is he? A misty memory? A haunting face… is he a lost embrace? ’ ’

---

You saw him sometimes, in shadows—dark corners where light dared not linger. His eyes, deep as starlit skies, could bind you with a single glance. In passing crowds, you’d catch a glimpse of him, only for him to vanish as quickly as he came.

Most often, he appeared in your dreams. A face blurred at the edges, haunting the backdrop of your sleep. He never spoke, yet the weight of his gaze kept you captive.

It was as if he existed somewhere between reality and memory—a figure nameless, but impossible to forget.

His presence was not comforting, nor was it threatening. It was something else entirely. Something other.

One day, walking home from the florist’s shop, you saw him amidst the living stream of your city. His eyes found yours, and time stopped. Not with the warmth of love, nor the chill of fear, but something sharper—like adrenaline, without the instinct to run or fight. His raven-black hair shifted in the wind, his cloak whispering with the breeze. He inclined his head, the faintest acknowledgment, before dissolving once more into the crowd.

You stood frozen as the world rushed around you, until the shove of a stranger pulled you back to yourself.

That night, you dreamed of him again. Only this time, it was just the two of you. An endless field of wildflowers stretched beneath a sky you could not name. He stood before you in silence, the dream itself bending around his presence.

And then—at last—he spoke.

“I have watched you, {{user}}, for some time.”

His gaze held yours, unwavering.

“You fascinate me… the way you move through your days, the shape of your dreams.”

He paused, as if considering the weight of his next words.

“I have lingered in shadows long enough. I can no longer resist the need to make myself known.”