Draven:

  I woke with a sharp inhale.

  For a moment, I didn’t know where I was.

  The afterimage of blinding white light seared my vision, fading like a dream slipping through my grasp. My breath was uneven, my pulse a restless drum against my ribs.

  Then, reality settled.

  The scent of aged wood and parchment. The distant murmur of voices in the courtyard below. The golden light spilling through the window, stretching shadows across the floor.

  Evermere.

  I exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to my forehead. The weight of the dream—if it had been a dream—still clung to me, thick as fog. The voice in the darkness. The memories that weren’t mine.

  You do not yet see.

  I shook the words away.

  The world outside my window was untouched by my unrest. The city unfolded in familiar strokes—cobbled streets winding between sunlit buildings, vendors setting up their morning stalls, students drifting toward the library steps.

  Everything was the same.

  And yet, the feeling in my chest said otherwise.

  A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts.

  "Draven!"

  Alaric’s voice. Bright. Familiar.

  I hesitated, then forced myself upright. "Come in."

  The door creaked open, and Alaric stepped inside, his usual smirk already in place. His auburn hair was tousled from the wind, his cloak dusted with the scent of early morning air.

  "You look terrible," he announced, dropping onto the edge of my desk. "Rough night?"

  I rubbed my temples. "Something like that."

  Alaric tilted his head, studying me with a flicker of real curiosity beneath the usual teasing. "You're not usually the ‘troubled dreams’ type. Unless you've finally realized how deeply in love you are with me. In which case, I’m flattered, but tragically unavailable."

  I let out a dry laugh. "Truly devastating."

  He grinned, then tossed something onto the desk beside me—a worn leather book. "Come on. No more brooding. We’re meeting Selene at the hills today. First real adventure beyond the city walls."

  The hills.

  Something about that struck a nerve, though I couldn’t say why.

  "Unless," Alaric continued, raising an eyebrow, "you’d rather sulk in here all day, contemplating the meaning of life while staring dramatically out the window?"

  I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Fine. Let’s go."

  Alaric clapped me on the back, his usual energy unwavering.

  But as we stepped into the morning light, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was waiting for me beyond the walls of Evermere.

  And whatever it was—

  It had been waiting for a long time.

  The streets of Evermere were alive with the rhythm of morning. Market stalls brimmed with jewel-toned fruit, the scent of fresh bread curled through the air, and the chatter of vendors wove through the cobblestone paths like a familiar melody.

  I tried to let the normalcy settle me.

  It didn’t work.

  Alaric walked beside me, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, humming some tune he’d probably heard from a bard the night before. He wasn’t in a hurry, never was, but there was a lightness to his step that made it clear he was looking forward to today.

  "Selene’s probably already at the gate," he said. "You know how she is about schedules."

  I nodded, but my thoughts were elsewhere.

  I kept feeling it. The weight of something just outside my senses, pressing against the edges of my mind. Like standing in a quiet room and knowing—without a doubt—that you weren’t alone.

  Evermere was the same as it had always been. But the air tasted different.

  Tighter.

  We turned onto the main street leading to the outer gate, and sure enough, Selene was already there, leaning against the stone archway, arms crossed.

  She spotted us immediately, dark eyes sharp beneath the hood of her cloak. "You’re late."

  Alaric scoffed. "We are exactly on time. You, my dear, are simply unreasonably early."

  Selene gave him a pointed look. "I said midday. It’s past midday."

  Alaric glanced at the sun, squinting. "Barely."

  She exhaled through her nose but didn’t push it. Instead, she turned to me.

  "You good?"

  It was a simple question. But something about the way she said it—like she’d already decided the answer—made my throat tighten.

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  "Yeah," I said. "Fine."

  She didn’t look convinced, but she let it go.

  "Alright," she said, straightening. "Let’s go before the sun sets."

  Beyond the gate, the wilds stretched toward the horizon—rolling hills that faded into dense forests, rivers threading through the valleys like veins of silver.

  Evermere was my home. But out there—

  Out there was everything else.

  The moment we stepped beyond the city walls, the air changed.

  Evermere had a warmth to it—a familiarity that softened its edges. Out here, the wind carried no such comfort. It moved differently, unfiltered by stone and chimney smoke, sweeping across the hills in long, whispering currents.

  I pulled my cloak tighter.

  Alaric stretched his arms behind his head, entirely unbothered. "Ah, freedom. Do you smell that, Draven? That’s the scent of adventure."

  Selene adjusted the strap of her satchel, giving him a dry look. "That’s the scent of damp earth and livestock."

  Alaric shrugged. "Details."

  We followed the worn dirt path that wound through the hills, our boots crunching over frost-laced grass. The world stretched wide around us—rolling fields scattered with clusters of trees, the river glinting like molten silver in the afternoon light.

  Evermere sat safely behind us now, its towers shrinking against the horizon.

  I should have felt exhilarated.

  Instead, unease curled beneath my skin.

  Something about today felt... off.

  "Alright," Alaric said, walking backward in front of us, as effortlessly reckless as ever. "Remind me—why are we risking life and limb wandering beyond the city’s protective embrace?"

  Selene rolled her eyes. "Because this is where the stars fell."

  Alaric’s grin widened. "Right. The Falling Stars. And what exactly are we expecting to find? Cosmic wisdom? An ancient artifact?" He gasped, placing a hand over his chest. "The meaning of life itself?"

  Selene ignored him and kept walking.

  I forced a smirk, though my thoughts were distant. "You’re asking the wrong questions."

  Alaric arched an eyebrow. "Oh? And what are the right ones?"

  I glanced toward the distant tree line. The place where, years ago, I had seen something I wasn’t supposed to.

