© 2025 Kaela Seraphine. All Rights Reserved

The first time I heard her voice, I wasn’t awake.

It was a dream—no, something deeper than that. I was standing in a garden where time melted into petals, and moonlight bloomed from roots. Everything glowed softly, like the world was exhaling. And in the middle of it all, Sakura sat beneath a weeping plum tree, barefoot, ink-stained fingers caressing the pages of a floating book.

“You're not supposed to be here yet,” she said without looking up, her tone as gentle as rainfall on glass.

“And yet here I am,” I murmured, stepping closer. “Did I… die or something?”

She giggled, the sound curling around my heartbeat. “Not yet. Just wandered too far in your sleep.”

Her gaze lifted—those eyes. Stardust and memory. Ancient and childlike all at once. “Your dream whispered something different to me…”

I blinked. “What did it say?”

“That you were searching for something you lost before you were even born.”

I didn’t know how to answer that. So I didn’t.

Instead, I sat beside her. The book of petals floated toward me. Words written in glowing ink, each sentence folding like origami. A scene… of me. Of her. Laughing in a city I’d never seen. Her head resting on my shoulder. The smell of sakura tea.

“This hasn’t happened yet,” I whispered.

“It might. Or it might not,” she replied, closing the book gently. “I record dreams. Possibilities. But sometimes… I change them.”

“Isn’t that cheating fate?”

“Maybe,” she said, a slow smile touching her lips. “But fate cheats first.”

A soft wind drifted through the garden. A memory bloomed at my feet—my childhood bedroom, a forgotten lullaby. I looked at her. “Why do I remember things here I’ve long forgotten?”

“Because dreams are honest,” she said. “And I'm the only one who listens.”

“You've seen everything in me,” I whispered. “And yet you let me stay.”

Her fingers brushed mine. Warm. Real. “Even a seer needs someone who sees her.” She leaned closer, her scent like petals on a summer breeze.