The first time Aerin saw Lucien, he was standing under the twilight sky with his eyes closed, arms outstretched, as if he were calling the stars to fall into his palms.

Aerin had always been told that soulbonds were myths—fairytales sung to children on stormy nights. But as he stood there, frozen on the forest trail, watching this stranger with silver strands laced in his black hair, he felt something pull inside his chest.

It wasn’t fear.

It was recognition.

“Who are you?” Aerin asked before he could stop himself.

Lucien’s eyes fluttered open—violet, like dusk caught in a gemstone—and turned to him with a softness that felt like déjà vu.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Lucien said simply.

---

Aerin should have walked away.

He was a healer in the Eastern Province, devoted to herbs and quietude—not fated encounters and stories about destined lovers. But Lucien didn’t ask for his time. He just started appearing—in the market where Aerin shopped, on the bridge where he liked to sit at dawn, and most often, by the forest.

Always quiet. Always watching. But never pushing.

And that’s what made Aerin fall.

Not the mystery. Not the ethereal beauty. But the patience.

One day, Aerin found Lucien sitting under the weeping tree near the edge of the cliff. The wind danced around him, and Aerin could see that his hands were trembling.

“You’re not from here, are you?” Aerin said as he sat beside him.

Lucien gave a faint smile. “Not anymore.”

“Then where?”

Lucien looked toward the clouds. “From the in-between.”

Aerin frowned. “That’s not a place.”

Lucien finally turned to him and whispered, “It is, for souls that got lost between lifetimes.”

---

That night, Aerin couldn’t sleep.

He dreamt of another life—of being held tightly against a warm chest, of hands brushing tears from his cheeks, of whispered promises beneath moonlight.

In the dream, he wore white robes, embroidered with a phoenix.

The man holding him had violet eyes.

---

Weeks passed, and their bond deepened—without needing words.

Lucien was different. He didn’t know how to use currency, but could name every constellation. He didn’t fear wolves, but flinched at the sound of thunder.

He wasn’t human in the ordinary way.

One evening, as Aerin stitched up a wounded bird, Lucien spoke quietly from across the room.

“I found you in every life,” he said.

Aerin paused. “…What?”

Lucien’s gaze didn’t waver. “In every life I remembered you. But you… never did.”

Silence stretched between them.

Aerin’s heart beat hard in his ears. He didn’t know what to say—what to believe.

“I… don’t remember,” he admitted, his voice almost cracking.

Lucien smiled faintly. “That’s okay. You always remember in the end.”

---

That night, Aerin dreamt again.

This time, he was dying. On a battlefield drenched in fire and ash, his robes torn, a blade through his side. And Lucien—dressed in black, with gold armor glinting under the moon—cradled him, eyes wide and full of sorrow.

“I’ll find you again,” Lucien had whispered in the dream. “No matter how long it takes. I’ll find you, Aerin.”

Aerin woke up crying.

---

“Why me?” he asked Lucien the next morning, standing outside under the open sky. “Why always me?”

Lucien looked at him as if the answer was so simple it didn’t need to be spoken.

But he said it anyway.

“Because you’re my soul’s other half.”

---

The townspeople began to talk.

Whispers about the stranger who never aged, who never ate, who always followed the healer like a shadow.

Aerin heard them, but he didn’t care.

He only cared when Lucien began to fade.

Not visibly. Not like a sickness.

But there were days Lucien couldn’t hold Aerin’s hand. Days when his body became more mist than flesh. And the violet in his eyes began to dull.

“You’re leaving,” Aerin said one day, holding Lucien’s face in his hands. “Why?”

Lucien looked down. “Because time is catching up to me.”

“You said you’d find me in every life.”

“I will.”

“Then stay in this one!”

Lucien touched his cheek softly. “You still don’t remember everything. When you do, you’ll understand.”

---

So Aerin searched.

He went to the oldest library in the province. He read legends of soulbonds—of twin flames separated by death and reunited in rebirth. He meditated. He even drank a memory elixir, something he never trusted as a healer.

And then, one night, he remembered.

---

The cliff. The promise. The first bond.

Centuries ago, they had been warriors from rival clans, forced to duel. But their blades clashed not with hatred—but with hesitation. Because one glance had sparked something too familiar, too sacred.

They fled. Together.

They lived in hiding. They made a home.

But the war found them. Aerin was taken. Lucien killed for his rebellion.

But before death took him, Lucien sealed his soul with Aerin’s, vowing to follow him into the next life, and the next, until they could love freely—without fear.

“I remember now,” Aerin whispered into the wind, tears streaming down his face.

And the wind carried back a voice.

“Then come find me.”

---

He ran to the weeping tree.

Lucien stood there, half-transparent, eyes sad and glowing.

“You remembered,” Lucien whispered.

Aerin launched into his arms, hugging him as tightly as he could. “I remember everything.”

Lucien buried his face in Aerin’s shoulder, his form flickering. “I don’t have much time. I was never meant to stay this long. The in-between is pulling me back.”

“Then let me come with you.”

Lucien pulled back, startled. “You can’t—”

“I’m not afraid.”

Lucien’s voice trembled. “You’ll forget again. And the pain… it will return.”

“Then I’ll remember again. I’ll find you. Every time.”

Lucien looked at him like he was the universe reborn. “Aerin…”

The sky split.

Not with lightning, but light.

Golden threads danced around them, shimmering as if the heavens themselves had opened a door.

Lucien’s body glowed, no longer fading but reforming—brighter, more real.

The bond had awakened fully.

Two souls, intertwined beyond time.

---

Aerin stepped forward and offered his hand. “No more in-between. Stay with me.”

Lucien hesitated for only a moment—then took it.

The threads wrapped around them both, sealing their promise with light.

When the glow faded, Lucien stood whole again, eyes bright with life—not trapped between worlds, but born anew.

---

They left the town. Found a quiet place in the mountains. Built a home with a garden and a telescope for star-watching.

They didn’t need promises anymore. Just each other.

Some nights, they would lie under the stars, fingers interlaced.

“You know,” Lucien would murmur, “I think the stars remember us.”

Aerin would smile. “Then let them watch. This time… we’ll have forever.”