Echoes of past

Opening Scene:

Lucien wakes up gasping for air, his heart pounding from another vision. This time, it was clearer than before—he was in a grand ballroom, dressed in a tailored black suit, dancing with Celeste under the glow of a thousand chandeliers. She was breathtaking, her eyes filled with love, her lips forming words he couldn’t quite hear. Then, darkness swallowed the scene. A voice whispered in his ear, low and menacing: “You were never meant to find her again.”

His hands tremble as he grips the edge of his bed. The memories are coming faster, stronger, more vivid. But why? And who doesn’t want him to remember?

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Celeste’s Intuition:

Celeste walks through the city, lost in thought. Ever since she met Lucien, strange things have been happening—dreams she can’t explain, feelings that don’t make sense. Today is no different.

She stops by a small, vintage café, lured in by the scent of coffee and something… familiar. As she sips her drink, her gaze falls on an old painting hanging on the wall. It’s a hauntingly beautiful depiction of a couple dancing, their figures blurred as if they were fading from existence. A chill runs down her spine.

She stands abruptly, her breath hitching as a whisper brushes past her ear: “Celeste.”

She spins around, but the café is quiet. No one is near her. Her hands tremble slightly as she clutches the edge of the table. This isn’t just coincidence anymore.

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The Warning:

Lucien is wandering the empty streets when he senses another presence. He turns, and there, leaning against a lamppost, is a man with piercing silver eyes.

“Still chasing ghosts, Vale?” the man says, his voice smooth, knowing.

Lucien narrows his eyes. “Who are you?”

The stranger smirks. “Alistair. I’m here to warn you. Stop looking for the past. Some truths are better left buried.”

Lucien clenches his fists. “Why do you care?”

Alistair steps closer, his presence radiating an eerie stillness. “Because if you keep digging, you won’t just unearth memories—you’ll awaken something that should have stayed dead.”

Lucien’s breath catches. There’s something about Alistair that feels… ancient. And he isn’t lying.

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A Fateful Encounter:

As fate would have it, Celeste and Lucien cross paths again that evening, caught in a sudden downpour. They find shelter in an abandoned church, its stained-glass windows cracked, its pews covered in dust.

Celeste hums softly, an old melody that seems to rise from somewhere deep within her. The sound makes Lucien freeze.

He’s heard that tune before.

“Where did you learn that?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper.

Celeste frowns, as if unsure herself. “I… don’t know. It just came to me.”

Lucien steps closer. Every instinct screams at him to remember, to connect the pieces. He reaches out to touch her hand—

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Cliffhanger:

A sharp, searing pain explodes in Lucien’s chest. He stumbles back, gasping. Celeste rushes to him, concern in her eyes.

Then, a name escapes his lips, unbidden, as the pain intensifies:

“Eleanor…”

Celeste pales.

Because for some reason, that name stirs something inside her too.