Name in the shadow

Opening Scene:

Lucien stands frozen in the dimly lit church, his breath shallow, his mind reeling. Eleanor. The name had slipped from his lips like an echo from another time, carrying weight, sorrow… and something else.

Celeste stares at him, her heartbeat quickening. The name stirs something deep inside her—a strange ache, a whisper in the back of her mind. But why?

“Who is Eleanor?” she asks softly.

Lucien looks at her, a storm raging in his silver eyes. “I don’t know,” he admits, his voice laced with frustration. “But I think… she was you.”

Thunder rumbles outside. The moment feels heavy, as if the universe itself is listening.

⸻

Unraveling the Past:

Lucien can’t let this go. He spends the next few days obsessing over the name, scouring through records of past souls, searching for anything that might trigger another memory.

Celeste, on the other hand, is haunted by dreams—visions of a life she doesn’t remember, of a woman named Eleanor standing by a moonlit lake, whispering a promise to someone she cannot see. The dreams feel real, too real.

At work, she finds herself distracted, her fingers absentmindedly sketching a symbol in the corner of her notebook—a crest of some kind. When she looks at it closely, a chill runs down her spine.

She’s never seen it before.

But she knows it means something.

⸻

The Hidden Truth:

Alistair appears again, watching Lucien from the shadows. This time, his warning is more urgent.

“You don’t understand what you’re doing,” he says. “Memories are not just memories for someone like you. They hold power. They hold consequences.”

Lucien glares at him. “Then tell me the truth.”

Alistair studies him for a long moment before sighing. “Eleanor was real. And she was more than just someone you loved.” His voice drops lower. “She was the reason you lost everything.”

Lucien’s blood turns to ice. “What do you mean?”

But Alistair only gives him one last look before vanishing into the night.

⸻

The Crest’s Secret:

Celeste takes the sketch of the crest to an antique dealer, hoping to find some answers. The old man examines it, his brows knitting together in recognition.

“Where did you see this?” he asks, his voice grave.

“I… I just drew it,” Celeste says, suddenly uneasy. “Do you know what it is?”

The man hesitates before answering. “It belonged to a noble family from the 1800s. Their lineage was cursed. Every generation, tragedy followed them. And the last known member…” He pauses.

Celeste leans in. “Who?”

He looks her straight in the eye. “Eleanor Vale.”

Her breath catches. The room seems to spin. Vale.

Lucien’s last name.

⸻

Cliffhanger:

That night, Celeste rushes to find Lucien, her heart pounding. She bursts into his apartment, breathless, holding up the sketch.

“Lucien,” she gasps. “This crest—Eleanor Vale—she was part of your family.”

Lucien stares at the paper, his hands clenching.

And then—another memory crashes into him.

A dark forest. A blood-red moon. Eleanor’s tear-streaked face as she whispers, “Forgive me, Lucien.”

And then—screams.