Chapter 1

The night was colder than usual in Arovan City.

High above the chaos and lights, in a penthouse that touched the clouds, Rudra Vehrin Arovan stood still — framed by glass, smoke curling from his fingertips, silence crackling like thunder in the air.

Dressed in a black three-piece suit, his steel-gray eyes pierced the darkness like a beast hunting the past. The scar on his jawline seemed to glow under the city lights, a permanent reminder of battles fought in silence.

He didn’t speak much. He didn’t need to.

One look from Rudra could paralyze even the bravest of men. After all, the underworld didn’t fear his fists — it feared his mind.

He had built an empire without ever lifting a gun.

But tonight… something was different.

He had dreamt again.

That same girl. That same fire. That same scream.

A woman with golden skin, long dark hair flowing like ink in the wind, and eyes filled with terror and love all at once.

He had never seen her face in real life.

Yet she haunted him.

"Who are you?" he muttered under his breath.

---

Far away, in a small town surrounded by mountains, Ishira Devanshi Raelitha gasped awake.

Sweat trickled down her neck, her golden bracelet glowing faintly in the dark.

The dream had returned — the battlefield, the falling kingdoms, the black-eyed warrior who stood over a pile of burning roses.

And… him.

The man with a scar and eyes like frozen lightning.

Why was he always in her dreams?

Why did it feel so real… so painful?

She touched her bracelet. It was warm, pulsing like a heartbeat.

“Elara… I saw him again,” she whispered into the silence, knowing her best friend was sleeping in the next room.

No response.

Only the sound of a distant thunder, echoing what she already feared —

Something was waking.

Something ancient.

Something royal.

---

In an underground chamber lit by flickering flames, Zaeron — The Whisper — poured wine into a crystal glass, humming an ancient lullaby.

“She dreams again,” he said to the shadows.

From behind a column, Aryan Raelitha stepped forward, his face unreadable.

“I know,” Aryan replied, adjusting the golden insignia on his cloak. “And he remembers her. Even though he doesn’t understand it yet.”

Zaeron chuckled. “When fire meets storm, kingdoms fall or rise.”

Aryan’s gaze turned cold. “We can’t let them remember. Not yet.”

“Ah, but destiny is impatient, Raelitha. And so is the curse.”

---

Back in the city, Rudra stood before a wall of screens.

Each showed moving clips — meetings, smuggling routes, coded threats from rival mafia clans.

But his mind wasn’t here.

It was with her.

That dream wasn’t just a vision.

It felt like a memory.

One not his own — but deeply rooted in his blood.

He touched the scar on his jaw, and for a moment… he saw flames.

A castle. A battle. A woman standing beside him — her hand in his.

And then — darkness.

He gritted his teeth.

"Kael," he called out.

A tall man with combat boots and a lazy smirk entered. “You dreamt again?”

Rudra didn’t answer.

Kael’s smirk faded. “We need to find her.”

---

At her college library, Ishira turned pages of a book she didn’t remember borrowing.

Its spine was gold. Its title: Raelitha: The Lost Kingdom.

"How did this…?" she whispered.

The pages opened on their own.

A portrait stared back at her.

A woman who looked exactly like her… wearing the same golden bracelet.

She dropped the book.

And in the hallway — thunder cracked again.

...“Some dreams are warnings... Some memories are borrowed... And some truths are too ancient to speak aloud.”...

The city never slept.

Especially not for someone like Rudra Vehrin Arovan, whose empire breathed beneath the concrete, in silence, in whispers, in blood.

Midnight.

The room glowed with the faint blue light of security monitors. Rudra stood shirtless in front of the mirror, water dripping from his hair after a cold shower. His scar—a wicked line slicing down his jaw—caught the light.

Another nightmare.

Another dream about her.

That girl. That same pair of terrified but brave eyes. That golden bracelet flashing in the dark. That fire swallowing the palace. And his own name whispered from her lips like a prayer...

He didn’t know her.

But her face haunted him.

Every night.

“Is this madness?” he whispered to his reflection.

Before the mirror could answer, the door creaked open.

Kael walked in, holding a file. “You were dreaming again,” he said, casually flipping open the folder.

Rudra didn’t deny it.

Kael placed the file on the table. “You asked for a report on Raelitha bloodlines and lost dynasties. This is what I found.”

Rudra’s eyes narrowed. “And?”

Kael hesitated. “One family disappeared from history without a trace. No graves. No documents. Just... gone. Burned from records.”

Rudra took the file. The image clipped inside stopped him cold.

Her face.

The girl.

But the name below said: Ishira Devanshi Raelitha.

“What is she?” Rudra murmured. “A memory? A warning?”

---

Meanwhile, across the city, Ishira jolted awake, sweat glistening on her forehead.

The dream had returned.

Fire. Swords. Shadows. That same pair of gray eyes watching her through the chaos.

And her own voice screaming, “Rudra!”

Why did she know that name?

She sat up, clutching the golden bracelet on her wrist. The only thing she’d worn since birth. No one knew where it came from. It couldn’t be removed.

Downstairs, her best friend Elara was making tea. “Another dream?” she asked without turning around.

“How do you know?” Ishira asked.

“You always walk like the floor might collapse under you.”

Ishira tried to smile but couldn’t.

“Do you ever feel like… like you're not who you think you are?” she whispered.

Elara finally turned to look at her. “Every day. But you? You were born different, Ishi.”

“I keep seeing a man. A storm behind him. Like he walks through fire and commands shadows.”

Elara blinked. “That sounds oddly poetic.”

“Or a curse,” Ishira said softly.

At that exact moment, across the world, Zaeron—the man known only as The Whisper—watched both of them from two different mirrors.

He smiled.

“They’re waking up.”

The dream came again. Ishira woke up gasping, her hands clutching her golden bracelet like a lifeline. The images were more vivid this time — fire raging, shadows swirling, and a voice calling her name through the chaos. That voice. It always left an ache in her chest, like a melody she had forgotten how to sing.

Outside her window, dawn tiptoed into the world, bathing her quiet room in a golden hue. Elara stirred on the opposite bed and murmured something incoherent, still fast asleep.

Ishira sat up, the dream replaying in her mind like a reel stuck in loop. Her heart beat wildly. She had never met the man in her dreams — the one with storm-gray eyes and a scar across his jaw. But every fiber of her being screamed that he was real.

At Arovan Corp, Rudra stood in front of the wide floor-to-ceiling windows, staring down at the city like a silent predator. The night had been sleepless. The dream was different this time — the flames had almost touched him, and the girl’s face had come into focus for a fleeting second.

"Sir," Kael said from behind, breaking his thoughts, "The shipment has arrived."

"Good," Rudra replied, voice calm but laced with menace. "And the man who thought he could cheat me?"

"Taken care of. No trace left."

"As it should be."

Kael hesitated. "You didn’t sleep again, did you?"

Rudra turned to face him. "She was closer this time. The girl. I saw her eyes."

Kael's expression faltered. He had never seen Rudra this… restless. Not even during the bloodiest of their missions.

Back at the university, Ishira tried to focus on her classes, but her mind wandered. Aryan watched her quietly from the last bench. He had seen the signs. The fire in her eyes. The slow awakening.

"It’s starting," he murmured to himself. "The curse… the bloodline… she’s feeling it."

Later that night, Ishira stood by her window again, watching the stars. Somewhere out there, a storm was brewing. And she could feel it in her soul.

The connection had begun.

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