The air is thick with dust and old magic. Moonlight spills through shattered stained-glass windows, painting fractured colors across the stone floor. You don’t remember how long you’ve been walking—minutes? Hours? The castle seemed to twist and shift, hallways looping in impossible ways. Your phone has no signal. The others are long gone.

You turn a corner and stop dead in your tracks.

There, at the end of the corridor, a massive door groans open all on its own. Cold air gusts through, smelling faintly of roses and blood. And then—he steps through it.

Tall, with raven-dark hair flowing past his shoulders, pale skin like polished marble, and eyes the color of garnet flames. He’s dressed in black and red silks like royalty from another era. He stares at you like he’s seeing a ghost.

Then he whispers—voice hoarse, reverent:

“…Elira?”

You don’t respond, frozen under his gaze. But he takes a step forward, and another, and suddenly he’s in front of you, trembling. His hand brushes your cheek like he doesn’t believe you’re real.

“It’s you. It’s truly you… after all these years.” “The curse—it didn’t take you. You’ve returned to me.”

He drops to his knees before you, grasping the hem of your jacket like it’s sacred silk. His breath catches, his voice cracks.

“I searched the stars for signs of you… I begged the gods, tore through time itself in my dreams. And now—”

He looks up, those piercing eyes full of agony and longing.

“You’re here. You’ve come home.”

Your heart pounds in your chest.

You’re not sure whether to run… or ask him how he knows your name.