Threads of fate

Celeste had spent her entire life believing in the ordinary. Books, coffee, and the quiet comfort of her shop were all she needed. But last night shattered that illusion.

The thing that had lunged for her, cloaked in shadows and whispers, had been real. And so was Lucien—the man who had stepped between her and it, his voice cold, his presence like a storm waiting to break.

“You’re not safe. Not anymore.”

She hadn’t been able to shake those words.

She needed answers. And only one person had them.

⸻

Elsewhere

Lucien stood atop a city rooftop, the wind cutting through him like a blade. He had spent centuries wandering between life and death, never lingering, never looking back.

But Celeste had changed everything.

The hooded figure’s words haunted him.

“You still don’t remember, do you?”

No, he didn’t. But something inside him—something ancient and restless—was stirring.

Memories that weren’t his. Or rather, memories that had been taken from him.

Celeste’s name burned in his thoughts, and despite every warning screaming at him to leave her alone, his feet carried him toward Moren’s Books.

⸻

Moren’s Books – Morning

Celeste had just unlocked the door when the bell above it chimed. She turned, expecting a customer, but her breath caught.

Lucien.

His presence filled the space like a shadow stretching across the floor.

“You have a bad habit of showing up unannounced,” she said, trying to ignore the way her heart pounded.

Lucien stepped inside, his dark coat blending with the dim light. “I told you,” he murmured. “You’re not safe.”

Celeste set down the book she had been holding, crossing her arms. “Then start talking.”

Lucien studied her. She was afraid—he could see it—but she wasn’t running.

“You won’t believe me,” he warned.

Celeste lifted her chin. “Try me.”

A ghost of a smirk flickered across his lips. Stubborn.

“You called me a Reaper,” she continued. “That thing—whatever it was—called you that too. Is it true?”

Lucien hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”

Celeste inhaled sharply. “And that thing? Was it trying to kill me?”

Lucien’s gaze darkened. “No.” His voice was quiet, but sharp. “It was trying to take you.”

A chill ran through her. “Take me where?”

Lucien’s expression hardened. “There are things in this world that exist between life and death. Some guide souls.” His voice dropped. “Others claim them.”

Celeste swallowed. “So it wanted to steal my soul?”

Lucien shook his head. “No.” His fists tightened. “It wanted you.”

She exhaled. “Why?”

Lucien hesitated. Because he didn’t know.

But in the deepest part of himself, something whispered—

You’ve lost her before.

And if the creatures of the in-between wanted her now, it meant one thing.

She’s part of a past you’ve forgotten.

“I intend to find out,” he said.

Celeste met his gaze, something unreadable in her eyes. “Then I guess we better start.”

Lucien nodded. “We start,” he said, “by remembering what was taken from us.”

And for the first time in centuries, he felt something he thought he had lost—