The first time Klein Moretti met Yeaia Nolas, he had already forgotten them.
It was a strange feeling—like waking up from a dream that lingered just beyond reach. A name on the tip of the tongue, an image in the mind that dissolved the moment he tried to grasp it.
He knew something had happened.
But whatever it was, it had already slipped through his fingers.
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It started in Tingen, on a quiet evening beneath a sky that refused to settle into night.
Klein had been reading in his rented apartment, absently flipping through notes on the various Beyonder pathways. His mind, however, was elsewhere—drifting in the gray fog, turning over the mysteries of the world like a puzzle with missing pieces.
A knock at the door startled him.
Klein frowned. He wasn't expecting visitors. His landlord never knocked so lightly, and Benson was working late.
Setting down his book, he made his way to the door, hesitating before opening it.
When he did, he saw nothing.
The hallway was empty.
Or rather—it should have been.
Because he could feel someone standing there, just beyond the threshold of his understanding. A presence that did not disturb the air, that did not cast a shadow, but was undeniably watching.
Klein stepped back, fingers twitching slightly as he prepared to summon a ritual.
Then, the presence spoke.
"You always hesitate before opening doors."
The voice was soft, distant, amused. Like a whisper carried through a dream, like words spoken long ago but only reaching him now.
Klein's pulse quickened.
"Who's there?" he asked, keeping his voice level.
There was a pause, and then—a figure stepped into view.
Or perhaps, they had been there all along, simply waiting for him to notice them.
They were draped in loose, shifting fabrics, the colors constantly blurring between formal and casual. Their black and white hair flickered like candlelight, streaked with hints of red that seemed to appear only when one wasn't looking directly at them.
But the strangest thing was their expression.
They looked at Klein with the vague amusement of someone who had already seen this moment play out before.
"Who are you?" Klein demanded.
The figure tilted their head.
"Ah. Finally. I was wondering when you'd notice me."
That wasn't an answer.
Klein narrowed his eyes, reaching for the pendant hidden beneath his shirt. "I'll ask again—who are you?"
The stranger let out a sigh, running a hand through their hair in a way that made their entire presence ripple—as if they were struggling to stay tethered to reality.
"Mm. A passerby. A dream. A mistake. Maybe all three."
Their silver-gray eyes drifted to Klein's books, his notes, the cup of tea left half-finished on the table.
"Or maybe I'm just here to remind you that you're waiting for something that has already passed."
Klein stiffened.
It wasn't what they said—it was the way they said it.
That kind of phrasing, that detached certainty—it was the exact kind of language he used when dealing with beings above the sequence of mortals.
A Seer. A Trickster. A Prophet.
Or something worse.
Klein chose his next words carefully. "Waiting for what?"
The stranger smiled.
"That's the question, isn't it?"
Then, before Klein could react—before he could so much as blink—
They were gone.
Not vanished. Not teleported.
Just… forgotten.
Klein stumbled, gripping the edge of his desk as a wave of disorientation hit him. He struggled to hold onto the conversation, but the details were slipping, unraveling like a dream dissolving upon waking.
A moment ago, someone had been standing there.
But now—
Now, there was nothing.
He wasn't sure why he felt uneasy.
All he knew was that something was missing.
Something important.
Something that had already slipped away.
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End of Chapter 1
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