The gala was a spectacle of wealth and influence, hosted in the grand halls of the Valcrest Estate. Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in golden light, and the scent of expensive wine and rare perfumes lingered in the air. The elite of society moved like pieces on a chessboard, their laughter polished, their words veiled in hidden agendas.
Seraphina adjusted the silver mask that covered the upper half of her face, feeling oddly restless despite the night's glamour. She wasn't sure if it was the remnants of her dream or the unshakable feeling that something was about to change.
"Try to enjoy yourself," Elira whispered beside her, handing her a glass of champagne.
"I'll try," Seraphina murmured, though her instincts told her this night would be anything but ordinary.
Then, the air shifted.
A presence.
Her gaze was drawn across the room, as if compelled by something unseen.
That was when she saw him.
A man stood near the grand staircase, his sharp features carved in shadow and moonlight. Midnight-black hair, tousled yet deliberate, framed a face of striking angles. He was clad in an impeccably tailored black suit, the dark fabric accentuating the raw power coiled beneath his composed exterior.
But it was his eyes that caught her breath.
Golden. Burning. A gaze that stripped away the layers of time itself.
A pulse echoed through her, deep and visceral.
The man smirked, as if sensing her reaction.
Who…?
Then, before she could even blink, he was gone.
"Seraphina?" Elira's voice broke through her daze.
She turned, shaken. "Did you see that man?"
Elira frowned. "Which one?"
Seraphina scanned the room, but he had vanished. Was she imagining things? No, the intensity of that moment was too real.
Before she could dwell on it further, another voice—smooth and cultured—broke through the hum of conversation.
"I see you're as breathtaking as ever."
Seraphina turned sharply.
Lysian Veyne.
Dressed in a deep blue suit that matched the silver hue of his eyes, he exuded effortless charm, his smile warm yet unreadable. His presence was familiar—safe, even—but tonight, it unsettled her in a way she couldn't explain.
"Lysian." She forced a polite smile. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."
"I had no intention of attending," he admitted, "but something told me I shouldn't miss tonight." His gaze searched hers, something unspoken lingering in his eyes. "And now I know why."
A strange unease stirred within her. Before she could respond, a shadow loomed at her side.
Heat. A low hum of power. A storm wrapped in human form.
She turned—and found herself face-to-face with *him.*
The man from before.
The one with golden eyes.
A slow, knowing smile curved his lips. "Running into you feels like fate, doesn't it?"
Seraphina's breath hitched.
She didn't know why, but deep down, she felt it too.
*Kael Draven.*
And with his arrival, the past began to awaken.