The storm had passed, but it lived on inside me.
The world outside was still soaked in silence when I stepped into Literature the next morning. The scent of petrichor clung to my hoodie, stubborn and earthy, as if the rooftop rain had soaked not just my clothes but my soul. Damp leaves littered the walkways outside. Water still dripped from the edges of buildings like the storm refused to let go.
I knew the feeling.
Inside the classroom, fluorescent lights buzzed softly above, too bright for the ache behind my eyes. The room smelled faintly of coffee, ink, and old paper-a sharp contrast to the wildness still clinging to my skin. I slid into my seat near the middle row, fingers brushing the smooth surface of my desk, trying to anchor myself to something real.
But the weight in my chest wouldn't lift.
I could still feel him.
Alec.
Professor Anders.
His presence lingered like the scent of ozone after lightning-quiet, charged, and impossible to ignore. I tried to focus on the pages of the open book in front of me, but the words blurred into meaninglessness.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw flashes-lightning behind his gaze, storm winds curling between our fingertips. He'd looked at me like he recognized something. Something dangerous. Something important. Something... his.
I didn't know what to do with that.
I didn't know what to do with myself.
And that was the problem.
⸻---
It always starts with the scent of fire.
Not the comforting kind that crackles in fireplaces or weaves through autumn air with cinnamon and clove. No. The fire in my dreams is feral. It snaps like bone. It feeds on ash and screams. It smells like endings.
Thick, black smoke clouds the sky, bleeding into the clouds until even the rain can't wash it away.
We were running.
Ana's hand was in mine, smaller than I remembered, both of us barefoot, lungs burning as we splashed through puddles and ruin. The sky was bleeding-orange, red, gold-lit with flames that didn't belong to any sun. And behind us, thunder cracked so loudly it felt like the gods were angry.
Or afraid.
"Scarlet, go!" Ana shouted, tears blending with rain, her voice breaking apart with every breath. Her dark hair whipped across her face as she pulled me harder. "They're behind us!"
I could feel them.
Rogues.
The corrupted wolves-more beast than man. Their growls vibrated through the storm, footsteps pounding like war drums. Their energy was wild and broken. Twisted. No reason. No mercy.
They didn't care that we were children.
That we were the last of something sacred.
They came to destroy.
We weren't warriors.
Not yet.
We were just girls.
The mud pulled at my feet like it wanted to keep me. I slipped, ankle twisting, pain flashing like lightning across my nerves. But Ana-my fierce, furious sister-yanked me back up. She didn't even flinch.
She never did.
And then-
Bread.
Warm. Sweet. Human.
The scent cut through the smoke like a miracle, and we followed it blindly. Crawling down alleyways, clinging to shadows, soaked and shaking, until we collapsed behind a small brick building nestled between forgotten shops.
Pan Dulce y Amor, the sign read.
Sweet Bread and Love.
I remembered the trembling in Ana's hands. How she curled into herself like a child too small to survive the world. Her lips had turned blue.
I wrapped myself around her, trying to shield her with what little warmth I had left, even though my teeth chattered too.
Then-
The door creaked open.
A halo of light spilled onto the cobblestones, and there she was. Framed by soft gold and the smell of baked sugar and sage. An older woman in a house dress and fraying slippers. Her gray braid hung over one shoulder, her eyes sharp with something ancient.
She didn't speak.
Not at first.
She only looked at us, two half-feral girls huddled in the dark like ghosts from a dying world.
Then she stepped forward and whispered:
"Ay, mis hijas... what have they done to you?"
That was the first time I felt safe again.
That was the night we met her.
Lucia.
Abuela.
⸻---
"Miss Everen."
His voice sliced through the memory like a blade-low and deep, pulling me back from the edge of a dream I hadn't meant to fall into.
I jerked upright, breath catching in my throat. My fingers gripped the desk in front of me as if it might steady the vertigo. The room had gone still, but the echoes of fire still roared in my ears.
The lights above buzzed louder. The scent of markers and cleaning spray rushed in like an unwelcome tide. I blinked hard, trying to shake the lingering smoke.
All eyes were on me.
Alec stood at the front of the classroom, one brow raised, his expression unreadable.
"Would you care to join the rest of us in the land of the conscious?" he asked. His tone was clipped, but not cruel. It was quieter than usual. Almost... cautious.
I forced a smile. "Sorry. Didn't sleep much."
I tossed my hair like it was nothing. But Ana, seated near the window, was already watching me-her stare sharp with silent understanding. She felt it too. That wasn't just a memory.
