Background
The city of Ravenwood had always felt off, like a place stuck between reality and a dream. Tall, glass towers reflected a skyline perpetually drowned in mist, while ancient cobblestone streets whispered secrets beneath the feet of those who walked them. To most, it was just another modern city—a place of life, work, and fleeting love. But for Kelly B, it was a prison without walls, one she could never truly escape.
Every night, at exactly midnight, her memories disappeared, erased as if they had never existed. Notes scribbled in haste, a voice recorder with instructions, and scattered clues were the only evidence that she had lived another day. A single message, written in bold ink on her bedside mirror, greeted her every morning:
"Trust no one. Not even yourself."
Kelly B didn't know why she was cursed, only that someone—or something—wanted to keep her in the dark. But the city held answers, hidden in the places she feared to go.
The Forgotten Temple
Deep within the abandoned district stood an ancient cathedral, its doors sealed for centuries. Its stained-glass windows depicted a woman who looked exactly like Kelly, dressed in a flowing black gown, standing before a god with hollow eyes. No one knew who built the cathedral or why it remained untouched, but Kelly felt it calling to her—as if something inside was waiting for her return.
The Midnight Alley
In the heart of Ravenwood, a narrow alleyway existed where time moved differently. It was a place where shadows whispered, where those who had no past sought refuge. Legends spoke of a deal made in this alley centuries ago—one that doomed an entire bloodline to eternal oblivion. Ava didn't remember ever stepping foot there, but she knew, deep in her bones, that she had.
The Vale Library
Few had access to the Vale Library, a hidden archive buried beneath an old church. It was said to hold the truth about those who lived between life and death, between reality and forgotten dreams. Kelly had been warned never to go there. Which, of course, meant she had to.
Chapter 1: The Mirror's Warning
The first thing Kelly B noticed was the silence.
It wasn't the kind of peaceful quiet that came with dawn, nor the comforting hush of a world still asleep. This was unnatural, like the air itself had stopped moving, like something unseen was watching.
Her head throbbed. A dull, relentless ache sat behind her eyes, and when she blinked, the world around her shifted in a way that made her stomach twist. The room was familiar—but distant, like a place she had seen before but never truly lived in.
She sat up, sheets tangled around her legs. The dim morning light seeped through thick curtains, barely illuminating the small, cluttered apartment. Papers were scattered across the desk. A notebook lay open beside a black recording device, its red light blinking as if it had something important to say.
Then, she saw the mirror.
It was right across the room, cracked along one edge, its surface fogged with dust. And scrawled across it, in bold, smudged ink, were four words that sent a chill down her spine:
"Trust no one. Not even yourself."
Her breath caught.
A hand flew to her mouth, her own pulse thundering in her ears.
"What the hell…?" she whispered.
Kelly stood, forcing her shaky legs to move. The closer she got to the mirror, the more uneasy she felt. Something was missing. Something was wrong.
Her reflection stared back, wide-eyed, confused, and then—her heart stopped.
Because she didn't remember writing those words.
She didn't remember anything.
A knock on the door made her whirl around.
She wasn't alone.
And whoever was outside… knew exactly what she had forgotten.
The Stranger at the Door
The knock came again—sharp, deliberate. Not the hesitant tap of a neighbor or a delivery person. Someone knew she was inside.
Kelly's pulse quickened. She glanced at the mirror again, at the warning scrawled across it. Trust no one.
Another knock. Louder this time.
She took a step back, her bare feet brushing against something cold. Her eyes darted down—a silver key, lying on the floor as if it had been placed there. Had it been there before?
The door handle turned slightly. Whoever was on the other side wasn't waiting for an invitation.
Kelly's breath hitched. Panic clawed at her chest. Her instincts screamed at her to run, to hide, to do something—anything—but her body felt frozen. Then, a deep, steady voice cut through the silence.
"Kelly… open the door."
The voice sent a jolt through her. It wasn't unfamiliar, but she couldn't place it. It carried an edge, something between urgency and frustration.
She moved closer, pressing her hand flat against the wooden surface. "Who are you?"
A pause. Then—
"Rowel Don."
The name sent a shiver down her spine.
She didn't know him. She was sure she didn't know him.
But somehow… it felt like she should.
Her fingers tightened around the silver key. Something told her that if she opened this door, everything would change.
And yet, standing in the dim light of her apartment, with a blank memory and a stranger calling her name, Kelly realized something terrifying.
It already had.
