The café was quiet for a Sunday.
It was one of those rare mornings where the world moved slowly, as if time had rolled over in bed and hit snooze. Outside, the streets glistened from early rain, and the sun dabbled in through the window, painting the cafe in golden light.
Rory sat tucked in her usual corner, fingers wrapped around a mug she didn't remember finishing. The scent of espresso lingered in the air, mingling with the faint perfume of lilies from the florist next door. I gazed out the window, watching the leaves of autumn trees fall gently to the ground. Lost in thoughts of Faethorne, the scroll and a mischievous laughter that lingered.
Theo's laughter broke the silence.
He slid into the seat across from her, grinning like he always did when he caught her in a daze.
"Earth to Rory," he said, waving a sugar packet like a white flag. "Lost in Fairyland again?"
Rory smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"Something like that."
"I always wonder where that brilliant mind wanders too. Who are you planning on crashing into next?" he retorted, with a smirk plastered on his face.
"Pft—you walked into me, remember? Mr. I-was-totallyyyy-walking-straight?" I mocked, a smile threatening to break my solemn face.
His laughter echoed in the quiet cafe, as he relaxed back into his seat.
"Guilty, as charged" He smirked.
His handsome features and strawberry blonde hair, glistening in the warm autumn light.
Minutes had turned into hours.
He talked about a new art gallery opening near the pier, about renting bikes this weekend, about how he'd finally tried the bakery, that I wouldn't stop raving about that last time we sat here.
I nodded along, the ache in my chest grew softer with every chuckle of his, the way his eyes brightened when he spoke of his dreams and passions and the way his hands ran through his hair
The autumn sun hung low on the horizon by the time we reached my front doorstep.
"Thank you for walking me home, Theo" I say politely
He gave me that crooked grin again—the one that always makes my heart feel instantly lighter.
"Anytime, Rory. Just don't blame me if I start pretending to 'accidentally' bump into you next time," he chuckled, already walking backward with a wave, the autumn light catching in his hair.
The door clicked softly behind me.
I leaned against it for a breath longer than necessary, eyes closed, forehead resting against the cool wood. The scent of autumn clung to my hair—leaves, cinnamon, and sweet coffee.It smelled like him—Theo. His laughter still echoed in my ears, sweet and steady.
I peel off my coat, letting it fall over the chair, and wander into the dim light of my house. The kettle clicks on, and I move to the sink without thinking.
I look up at the window.
A figure stands there.
Shadowed, inhumanly tall, blurred at the edges like smoke trapped in moonlight. My breath catches—too fast. The mug slips from my hand and shatters in the sink.
"They're in danger."
The voice curls through me like a memory reborn. The same voice that had called me by name. The same voice from the forest, from the vision. The one that whispered that I belonged.
I blink.
Gone.
The kettle screams. I lunge to turn it off, but it's too late. The world is already shifting. My vision tilts—
And I fall back into Faethorne.
The forest was wrong.
I stood in a grove of crooked trees, black bark glistening with sap that looked too much like blood. The air buzzed—thick with rot and whispered promises. Shadows curled at the edges, shapes that didn't move quite right.
"Hello?" I called softly, my voice swallowed by the stillness.
And then—he stepped forward.
A tall figure, robed in dark velvet, his face hidden beneath a hood. But his voice... it was warm. Familiar. Almost gentle.
"You've come far, Aurora," he said. "So brave. So bright. But you're not ready to face what comes. Let me help you. You're not safe with them."
My breath caught.
No one had called me that—not in that voice. Not in that exact, terrifyingly tender way.
"Who are you?" I asked, though my voice betrayed me. "Where are Eira and Elandor?"
"They can't protect you..."
He stepped closer.
"But I... I can protect you," he murmured, voice soft as a serpent's breath. He raised a gloved hand.
"Give me the moonstone. Let me ease your burden, sweet Dawn."
And for a moment... a dangerous, aching moment... I almost stepped forward.
Until I saw it.
A puddle by my feet.
His hand—long, clawed, twisted wrong.
The trees groaned above me. The shadows laughed.
"No," I muttered, stepping back. Something doesn't feel right.
—CRACK—
A sharp sound tore through the grove. The illusion broke.
The figure's form eroded into black smoke, swirling violently.
It shrieked, a sound like rusted metal tearing through bone. The trees shook. Birds exploded from the branches in terror.
I stumbled back, heart hammering, the moonstone burning against my chest.
The shadow reformed—this time not as a man, but a creature. Bent. Writhing. Cloaked in smoke and malice.
A wicked grin slashed across its face.
"Faethorne's Dawn," it hissed. "Give me the stone."
My breath hitched.
Hands trembling, I reached for the nearest low-hanging branch.
"Stay away!" I shouted, knees quaking.
The creature laughed, a sound that curdled the air.
"You cannot escape me, Light of the Forest. The Master has sent me to collect what is his."
My heart pounded. I brandished the branch like a blade.
"Where are they?! What have you done with them?!"
"You'll never make it out of here..." it snarled. "Not in one piece."
It lunged.
I braced, shoving the branch forward—striking its arm.
It screamed, inhuman and enraged.
I ran.
Branches tore at my arms and clothes. The forest blurred. Shadows chased me like wolves in the dark.
Then—a flicker.
A pale blue light. Lune.
I didn't think. I ran toward it, toward the edge.
Almost free.
Then—cold.
Wet vines wrapped around my ankles. I fought, kicked, clawed. But they pulled, dragging me back. The laughter grew closer—sharper.
"No, not yet," I gasped, struggling. Not like this.
"I told you..." the voice hissed. "You couldn't run."
I stumbled. Fell. Dirt and moss against my face. Tears burned my eyes.
"Please... not like this..." I whispered, clinging to the moonstone.
The shadow loomed, reaching. So close now.
The moonstone glowed—hot beneath my skin, burning like fire and starlight combined.
And then—
SLASH.
The creature screamed. Its arm hit the ground. It recoiled, writhing, vanishing into shadow.
A figure stepped forward—bathed in silver light.
Calm as the moon. Fierce as the flame.
Tall. Cloaked. His hair tousled like midnight. His presence was ancient and divine.
And his eyes—
Amethyst, glowing like distant galaxies.
He said nothing.
He simply looked at me.
As if he'd waited lifetimes to find me again.
And then—
Darkness.
I woke up gasping.
The room was dark. Still.
No wind. No whispers. Only the soft hum of silence.
The kettle sat cold on the counter, untouched. Time hadn't passed—but I had.
My body trembled, sweat cooling on my skin, breath shallow like I'd run miles through fog and fire.
I reached for my chest.
The moonstone was warm. Alive. Pulsing faintly beneath my palm like a second heartbeat.
And those eyes—
Amethyst, eternal, watching me still.
Interlude – Between the Flame and the Shadow. (A Whisper from Lucen)
Far away, beyond the veil of waking, beyond the tangled hush of the Hollow Grove...
Lucen stood alone beneath a sky that remembered her.
The stars above him pulsed with quiet ache, and the trees around him shimmered faintly with residual magic—her magic. The aftershock of her presence lingered in the moss, the air, the starlight itself.
He looked down at his hand—
the one that had struck down the Hollowborn shadow.
His palm still burned where the moonstone's light had met his own.
He closed his eyes.
"She's close."
Not yet awakened. Not yet whole.
But his Aurora had remembered something. Enough to call to him. Enough to pull him through the veil.
And for the first time in an age... he allowed himself to hope.
"Soon," he murmured, voice low and fierce like a promise.
"Soon, my dawn."