No Record Of Her

Lorenzo left Isolde alone in the apartment that morning, locking the door behind him with a glance over his shoulder. She sat by the window, her silver hair catching the morning light like spun moonlight, her gaze fixed on something far beyond the skyline.

His new job—thanks to Professor George’s recommendation—was at a small graphic design company nestled in the heart of the city. The first day had gone well. The team was friendly, the office quiet, and he spent most of his time editing promotional posters. It was just enough to keep his hands busy, though his mind remained elsewhere.

Thoughts of Isolde kept circling back—her story, her sudden appearance, and the impossible things she claimed to have seen. A world with magic. With dragons. With a bond so ancient, it couldn't possibly be imagined—unless it were real.

On his way home, something unusual caught his eye.

Tucked between two towering buildings stood a small, antique library with faded green windows and climbing ivy. A wooden sign above the door read in chipped gold paint:

“Whispers & Tomes – Rare and Arcane Texts.”

The place called to him.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of paper, wax, and time. Shelves reached toward the ceiling, crammed with books whose leather bindings had long since cracked with age. A single oil lamp flickered behind the reception desk, where an old man sat motionless, watching him.

“We sell every kind,” the man said, his voice dry and slightly mocking. “What are you looking for?”

Lorenzo hesitated. “Do you… have any books about magic?”

The man’s expression didn’t change, though his eyes narrowed just slightly. “Magic?” he repeated, as if testing the word. “Try the last row. If it exists, it’ll be there.”

Lorenzo moved quietly toward the back, heart thudding a little faster.

Books lined the shelves—Elemental Myths, The Phoenix Writings, A Treatise on Shadow Realms. Beautiful stories. Vivid illustrations. But none of them spoke of Isolde’s world. Nothing about soul-bound dragons. 

He searched again. And again. But it was all just fiction. Or at least, nothing that aligned with the strange truth he’d come to know.

Frustrated, he left without a word. The old man watched him go, expression unreadable.

“Why am I the only one who can see her?” Lorenzo mumbled to himself as he stepped back into the cool evening air. “Why does no one else remember her world?”

---

When he returned to the apartment, he found her exactly where he left her—still by the window, unmoved, silent.

“You stayed there all day?” he asked, surprised.

Isolde turned her head slowly, her violet eyes meeting his. “Where else would I go?”

He smiled gently and set his bag down. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. “We’ll find a way to send you back. I promise.”

She didn’t reply, but her nod was enough.

“I was thinking…” Lorenzo sat down beside her. “You said there were dragons. Is that real? I mean, I know it sounds ridiculous, but…” He leaned forward, eyes wide. “You had one, didn’t you?”

She blinked, and a small, wistful smile touched her lips. “Yes. His name was Kael.”

“What was it like?” he asked, his voice filled with a childlike wonder. “I mean… every kid dreams of dragons. Flying them. Fighting alongside them. But what is it really like—to have one?”

Isolde turned her gaze back to the sky. “It’s nothing like the stories here,” she began softly. “Kael wasn’t just an animal or a beast I tamed. He was part of me. We were bonded from the moment he hatched. I was just a child, and he was… all warmth and fire and feathers. He’d curl around me when I was afraid. He’d nudge me when I was sad. His thoughts echoed in mine. It’s hard to explain—it’s like having someone share your heartbeat.”

Lorenzo’s throat tightened. “That sounds... beautiful.”

“It was,” she whispered. “He grew quickly. We trained together. Flew together. Fought together. In my world, dragons choose you only if your soul matches theirs. It’s a sacred thing. And Kael… he was everything to me.”

“What happened to him?”

Her expression darkened. “The day she found me—the woman who sent me here—Kael tried to protect me. He threw himself at her, wings blazing. But she cast a spell, and… he vanished. Pushed into some void. I don’t even know if he’s alive. And when I came through that slide, there was no trace of him. Not a feather. Not a scale. Nothing.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lorenzo murmured.

She didn’t respond at first. Then she said, “You know what the worst part is? In my world, people remember dragons. They sing songs about them. They carve statues, paint murals. They honor them. But here… there’s nothing. No one knows Kael’s name. No one knows mine.”

“I know,” Lorenzo said quietly. “And I won’t forget.”

She looked at him then, really looked at him. “Why can you see me, Lorenzo? Why can you remember?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. But maybe it means something.”

Silence fell again, but it felt different this time. Like the pause between lightning and thunder. Like something was about to shift.

And far beyond the city skyline, the last rays of sun flickered—and for a heartbeat, Lorenzo thought he saw the shimmer of wings in the clouds.

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