The knock came again. Slow. Measured. Like the person on the other side already knew she was listening.
Kelly's pulse pounded in her ears.
The room felt colder now, the air thick with something unseen. She swallowed hard and took a step back, her gaze darting around the apartment—looking for answers, for familiarity, for anything that made sense.
But nothing did.
The cracked mirror, the warning scribbled across it, the silver key on the floor—it was like walking into someone else's life. And then, there was the voice.
Deep. Steady. Dangerous.
"Kelly… open the door."
She flinched. He knew her name. But how? Who was he?
Her fingers itched to reach for the key, to unlock whatever was waiting on the other side. But a part of her—the part screaming in her gut—told her that once she did, she wouldn't be able to take it back.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice barely above a whisper.
Silence. Then—
"Rowel Don."
The name sent an unnatural chill through her veins. It was familiar in the way a forgotten dream lingers on the edges of waking—just out of reach, but refusing to disappear.
She clenched her fists. Think, Kelly. Think.
But no matter how hard she tried, her mind was a void. There was nothing.
And then—
SCRATCH.
The sound came from beneath the door. Not a knock. Not a shuffle. But the unmistakable drag of nails against wood.
Kelly's breath caught in her throat.
Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
A shadow passed under the doorframe. She saw the shape of boots, unmoving, and the faintest sigh—like someone exhaling in frustration.
Then, Rowel spoke again. But this time, his voice was lower, almost… amused.
"You don't remember, do you?"
Her grip on the key tightened.
No, she didn't. But she was starting to think that remembering might be worse.
Kelly took a slow, measured step back from the door. Something was off.
The way Rowel said her name.
The way his voice felt familiar, yet distant—like a whisper from a life she couldn't recall.
And most of all, the way her instincts screamed at her to wait.
You don't remember, do you?
No, she didn't. But she wasn't about to open the door to a stranger just because he said her name.
Her eyes darted around the room. There had to be something here—something that explained why she felt like a ghost in her own life.
She turned sharply and moved to the desk. A pile of papers lay scattered across it, some blank, others filled with messy, almost frantic handwriting. Her own handwriting. She grabbed one.
"If you're reading this, it means it happened again. Keep calm. Look for the key. Look for the tape."
Her stomach dropped.
The tape.
Her gaze snapped to the voice recorder sitting beside the papers, the small red light blinking like it had been waiting for her. Her own voice… telling her what she needed to know.
She grabbed it, hesitated, then pressed play.
A burst of static filled the room, followed by a sharp intake of breath. Then—her voice. Weaker. Shaken.
"Kelly. If you're hearing this... it's already too late."
A cold wave of dread washed over her.
"You won't remember what happened yesterday. You won't remember anything. But listen carefully—do not open the door until you know the truth."
A faint creak from the hallway. Rowel was still there. Waiting.
Kelly gripped the recorder tighter, heart hammering as she listened.
"Rowel Don is the key. But he's also the reason you're trapped."
She sucked in a breath.
"And whatever you do—don't let him touch you."
A sudden, sharp knock rattled the door.
"Kelly." Rowel's voice was calmer now, but there was something beneath it. Something cold.
Her mind spun. He's the key. But he's also the reason I'm trapped.
The silver key on the floor.
The warning on the mirror.
Her own voice telling her not to let him touch her.
Kelly's fingers curled into a fist. Whatever this was, she wasn't playing blind anymore.
She reached for the papers, flipping through them faster, desperate for more answers when suddenly, something on the last page made her freeze.
A single sentence, written in hurried, jagged script:
"Don't trust what you see. He's not human."
Her breath hitched.
And outside the door, Rowel Don whispered—"I can hear you, Kelly."
Kelly's pulse pounded, her fingers gripping the recorder like it was her last lifeline. He's not human.
The words stared back at her from the paper, sharp and unforgiving. But before she could fully process them, Rowel spoke again.
"I can hear you, Kelly."
His voice was calm. Too calm. Like he was waiting for her to crack.
She swallowed hard, pushing down the fear clawing at her throat. If she was going to get answers, she had to play smart.
Taking a steady breath, she stepped closer to the door but didn't unlock it. "Why are you here?" she asked, keeping her tone steady.
A pause. Then—
"Because you asked me to be."
The response sent a chill down her spine.
She asked for this?
She tightened her grip on the recorder, replaying the message in her mind. "Rowel Don is the key. But he's also the reason you're trapped."
