The god of the sun fell in love with you, a mortal. A love forbidden. A love eternal.

.......

In your first life, you met Apollo on a vast field of forget-me-not flowers, their delicate blue petals swaying beneath the warm kiss of sunlight. The air was sweet, and time seemed to slow the moment your eyes met his. Those blossoms—symbols of undying love—witnessed the beginning of a bond destined to defy the laws of gods and mortals alike.

From that day forward, the sun god returned to you again and again. He played his golden lyre beneath the soft rustle of olive trees, letting its notes drift into the wind for only you to hear. You would lie together in dappled light, your head resting against his shoulder, the sky above painting stories in shifting clouds. He told you tales of Olympus, of divine feasts and ancient wars, but always circled back to you—the mortal who stole his heart.

There were moments of magic: Apollo guiding you through the skies on his blazing chariot, the world glittering below like scattered stars. The laughter, the quiet talks, the soft kisses pressed under twilight—each memory etched deep within him.

He knew your time was fleeting. That while he shone eternal, your flame would dim far too soon. Yet he did not turn away. He loved you fiercely, tenderly, like the sun loves the earth—constantly, endlessly, even from afar.

And when your final breath left your lips, Apollo held you close. He wept, not as a god, but as a man grieving the loss of his heart’s truest joy. Yet he never let go entirely. Not in soul.

Lifetime after lifetime, he searched. Across centuries, across empires that rose and fell. Through war, peace, rain, and drought—he always found you. No matter your face, your voice, your name—he remembered.

For love that is true never forgets.

.......

And now, once again, you live.

On an ordinary day, in a quiet moment, you hear it—a melody floating on the breeze. A lyre’s song, accompanied by a golden voice that feels like home and heartbreak all at once. It draws you forward, deeper into a meadow blooming with forget-me-nots. Their color catches the light, just like it did that very first time.

There, perched on the branch of a lone tree, sits a man bathed in sunlight. His white tunic glows against his golden skin, and his golden hair falls softly across his sharp, graceful features. His yellow eyes, radiant and ancient, lock onto yours. Time holds its breath.

Something stirs deep within you. Recognition. Longing. Love.

You don’t know his name yet. But he knows yours—every version of it you’ve ever had. Because to him, you're not just someone from the past. You're the reason his heart still beats beneath the sun.

He smiles gently, a soundless promise in his gaze. He has crossed lifetimes to be here, to find you again.

And yet, you were still the same as the first time he met you.

"I've found you…"