It was a warning.
A vision.
A tremor before the quake.
Professor Anders turned away without another word, continuing the lesson. His hand moved across the board, writing something about Milton's Paradise Lost, but I wasn't absorbing any of it. Not with the way his aura pulsed-measured but strained-like a wire stretched too tight.
I felt him watching me in intervals.
Pretending not to.
But I could sense the way his magic flickered beneath his skin.
Just like mine.
I stared down at my notebook, willing my pen to move. I needed to focus. To fake normal. But my hand trembled as I held it. My mind felt like a shattered windowpane, reflecting fire and fog and too many memories I hadn't asked for.
And then-
The world shifted.
⸻----
I wasn't in the classroom anymore.
The smell of damp earth and pine overwhelmed me. A forest surrounded me-ancient, sun-dappled, quiet. I stood barefoot in a patch of wildflowers, my white dress fluttering around my knees. My fingers were sticky with juice from a plum I must have just eaten.
There was a boy standing across from me.
Brown hair, tousled. Emerald eyes wide with something like joy, like sorrow. His face was young-twelve or thirteen-but there was strength in him already. The kind born from survival.
He was taller than me, but not by much. His clothes were wrinkled. One of his sleeves was torn, like he'd been fighting through brambles.
But his hand reached for mine.
And I didn't hesitate.
I slipped my fingers into his like I'd done it a thousand times before.
"I'm scared," I said, voice quiet.
He squeezed my hand. "Don't be. You're stronger than all of them."
"But what if they find us again?"
"I won't let them."
We sat together beneath an oak tree at the edge of the lake. The water behind us glittered with golden light, like it held the stars even in the middle of the day.
"Promise you'll remember me?" I asked.
His face softened. "Always."
And then-he leaned forward.
His lips brushed mine. Gentle. Reverent. Like I was something holy.
I'd never been kissed like that in real life.
But I had been here.
I had felt this.
The vision burned.
And then the world turned to smoke.
Crackling fire. Screams in the distance. The lake shattered with a surge of heat and memory. The boy's face blurred into shadow, ripped away by flame.
I screamed-
⸻---
And jolted upright in my desk, gasping.
Sweat beaded along my spine. My hands gripped the edges of my seat, and I blinked wildly to reorient myself.
I was back.
Classroom. Lights. Voices. Paper rustling.
And Alec.
His voice kept going, steady and smooth-but his eyes were locked on me.
Like he knew.
Like he'd felt it too.
⸻----
The bell rang.
I stood before anyone else, grabbing my things with shaking hands. I didn't meet Alec's gaze again. I couldn't. I rushed from the room, ignoring the tangle of bodies in the hallway, ignoring the whispers and eyes. I couldn't breathe until I was outside in the open air again.
I didn't stop until I reached the quad.
The giant oak stood like a sentinel, golden light filtering through its leaves. I didn't pause. I needed grounding. I needed Ana.
And there she was-cutting across the grass like she'd known exactly where to find me.
"We need to talk," she said, without preamble.
I nodded and led her toward the grove behind the old art building. The eucalyptus trees were dense and fragrant, their silver leaves whispering in the breeze. This space had always been our escape. Now, it felt like the only place where the truth could breathe.
I dropped onto the familiar stone bench, knees bouncing, energy twitching through my limbs like lightning leftover from the storm.
Ana sat beside me, back straight, magic pulsing faintly from her fingertips as she summoned a soft lavender charm to mask our presence. A protective veil shimmered into place, cocooning us.
"I saw it again," I said, voice hoarse. "The war. The night we ran. But it wasn't just memory this time-it was more. I could feel the blood on my skin. The ash in my mouth."
Ana stilled. "Your aura flared like a flare gun in class. I felt it from across the room. So did he."
I didn't have to ask who she meant.
"Alec," I whispered.
She gave me a sharp look. "He's dangerous."
I nodded. "I know. But he's also-connected. Somehow. I saw a boy. In the vision. Younger. But it felt like him. The way he held my hand. The way he looked at me."
Ana exhaled slowly, like she was weighing her words. "Are you sure it wasn't just a dream?"
"It was real."
Silence stretched.
"I'm starting to think," I continued, voice low, "that we knew each other before."
"Before Thornhollow?"
"Before the war."
Ana's eyes widened.
"We were too young-"
"I don't think age mattered back then," I cut in. "Not for people like us."
Her brow furrowed. "But if he's... if he's who you think he is, why doesn't he remember either?"
I looked down at my hands. "Maybe he does. Or maybe it hurts too much to try."
