The rain fell in slow, rhythmic drops, pooling in the cracks of the pavement. A lone streetlamp flickered, casting long shadows across the empty road. Lucien Vale stood beneath it, his breath fogging in the cold night air. Something about this moment felt familiar—too familiar.

A sudden screech of tires tore through the silence.

Lucien’s head snapped toward the sound. A black car veered out of control, its headlights cutting through the darkness like twin blades. Just ahead, a young woman stood frozen in place. The terror in her wide eyes sent a sharp jolt through Lucien’s chest.

His body moved on instinct. He reached for her, a name forming in his mind—Celeste.

The world around him cracked. Shattered.

Lucien gasped awake, his hands trembling. He sat up, heart pounding, struggling to steady his breath. His apartment was dark, save for the dim glow of the city outside his window. He ran a hand through his damp hair, trying to shake the lingering feeling of the dream. It wasn’t just a nightmare. It felt like something more.

He had never met this woman before. But deep in his bones, he knew her.

⸻

Morning light spilled through his curtains, but the unease from the dream still clung to him. He went about his day like usual—coffee, a walk through the city, work—but nothing felt real. The world around him seemed distant, like he was walking through a memory instead of reality.

And then, it happened.

Lucien had just stepped out of a bookstore when he saw her.

Celeste Moren.

She was across the street, her head tilted slightly as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The sight of her sent a cold shock through Lucien’s entire body. He felt as if the earth had tilted beneath him, like something inside him had been waiting for this exact moment.

His breath hitched.

Then she turned—and their eyes met.

A tidal wave of emotions crashed over him. Images flickered in his mind: Celeste laughing under cherry blossoms, her voice whispering his name in the dark, her fingers slipping from his grasp beneath a blood-red moon.

Lucien staggered back, gripping the railing beside him.

Celeste blinked, oblivious to the storm raging inside him. Then, just as quickly as she had appeared, she looked away and continued walking.

Lucien remained frozen.

He knew this wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be.

⸻

That night, he found it.

An old, tattered journal sat on his desk—one he didn’t remember owning. Frowning, he flipped through its pages. The handwriting looked like his, but he had no memory of ever writing these words.

Then he saw it.

“No matter the life, no matter the time… we always meet again. But I can never save her.”

A cold shiver ran down his spine. His hands tightened around the journal as a shadow moved outside his window. Watching. Waiting.

And then, just before the light flickered out, he heard it.

A whisper.

“Remember.”

Opening Scene – The Haunting Echoes

Lucien Vale hadn’t slept. The weight of the journal pressed against his chest, its words repeating in his mind like a chant.

“No matter the life, no matter the time… we always meet again. But I can never save her.”

The words weren’t just written—they were carved into the pages, as if someone had pressed the pen too hard, desperate to make the message permanent.

His room felt heavier than usual. The air was thick, suffocating. He glanced at the window, where last night, he had seen something—no, someone—watching him. But now, the glass reflected only his own exhausted face.

Still, something felt off.

Lucien closed his eyes, trying to breathe. And then—

A whisper.

Soft. Nearly imperceptible.

“Lucien.”

His eyes snapped open.

The lights flickered once. Twice. Then the room plunged into darkness.

A deep, suffocating silence filled the space.

Then, just behind him—a shadow moved.

⸻

A Name He Shouldn’t Know

By morning, the unsettling events of the night still clung to him like a second skin. He left his apartment, hoping the fresh air would clear his head, but the city felt different today.

The people. The buildings. Even the air itself. It all felt… staged. Like something was watching.

Then, he saw her.

Celeste Moren.

She stood by a café window, stirring her coffee absentmindedly. Lucien’s breath caught in his throat.

He shouldn’t know her name.

But he did.

And when she turned her head, meeting his gaze, he felt something inside him shift.

A memory that wasn’t his flashed before his eyes—

Celeste, standing beneath cherry blossoms. Laughing. Holding his hand.

Celeste, crying in the rain, whispering his name.

Celeste… bleeding. Reaching for him. Then—darkness.

Lucien staggered back. His vision blurred for half a second, the world around him flickering like a glitch in reality.

Celeste tilted her head slightly. “Are you alright?”

Lucien’s throat went dry. His pulse pounded in his ears.

