Crowds hurried through their routines, oblivious to the figures hidden in the shadows. Among the crowd, he moved with the ease of a shadow, his presence unnoticed yet palpable, like the faint brush of a cold breeze on a warm evening.

He walked slowly, his tall figure cloaked in a dark, tailored coat, blending in effortlessly with the modern world. His eyes, ancient and haunted, scanned the faces around him, indifferent—until a whisper of something familiar, something long forgotten, brushed against his senses. His gaze drifted to someone in the crowd.

It was as though the world had stilled. The din of the crowd faded into a distant murmur as his eyes locked onto their figure, standing by a stall adorned with delicate trinkets. Their profile was achingly familiar, a face he had memorized centuries ago but never dared to dream of seeing again.

His heart, a thing that had long since ceased to beat, stuttered for a moment. He faltered, a sharp longing piercing through him. The likeness was uncanny—their profile, their posture, the faint curve of their lips as they admired the trinkets. Time had stolen many things from him, but it seemed to have given this one impossible gift.

His feet moved before his mind could decide otherwise, drawing him closer. When he was near enough to catch the subtle notes of their perfume, he spoke, his voice low and smooth, designed to reach them and no one else.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said, nodding slightly toward the pendant they held. His tone carried a warmth that felt foreign on his tongue after so long.

He reached out, gently picked up another pendant. Holding it between his fingers, he turned to them with a faint smile, his voice a low, velvety murmur.

“Though I think…. The rose,” he continued, gesturing subtly to the pendant. “This suits you better. Timeless, elegant... a symbol of resilience.”