We sat in silence for a long time, surrounded by the rustling hush of the grove.
Then Ana said quietly, "You think this is fate?"
"I don't know," I whispered. "But it feels like something's waking up. In me. In him. In all of this."
Her hand found mine and squeezed.
"I believe you."
And somehow, that was enough.
For now.
------
Ana's calming charm lingered between us, the soft lavender haze curling around the bench like a dream trying to hold itself together. I leaned forward, elbows resting on my knees, fingers pressed hard against my temples as if pressure could somehow keep the memories from shattering me completely.
"Scarlet," Ana said softly, "what did you see this time?"
I hesitated. "It wasn't just the war."
She tilted her head, waiting.
"There was a boy. Not just any boy-I knew him. Not with my head. With... something deeper. We were by the lake. I was young. So was he. He kissed me, Ana. And I felt-" I broke off, searching for words. "I felt like I belonged there. With him. Like it had always been him."
Ana's brows drew together. "What did he look like?"
"Brown hair. Green eyes." I swallowed. "Eyes like Alec's."
She didn't speak right away. Her silence pressed against the air like a second heartbeat. Finally, she asked, "Do you think it was Alec?"
"I don't know," I whispered. "That's what terrifies me."
The grove was quiet around us. Leaves rustled, the eucalyptus trees whispering old secrets in a language we weren't meant to understand. A crow cawed in the distance, its wings slicing through the golden air above us.
"We were safe for so long," Ana said after a while. "I used to think that was a gift. Now I wonder if it was just... delay."
Delay before what, I wasn't sure.
Before the world remembered who we were?
Or before we remembered it?
My voice cracked. "What if remembering is what brings everything back? The danger. The darkness. The war?"
Ana stood and stretched, brushing her palms over her jeans. "Or maybe," she said gently, "remembering is what helps us win this time."
Her words landed with the weight of something fated.
And suddenly, I wasn't sure which scared me more.
------
We made our way back toward the university's main quad in silence, the soft crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant murmur of student voices grounding us in the present. But my thoughts were still tangled in the past.
Or whatever pieces of it I could grasp.
I glanced sideways at Ana. "Do you think it's possible we were meant to come here? That it wasn't just coincidence we ended up at Silverthorne?"
She didn't hesitate. "We were always meant to come back."
I frowned. "Back?"
Ana stopped walking, forcing me to stop too. She turned to face me, her tone cautious but firm. "Scar, what if you're not just remembering childhood... but home?"
The word cracked something open in me. Home.
Not Lucia's house, as safe as it was.
Not even the forest grove we used to hide in.
But somewhere older. Deeper. Buried.
"I don't know who I am," I confessed quietly. "Not all the way. I feel like I'm unraveling and... I'm afraid of what I'll find underneath."
"You're not unraveling," Ana said. "You're waking up."
Those words stuck with me long after we parted ways-her heading toward the library, me toward the west hall to grab coffee and ground myself. But even the bitter heat of espresso did little to calm the electric hum beneath my skin.
That's when I saw him.
Alec.
Across the quad. Alone.
Leaning against one of the stone columns near the old amphitheater, his head tilted toward the sky as if asking it for answers.
His shirt was dark, sleeves rolled up, damp hair curling slightly at the ends-like maybe he hadn't slept either.
I shouldn't have approached him.
But I did.
And he didn't walk away.
"Rough morning?" I asked, voice light but not flirty-not this time.
He turned slowly, those green eyes locking on mine like a compass snapping north. "You could say that."
There was a pause. Not quite awkward. Just... full.
Then he said, "You remembered something today."
Not a question.
A statement.
My breath caught.
"You felt it," I said.
"I always feel it."
The wind picked up, brushing past us like a spirit hurrying by. Leaves scattered. A raven croaked from the rooftops.
He stepped closer-just enough to shorten the space between us, not enough to draw attention. His voice dropped.
"You were by the lake," he said.
My heart nearly stopped.
"You remember too," I breathed.
His expression flickered-relief, guilt, something ancient.
"I've always remembered," Alec said quietly. "I just didn't think you ever would."
Something between us snapped tight again-familiar and terrifying.
Not just tension.
Recognition.
Fate.
And before I could ask more, before I could pull the thread that would unravel everything, a door slammed somewhere nearby and voices cut across the courtyard.
The moment broke.
He stepped back. Masked again.
"Be careful, Scarlet," he said.
Then he walked away.
And I wasn't sure whether to chase after him...
...or run in the opposite direction.