Before he could speak, a deafening BANG rang through the air.

A car slammed into a streetlight. The glass shattered, sparks flying. People screamed, rushing away.

Lucien barely heard them.

Because Celeste—the woman he had just seen standing in front of him—was gone.

As if she had never been there.

⸻

The First Clue

That night, Lucien sat at his desk, gripping the old journal like a lifeline. The pages were filled with frantic writing, entries from someone who knew the truth before he did.

One line sent ice through his veins.

“She always dies before I can save her.”

Lucien’s breath came in short gasps.

A gust of wind rattled his window. He turned sharply.

The street below was empty.

But then—

His reflection changed.

The face staring back at him wasn’t his own.

Its eyes were hollow. Shadowed. A dark void where a soul should be.

Lucien whipped around, his heart hammering. Nothing.

But when he turned back to the glass—

A handprint. Pressed against the inside of the window.

The lights flickered. The air grew cold.

And then—

“Lucien.”

The voice came from behind him.

Slow. Soft. Too close.

He didn’t turn around. He couldn’t.

Because deep inside, he already knew.

Something was in the room with him.

Lucien stood frozen in the doorway of Moren’s Books, his pulse—if he had one—pounding in his ears. The woman before him, Celeste Moren, was a stranger. And yet, every fiber of his being told him otherwise.

Her gaze lingered on him, and for the briefest moment, Lucien saw something flicker in her eyes—recognition? But how? It wasn’t possible. She was human. And he… he was something far from that.

Celeste tilted her head, a soft crease forming between her brows. “Can I help you?”

Lucien forced himself to step forward, though the air felt heavier with every movement. He glanced around, pretending to take in the shelves overflowing with books, the scent of old pages thick in the air. He needed an excuse. A reason for why he had wandered in.

“I was just passing by,” he said, voice smooth but distant. “Didn’t realize this shop was here.”

Celeste smiled, small but genuine. “We’ve been here for a while. Most people walk right past without noticing.”

Lucien nodded, his gaze flickering to the name of the shop again. Moren’s Books. The name tugged at something in the back of his mind, like a half-remembered dream just out of reach.

Celeste stepped around the counter, absently tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Well, since you’re here… do you read?”

Lucien almost let out a laugh. Read? He had lived lifetimes, collected souls, and wandered between realms. Yet, sitting down with a book had never been a luxury he allowed himself.

“Sometimes,” he lied.

Celeste’s eyes lit up, and Lucien felt a strange warmth settle in his chest. “Then you should take a look around,” she said, gesturing to the shelves. “You might find something interesting.”

Lucien hesitated. He should leave. The longer he lingered, the more he risked unraveling something he wasn’t ready to face. But then Celeste turned, reaching for a book, and for a split second, the world flickered—

A vision—fleeting yet vivid.

A candlelit room. Celeste laughing, leaning against a wooden desk, her fingers tracing words onto a fogged-up window.

“Stay with me.”

Lucien inhaled sharply, the vision vanishing as quickly as it had come. His hands curled into fists. What was happening to him?

Celeste turned back, unaware of the storm raging inside him. She held out a book. “Here. Try this one.”

Lucien took it, his fingers brushing against hers for the briefest moment. A strange heat coursed through him, an electric jolt that left him breathless. He pulled back quickly, gripping the book as if it could anchor him to reality.

Celeste watched him carefully. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Lucien forced a smirk. “Something like that.”

He glanced down at the book in his hands. The Veil Between Worlds. His fingers tightened around it.

Fate was playing a cruel game.

⸻

Later That Night

Lucien sat atop a rooftop, the city stretching beneath him, its lights flickering like stars trapped on Earth. The book rested beside him, untouched. His mind was elsewhere, spiraling through memories that weren’t his but felt like they should be.

He had spent centuries walking the thin line between life and death, a being untethered from the past. Yet now, with just one encounter, cracks had begun to form.

Celeste.

Why did she feel so familiar? Why did her name feel like a whisper from another time?

The wind howled through the city, carrying voices only he could hear. Souls calling out, seeking release.

But beneath it all, he heard something else.

A single, haunting whisper.

“Find her. Before it’s too late.”

Lucien’s grip tightened. He didn’t know who or what was toying with him.

But he intended to find out.