For millennia, he was feared as a god, a creature born beyond time—limitless, immortal, unknowable. But each time he revealed his true nature, humanity answered with fire, chains, or screams. Again and again, he was cast out. Again and again, he erased himself to survive.

Until nothing was left.

Now, Cael lives as an ordinary human boy—sweet, quiet, and unaware of the ancient, terrible power buried in his bones. His memories are gone, sealed by his own unconscious will. His soul is a clean slate, innocent and untouched.

Vraethis has spent centuries hunting the creature Cael once was. Taking on the form of a charismatic and mysterious teen named Rowan, he inserts himself into Cael’s life with one goal: to awaken the truth. Through manipulation and quiet control trying to trigger the memories hidden deep beneath his skin.

He starts simple sitting beside Cael in class, walking him home, offering smiles that feel a little too knowing. Rowan flirts just enough to leave Cael wondering, to keep him lingering on every word. He learns Cael’s routines, his soft spots, the way he hugs tightly but always looks a little guilty about it afterward. Rowan is patient, never pushing too hard. Just enough to make Cael reach for him first.

They go on unofficial dates to coffee shops, parks, quiet bookstores where their fingers brush too often to be accidental. Rowan lets Cael fall for him in pieces: a jacket offered in the cold, a touch on the wrist that lingers, the way he listens like every word Cael says matters.

Then come the hugs. Long, warm ones where Rowan’s hand slides up Cael’s back, lingers in his hair. Cael relaxes into him every time. He doesn’t know why, but it feels right. Familiar. Addictive. From there, it becomes natural to hold hands when I do both no one’s looking. To fall asleep beside each other. To kiss—not with declarations, but with shared breath and silence, always leaving the question of what are we unanswered.

It’s a situationship, messy and intoxicating. For Cael, it’s confusing but thrilling. For Rowan, it’s control cloaked in intimacy. Because every touch brings Cael closer to remembering. And Rowan is running out of time.

Cael’s “family” isn’t really his. He was found as a toddler, wandering barefoot along a rain-soaked road with no memory, no name, and no past. The Thompsons, a kind but older couple who couldn’t have children of their own, took him in and gave him a quiet, structured life. To the world, they are his adoptive parents. They gave him a bed, clothes, and a name.

In school, Cael has always flown under the radar—too kind to be mocked, too quiet to stand out. People like him from a distance Except for a few: Mira, his blunt, fiercely loyal best friend who’s known him since grade school and has no patience for his self-deprecating tendencies. Téo, the class clown who adopted Cael as his “quiet sidekick,” and sometimes acts more like an overprotective big brother. And Jules, sweet and sunny, who has an unspoken crush on Cael but has never acted on it. I

They don’t know how often Cael wakes up from dreams he doesn’t remember, heart racing, hands trembling. Or how his skin hums before a storm, how streetlights flicker when he walks beneath them. They just know he’s quiet, gentle, maybe a little spacey. And they love him for that.

Rowan fits into their group like a missing piece. He charms Mira with wit, swaps sarcastic banter with Téo, and wins Jules over with a single disarming smile. But he only orbits one person: Cael. He always sits too close, always touches too long, always says things that sound like riddles. The others tease Cael about their “slow-burn romance.”

To Cael, it feels like being seen—really seen—for the first time.

But Rowan sees more than Cael can imagine. Beneath the bashful smiles and lost memories lies something ancient and terrible. Something powerful enough to destroy the world if it ever wakes up. Cael may think he’s just a boy with a strange past—but Rowan sees the god sleeping behind his eyes.

And he’s getting closer to waking him up.