Vile of remembrance

Lucien’s nightmares are becoming relentless. Each time he closes his eyes, fragmented visions assault him—Celeste illuminated by candlelight, her laughter filling a grand hall, her fingers brushing against his. But then, always, the moment shatters. A scream. A hand reaching for him. Darkness swallowing them both.

The weight of these dreams lingers in his waking hours, stirring an unshakable need for answers. He follows a strange pull through the city’s winding streets until he finds himself standing before an abandoned cathedral. The structure looms, its towering spires reaching for the stormy sky, its stained-glass windows cracked and lifeless.

Lucien hesitates at the entrance. He has never been here before—has he? Yet, a deep familiarity courses through him, as if the stones beneath his feet remember his presence.

Pushing the heavy doors open, he steps inside. Dust swirls in the dim light. The pews are broken, and time has left the place in ruin. But in the center of the altar, a single candle flickers, untouched by the decay.

Then, a voice. Soft. Haunting.

“Lucien…”

He turns sharply, his pulse spiking. Celeste? But there’s no one. Only shifting shadows.

A figure emerges from the darkness—a man draped in a tattered priest’s robe. His eyes, milky with age, study Lucien with knowing intensity.

“You seek answers,” the priest says. “But are you prepared for the truth?”

Lucien clenches his jaw. “Who are you?”

The priest smiles, the expression empty. “A keeper of what was lost. A witness to a love that defied time.” He steps closer, lifting a trembling hand. “You have forgotten, Reaper. But the soul never truly lets go.”

Before Lucien can react, the priest presses a hand to his forehead. A jolt of energy erupts through him, pulling him into a vision—

—The same cathedral, but alive with golden candlelight. Music drifts through the air. The pews are filled with faces blurred by time. At the altar stands Celeste, radiant in white. Her veil cascades behind her, her eyes locked onto his with infinite tenderness.

Lucien steps forward, heart pounding. He knows this moment. It feels real, more than a dream.

Then, the doors crash open. A figure cloaked in darkness storms in, and the warmth of the moment vanishes. Chaos erupts. Screams fill the air. A force stronger than any mortal power tears him and Celeste apart.

Her voice calls his name, but he can’t reach her. The world crumbles into shadows.

Lucien gasps, stumbling back into the present. The cathedral is once again silent and lifeless. The priest is gone. The candle still flickers, but the air feels colder, heavier.

His hands shake.

This wasn’t just a vision.

It was a memory.

And Celeste—she had once been his bride.

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