  Something I had told myself was just a trick of the light.

  Not who put those stories there.

  Not why we chose to believe them.

  But whether we were supposed to find them at all.

  The hills sloped downward as we walked, the dirt path narrowing into a winding trail. The farther we moved from Evermere, the quieter the world became. The wind still stirred the grass, the river still whispered over stone, but something was missing.

  Birdsong.

  I hadn’t noticed it at first. But now, the silence pressed against my ears, thick and unnatural.

  Selene must have felt it too. She slowed her pace, glancing toward the sky. “It’s too quiet.”

  Alaric snorted. “Finally, a moment without your nagging. Let’s enjoy it while it lasts.”

  She shot him a glare, but I barely heard them. My focus was elsewhere.

  Ahead, where the trees clustered at the base of the hills, something shifted.

  It wasn’t movement, not exactly. More like the absence of it. A space where the light didn’t quite reach. Where the wind refused to stir the branches.

  I knew that wrongness.

  I had felt it before.

  A shiver crawled up my spine.

  “Draven?”

  I blinked. Selene was watching me. I realized I had stopped walking.

  Alaric followed her gaze, frowning. “You alright?”

  I forced my legs to move, catching up to them. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

  Selene gave me a look but didn’t press. Instead, she turned her attention forward. “The site isn’t far now. Just past the river.”

  We kept walking. But the feeling in my gut didn’t fade.

  If anything, it deepened.

  I blinked—

  And suddenly, I was home.

  The shift was seamless, like stepping through a door I hadn’t realized was open. A moment ago, I had been in the hills, the scent of damp earth and riverstone in the air. Now, warmth curled around me, the scent of cinnamon drifting through the halls.

  Golden light pooled across the wooden floor, dust motes dancing lazily in the air. The quiet hum of home settled against my skin, familiar and steady.

  I knew this place.

  I had lived in these walls my whole life.

  But something about it felt distant. Stretched thin, like a memory just out of reach.

  I was standing in the kitchen. My mother stood near the stove, her dark hair pinned back, hands steady as she kneaded dough. My father sat at the table, one arm resting on the worn wood, watching her with quiet amusement.

  I opened my mouth to speak—

  Then hesitated.

  They hadn’t noticed me yet.

  For the first time in a long while, I simply watched.

  The way my mother’s lips twitched when she was deep in thought. The way my father’s fingers tapped absently against the table, a rhythm he had probably picked up from an old song. The way the sunlight softened the edges of everything, turning the room into something warmer than reality.

  A breath left me before I realized I’d been holding it.

  I had always taken this place for granted. The steadiness of it. The way it had always been here, unchanged, untouched by the rest of the world.

  I almost believed it would last forever.

  Almost.

  My father was the first to notice me.

  “Draven,” he said, his tone easy, familiar. “You’re quiet today.”

  My mother glanced over her shoulder, brushing stray flour from her hands. “He’s always quiet.”

  I smirked. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  My father chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Not bad. Just unusual. Especially after a day out with Alaric.”

  I sat at the table, the warmth of home settling over me. The feeling of being here—solid, steady—pushed away the lingering sense of disorientation.

  My mother returned to her work, kneading dough with practiced ease. “You’re back later than usual.”

  “Got caught up.” I hesitated, fingers tracing the grain of the wooden table. “We went to the hills.”

  My father hummed, thoughtful. “The Falling Star stories again?”

  “Selene wanted to see if there was anything to them.”

  My mother shook her head with a knowing smile. “That girl and her legends.”

  I expected my father to laugh, to make some lighthearted remark, but he only nodded slowly. His gaze flickered, unreadable, before he reached for his mug of tea.

  Something about that gave me pause.

  A quiet tension settled between them—just for a second, just long enough for me to notice. But then my mother wiped her hands clean, and the moment passed.

  “You should eat before it gets cold,” she said, sliding a plate toward me.

  I glanced between them once more before deciding to let it go.

  For now.

  I ate without thinking, letting the warmth of the meal settle me. My parents fell into their usual rhythm—my mother tidying as she moved, my father occasionally making a quiet remark just to hear her scoff in response. The air between them was familiar, steady.

  For a while, I let myself believe that nothing had changed.

  But eventually, I pushed my chair back. “I think I’ll turn in early.”

  My mother raised an eyebrow. “Alaric finally tired you out?”

  I smirked. “More like Selene. She had a whole plan.”

  My father chuckled. “Of course she did.”

  I stood, taking my plate to the basin. My mother’s hand brushed my arm as I passed. A small thing, barely noticeable. But there was a softness in the gesture. A quiet I’m glad you’re home.

  I gave a small nod in return.

  Then I left the warmth of the kitchen and stepped into the cool quiet of the hall.

  My room was at the end.

  The door creaked as I pushed it open, the scent of parchment and aged wood greeting me. My space had always been tidy, but lived-in—books stacked neatly on the desk, a half-open journal resting beside them. The bed was unmade, the sheets slightly rumpled from where I’d tossed them aside that morning.

  The single window overlooked the city, rooftops bathed in the dying light of evening. I could just make out the Great Library’s spires in the distance, stretching toward the sky.

  I let out a breath and sat at my desk, running a hand through my hair.

  For the first time since returning home, I was alone.

  And the weight of the day settled fully on my shoulders.

  I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. The distant hum of Evermere’s streets faded as the house settled into its familiar stillness.

  It should have felt comforting.

  But something in me felt restless, like a thread pulled too tight.

  I glanced toward the window, watching as the last traces of sunlight melted into twilight. The city stretched beyond the glass—unchanged, unwavering.

  Yet, deep down, I knew.

  This was the last time things would ever feel this simple.