Eldhaven awoke with the first light of dawn, the air alive with anticipation. The cobblestone streets bustled with vendors setting up stalls, their colorful fabrics rippling in the breeze. The scent of roasted chestnuts, candied fruits, and freshly baked bread filled the air. Children darted through the crowds, their laughter ringing like bells as they chased one another with paper masks of mythical beasts. The annual Festival of the Solstice was more than a celebration—it was a chance to forget the harshness of winter and revel in the promise of the sun's return.
Selene stood at the edge of the marketplace, her basket laden with jars of salves, tinctures, and dried herbs. She had intended to enjoy the festival like everyone else, but her restless night had left her feeling out of place. The dreams—the visions—were growing stronger, their weight pressing on her chest like a phantom hand. Yet, she forced herself to smile as she greeted her customers, selling remedies for aches, colds, and even love.
"Selene!" A familiar voice called out, and she turned to see Edric, the blacksmith's apprentice, jogging toward her. His auburn hair gleamed in the sunlight, and his boyish grin had always been a source of warmth in her otherwise solitary life.
"You're late," she teased, handing him a small vial of arnica oil she had prepared for his sore hands.
"Better late than never," he said, slipping a few coins into her palm. "Are you staying for the dance tonight?"
Selene hesitated. The festival's dance was a lively affair, but she had never felt truly at ease among the swirling skirts and laughter. Before she could answer, Edric's expression shifted, his brow furrowing as he looked past her.
"What is it?" she asked, turning to follow his gaze.
At the far end of the square, a stranger had appeared. He stood out starkly among the villagers, his tall figure cloaked in black, his face partially obscured by a hood. Though he seemed to move with purpose, his steps were slow, as if he were searching for something—or someone.
Selene felt a shiver crawl up her spine. There was something unsettlingly familiar about him, though she couldn't place why. The stranger's presence seemed to darken the vibrant energy of the festival, drawing wary glances from the townsfolk.
"Who do you think he is?" Edric whispered, his tone tinged with unease.
"I don't know," Selene replied, her voice quieter than she intended. "But I have a feeling he didn't come here for the festival."
The stranger's gaze swept over the crowd, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment, his eyes locked with Selene's. They were dark as obsidian, glinting with an intensity that made her breath hitch. Her chest tightened, a strange sensation of recognition flaring within her.
Before she could make sense of it, the moment passed. The stranger turned away, disappearing into the crowd.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Selene sold her wares, listened to Maren's stories about her youth, and tried to shake off the unnerving encounter. Yet, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the festival lanterns were lit, her thoughts kept circling back to the stranger.
By the time the dance began, she had resolved to put the encounter out of her mind. The square had been transformed into a glowing sea of light, with strings of lanterns casting golden hues over the revelers. Fiddlers and drummers struck up a lively tune, and couples twirled and laughed, their joy infectious.
"Selene!" Edric called, offering his hand. "One dance won't hurt."
She hesitated but eventually allowed him to lead her to the center of the square. The music swelled around them, and for a moment, Selene allowed herself to forget the dreams, the stranger, and the strange pull of her memories. She let herself smile, spinning with Edric as the world melted away.
But the peace didn't last. As the song ended and applause filled the air, Selene felt a prickle at the back of her neck. She turned sharply, her gaze sweeping the edge of the square. There he was—the stranger—watching her from the shadows.
Her heart thudded painfully as he stepped forward, his hood slipping back to reveal a chiseled face framed by dark, shoulder-length hair. His features were sharp and regal, his jawline strong, and his expression unreadable. But it was his eyes—those piercing black eyes—that held her captive.
"Selene," he said, his voice smooth and commanding, though barely above a whisper. The sound of her name on his lips sent a jolt through her, as if he had plucked a string deep within her soul.
"How do you know my name?" she asked, her voice trembling.
He took another step closer, the crowd around them fading into an indistinct blur. "Because I've been searching for you."
The crowd seemed oblivious to the tension crackling between them. Selene's instincts screamed for her to step back, to retreat into the safety of her familiar world. But something in his gaze—something that resonated with the fractured memories of her dreams—held her in place.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice firmer now.
"A friend," he said, though the weight of his gaze suggested something far more complicated. "Or at least, I once was."
Selene's heart raced as fragments of her dreams flashed before her eyes—the throne room, the betrayal, the man in the shadows. "I don't understand," she said, shaking her head. "What do you mean?"
"Not here," he said, glancing around. "Meet me by the old chapel at midnight. I'll explain everything."
Before she could protest, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving her standing in the glow of the festival lights, her mind spinning with questions.
Midnight came too quickly. Selene found herself standing outside the crumbling ruins of Eldhaven's old chapel, her breath clouding in the cold night air. She gripped a small dagger hidden beneath her cloak—a precaution more for her nerves than any real belief that she'd need it.
The stranger emerged from the shadows as if he were part of them, his movements smooth and unhurried. "You came," he said, his voice tinged with something that sounded like relief.
"Start talking," Selene said, her fingers tightening around the hilt of the dagger. "Who are you? And why do I feel like I've seen you before?"
His gaze softened, and for a moment, he looked almost… vulnerable. "My name is Kael," he said. "And you know me because you're not just Selene, the apothecary. You're Lysandra, queen of Solvara."
Selene felt the ground shift beneath her feet. The name struck her like a physical blow, pulling her dreams into stark clarity. "That's impossible," she whispered. "I'm not—"
"You were betrayed," Kael interrupted, his voice heavy with emotion. "Killed by those you trusted most. And now, you've been given a second chance."
"A second chance for what?" she asked, her voice rising. "To live? To… take revenge?"
Kael stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "To reclaim what was taken from you. Your throne. Your kingdom. Your life."
Selene's breath hitched. The dreams, the visions—they weren't just figments of her imagination. They were pieces of a puzzle she was only beginning to understand. And standing before her was a man who claimed to hold the answers.
But could she trust him? Could she even trust herself?
As the wind howled through the ruins, Selene felt the weight of her past and future pressing down on her. Whatever lay ahead, she knew one thing for certain—her life in Eldhaven was over.