Seraphine's breath hitched.
The man stood motionless, watching her with those unnerving golden eyes—eyes that did not belong to any ordinary human.
She should have run. She should have fought.
But her limbs were heavy from exhaustion, and her thoughts were still reeling from everything that had happened.
Caius. The king's men. The ruins. The entity's words.
And now, this stranger.
His presence carried the same weight as the visions that haunted her. As if he had stepped out of a story long forgotten—one she had once known but could no longer recall.
Seraphine clenched her fists. "Who are you?"
The man smirked.
He crouched by the fire, tossing another log into the flames. Sparks danced in the night air, casting flickering shadows across his face.
"Names are dangerous things," he mused, "especially for people like us."
Her skin prickled. "People like us?"
His golden gaze lifted to hers. "Cursed."
The word sent a shiver down her spine.
Seraphine forced herself to stand, ignoring the ache in her muscles. The damp cloak he had given her weighed on her shoulders, still warm from the fire.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
His smile widened, sharp like the edge of a blade. "Lies don't suit you, little star."
Her heart skipped a beat.
He had called her that before.
Welcome back, little star.
She took a slow step back. "You're mistaken."
The man didn't move. He simply watched her, as if he had already seen every choice she could possibly make.
Then, in a voice laced with something ancient, he said:
"I remember the night you fell."
Seraphine froze.
The world tilted.
Her pulse roared in her ears. "What—"
"You burned like a dying sun," he continued, his tone almost reverent. "The sky split open, the stars wept, and the world trembled beneath your wrath."
A sharp pain stabbed through her skull. Flashes. Echoes.
—A sky ablaze with fire.
—A shattered throne.
—A voice, whispering her name.
Seraphine stumbled, gasping.
The man's expression remained unreadable. "Ah," he murmured. "So you do remember something."
No.
She didn't.
And yet—
She did.
Somewhere, deep inside, buried beneath lifetimes of forgetting—
She knew him.
---
The Wolf's Name
Seraphine steadied herself, forcing air into her lungs.
Her thoughts swirled, disjointed and chaotic. "You're playing games with me."
The man tilted his head, amused. "Am I?"
She clenched her fists. "You speak as if you know me. As if we've met before."
His smirk softened into something unreadable. "We have."
Her blood turned cold.
She opened her mouth—demanding answers, demanding the truth—but he was already rising to his feet, moving with a predator's grace.
"I told you, names are dangerous," he murmured. "But if you insist…"
The firelight flickered, and for the briefest moment, his form shifted.
Not a man. Not just a man.
The image of a great black wolf flashed in the space where he stood, its golden eyes locked onto hers, fangs gleaming in the darkness.
Then, as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone—replaced once more by the figure of a man.
He smiled.
"My name is Orien."
Seraphine's breath caught.
Orien.
Caius's words from earlier echoed in her mind: "If something happens, find Orien. He'll know where to go."
She had thought he meant a friend, an ally.
But this—this was something else entirely.
"You…" Her voice wavered. "You're the one Caius sent me to find."
Orien's golden gaze flickered with something unreadable. "So the little knight still remembers me."
A shadow passed over his expression.
"He always was too loyal for his own good."
Something about the way he said it made her uneasy.
She forced herself to focus. "Caius said you could help me."
Orien studied her for a long moment.
Then he exhaled, running a hand through his dark hair. "I suppose I could."
Relief surged through her—until he added, almost lazily,
"But first, I need to know one thing."
Seraphine tensed. "What?"
His gaze darkened.
"Do you want to remember?"
The question hit her harder than she expected.
Did she?
Because if she sought the truth—if she truly uncovered what had been lost—
There would be no turning back.
Her chest tightened.
She thought of Caius. Of the ruins. Of the entity's words.
You shattered the world once. And you will do it again.
Seraphine closed her eyes, steadying herself.
Then she met Orien's gaze.
And she answered.
---
A Choice That Cannot Be Undone
The silence stretched between them.
Then Orien gave a slow, knowing nod.
"Very well."
Without another word, he turned and gestured for her to follow.
Seraphine hesitated only a moment before stepping forward.
Whatever lay ahead—whatever truth awaited—
She was ready.
Or, at least, she would be.
The past no longer belonged to shadows.
It belonged to her.
And she would reclaim it.
-l