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Chapter One: The Pull of Forgotten Stars
The dream always began the same way.
A field of silver grass, lit by a moon that didn't belong to this world. Stars shimmered like tears in the sky, whispering things she could never remember upon waking. A boy stood in the center of it all, his back to her, the wind tousling his dark hair. His voice, when it came, was always the same—soft, broken, familiar.
"Find me again… even if you forget."
And then, always, fire. Screaming. Her heart splitting open with a grief too ancient for her seventeen years. She would reach for him, always too late, and wake up gasping.
Lyra sat bolt upright in bed, the echoes of the dream still clawing at her chest. The same dream, again. The same boy. The same burning sorrow. Her hands trembled in her lap, and she could still feel the phantom warmth of his fingers slipping from hers.
"Every damn night," she whispered, pressing her palm to her heart. "Who are you?"
Her room was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that didn't just exist—it watched. Her clock blinked 3:03 AM in red. Outside, the wind howled like it remembered something she didn't.
Lyra hated it. The way everything felt too still, like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. The kind of stillness that felt like a threat.
On her nightstand lay a half-finished sketch—a boy's eyes, drawn over and over again, trying to catch their haunted look. She hadn't even realized she'd been drawing them until she found her notebook filled with them. Always those same eyes. Always looking back at her with the kind of sorrow that didn't belong to strangers.
She couldn't remember his name. But she knew him. He was in every dream, every vision, every moment of darkness. His eyes stared into hers like they had known her forever, and yet, she knew nothing about him.
She had to stop this. She couldn't keep living like this, drowning in dreams of someone she would never meet, someone she couldn't even remember.
She glanced at the clock again. It was 3:04. A moment passed before she heard the soft creak of the old house settling around her, a sound so familiar that it almost comforted her. Almost.
But that night, the dream felt different. For the first time, she wasn't alone. Someone was watching her—there, just outside her vision. She could feel their presence, a weight in the air that made her skin crawl.
A faint whisper tugged at her consciousness, but she couldn't make it out. The words were muffled, indistinct, like they were coming from the farthest edge of the world. Then, she saw him again—the boy. He stood in the center of the field, his back to her. But this time, the air around him shimmered, like a heatwave distorting the space between them.
His voice reached her, clearer than before. "Find me again… even if you forget."
And then, there was fire. Flames bursting from the ground, licking at the sky. She tried to run to him, but the flames blocked her path. She screamed, her heart pounding in her chest, her throat burning as if the fire was inside her, consuming her from the inside out.
"Kael!" she screamed, her voice a raw rasp.
But his name was a distant echo, swallowed by the flames.
Her eyes shot open in a panic. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and her body was drenched in sweat. For a moment, she lay there, unmoving, the memory of the dream pressing against her like a physical weight. She reached for the edge of her blanket, her fingers trembling.
Her room was silent again, too silent. But it wasn't the same silence as before. This time, it felt different—heavier, charged with something she couldn't understand.
She pushed herself up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She stood, walking toward the window. She needed air. She needed to clear her mind, even though she knew it wouldn't help.
Outside, the wind howled like it remembered something she didn't.
It was 6:30 AM now. The soft glow of early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows on the floor. The sound of traffic in the distance reminded her that the world was still turning, still going on.
But she couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed. Something was waking up.
She dressed quickly and made her way to the small café where she worked after school—The Hollow Bean, tucked between a vintage bookstore and an abandoned flower shop no one remembered ever opening. The café was small, cozy, with its stained-glass windows and flickering fairy lights, and the smell of roasted coffee beans always made her feel grounded, like everything was just as it should be.
She loved the café. It was her escape from the chaos that lived inside her. It was real, full of small chatter, cinnamon, and songs about things that didn't matter. It was the one place where nothing mystical or terrifying ever happened.
At least, that's what she told herself.
Lyra entered through the back door, nodding to her coworker, Mari, who was already busy prepping for the morning rush.
"Hey, starlight, you look like you haven't slept in a week," Mari said, her voice light but concerned.
Lyra smiled weakly. "Just the usual," she said, tying her apron around her waist. "Bad dreams."
"Again?" Mari asked, arching an eyebrow. "You know, I think you're starting to get addicted to them. You might want to cut back."
Lyra chuckled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "If only it were that easy."
The bell above the door jingled as someone entered. Lyra barely noticed at first, absorbed in arranging the cups. But then, the air around her seemed to change. It was subtle at first, just a shift in the atmosphere, like the room had shifted and expanded. She glanced up, and her heart stopped.
A boy stood in the doorway.
Not just any boy. Him. The stranger from her dreams.
Same black hair, same sad eyes like dusk before a storm. Taller now, older, wearing a black coat that dusted his knees, his boots muddy from the rain.
He froze when he saw her.
And Lyra—Lyra forgot how to breathe.
Time paused. Jazz faded into nothing. Coffee hissed in the background, but it felt miles away.
"Lyra?" he said, his voice a whisper of recognition.
She blinked, trying to catch her breath. "How… how do you know my name?"
His eyes softened. Pain. Hope. Recognition. All at once. "Because I've said it a thousand times. You just never remember me."
Lyra stared at him, her mouth parting as if she were about to say something. Anything. But nothing came out. She shook her head. "This… isn't funny."
"I'm not trying to be funny."
His name was Kael. Just Kael.
He didn't say much more. Only that he had just moved into town. That he was starting school next week. That he wasn't staying long.
But every time he looked at her, it felt like he was fighting not to fall apart.
When he left the café, Lyra stood frozen in place for almost ten minutes. Even her coworker Mari had to nudge her.
"You okay, starlight? You look like you saw a ghost."
Lyra didn't know how to answer. Because it was worse than a ghost. Ghosts were strangers.
Kael felt like a home she'd forgotten how to return to.
That night, Lyra dreamt again.
But this time, it changed.
She was no longer a girl in a field. She was a woman, older, dressed in robes that shimmered like stars. Her hands were bloodied. Her face tear-streaked. Kael knelt before her, a sword through his side. She screamed something—but the words were muffled.
"I will find you," he said through blood and breath, "Even if it takes a thousand lives."
Then, darkness.
Lyra woke up sobbing, her throat raw with grief.
The next day, she found Kael waiting for her outside the café.
"You remember something," he said quietly, his voice almost too gentle.
Lyra hesitated. "Not really. Just… flashes."
He looked relieved. "It's starting. Good."
"Starting?"
Kael's eyes darkened, and for a moment, his gaze seemed distant, searching. He looked up at the clouds as if searching for something old, something cruel.
"You and I… we've done this before. Lifetime after lifetime. Always the same. We find each other, we remember, and then…" He trailed off. "Something tears us apart."
Lyra stared at him. "That's insane."
"Is it?" He stepped closer, the air between them charged with something unspoken. "You've dreamed of me since you were a child. You feel it too, don't you? The pull. The ache in your chest when you look at me. The memories hiding behind your eyes."
"I—" She wanted to deny it. But she couldn't.
Because even now, standing here, she could feel it: a magnetic thread connecting their hearts, something older than time.
"Why now?" she whispered. "Why are we remembering now?"
Kael's voice dropped, almost a growl. "Because something's waking up