Lies. Truth. Which was which?
She leaned against the door, pressing her palm flat against the cool surface. "I don't remember anything."
Silence stretched between them. Then—
"I know." His voice dropped lower, almost… regretful. "That's why I came back."
Her heart skipped.
Back?
Her fingers hovered over the lock. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to stop, but she needed answers. She needed to see his face.
Slowly, she turned the key.
The lock clicked.
The moment it did, the temperature in the room plummeted. The air grew heavy, thick with an unseen weight. The flickering light above her dimmed, casting long, twisting shadows across the floor.
Something was wrong.
Kelly's breath hitched. Her body recognized the danger before her mind did.
She barely had time to react before the door—on its own—swung open.
And there he was.
Rowel Don stood in the dim hallway, his tall frame shadowed by the weak light. He was exactly how she imagined he would be—dark, striking, dangerous.
But it wasn't his appearance that sent ice down her spine.
It was his eyes.
A storm of silver and black, swirling like liquid mercury. Like something inhuman.
He tilted his head slightly, watching her with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. Then, with a slow, deliberate step, he crossed the threshold.
And for the first time, Kelly realized the truth.
He didn't need her permission to enter.
He never did.
Playing Along
Kelly's breath hitched, but she forced herself to stay still. Don't show fear. Don't let him know.
Rowel's gaze flickered over her, sharp and assessing, like he was waiting for her to react—to flinch, to step back, to run.
She didn't.
Instead, she crossed her arms and leaned against the desk, tilting her head slightly. "You don't knock like a normal person, do you?" she said, forcing a smirk
His lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. "You didn't answer like a normal person."
Kelly shrugged, pretending like her heart wasn't hammering against her ribs. Act normal. Buy time. Figure him out.
"Didn't realize I had a standard way of answering," she said, her voice smooth despite the chill in her bones. "Since, you know, I apparently don't remember anything."
Rowel's expression didn't change, but something in his posture shifted—a flicker of something unreadable. Regret? Amusement? She couldn't tell.
"I told you. That's why I came back."
Kelly raised an eyebrow. "Right. And I just conveniently forgot to mark that in my calendar?"
His gaze darkened. "Kelly."
The way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine. It wasn't a warning. It wasn't a threat. It was something else—something deeper.
Like he'd said it a thousand times before.
Her fingers curled slightly against the desk. She wanted to press for answers, to demand what he meant, but she knew better. If he was dangerous, the worst thing she could do was make him aware that she knew it.
So instead, she let out a breath and forced a laugh. "Fine. Let's say I did ask you to come back. What exactly are we supposed to be doing here?"
Rowel took a step closer. "Putting things back the way they should be."
Her stomach twisted. The way they should be?
She kept her face neutral. "And what exactly does that mean?"
He studied her for a long moment, his silver-black eyes searching hers. Then, slowly, he lifted his hand—palm up, waiting.
Kelly's entire body tensed.
"Don't let him touch you."
The warning from her own recording screamed in her mind.
But Rowel… he just stood there. Calm. Expectant. Unreadable.
And then he spoke, voice softer this time.
Kelly stared at his outstretched hand. The warning pulsed in her mind like a flashing red light—don't let him touch you.
But what if that was a lie?
What if the only way to remember, to understand, was to take that risk?
Her fingers twitched at her side. Rowel didn't move, didn't rush her. He just stood there, waiting, his storm-filled eyes locked onto hers.
Kelly took a breath. Then, slowly, she reached out.
The moment their skin touched, everything shattered.
A violent rush of memories slammed into her—flashes of places she didn't recognize, faces blurred by time, voices whispering in a language she didn't understand.
Pain.
Loss.
A promise—one she had made to him.
And then, fire.
Not real flames, but something deeper—burning through her veins, unraveling the very fabric of who she thought she was. Something inside her woke up.
Her knees buckled, and she would have collapsed if Rowel hadn't caught her. The moment his arms wrapped around her, a strange sensation washed over her—a mix of safety and devastation.
Like she had been here before. Like she had died here before.
Her breath came in short, sharp gasps. "What… was that?"
Rowel held her steady, his grip firm but careful. "The truth."
She looked up at him, dazed, her heart racing. "Who—who am I?"
His jaw clenched, as if he wasn't sure he should answer. But then, he exhaled and whispered the words that made her blood turn cold.
"You're mine, Kelly. And you always have been."
"Take my hand, Kelly. And I'll show you."