Chapter 3 — Ghosts in the Fog
The café on 12th Street smelled like burnt sugar and old regrets.
Liam Carter stirred his coffee slowly, eyes drifting to the window where the rain fell in whispers. People passed outside, umbrellas like ghosts, feet never touching the ground. But he wasn't watching them.
He was watching her.
Elara.
She sat two tables away, her hood down, hair still damp. She hadn't noticed him yet.
Or maybe she had.
There was something familiar about her — not in appearance, but in the way she looked at the world. As if waiting for something to break.
He felt it too.
The ring hums when she's near.
He didn't know why that mattered, but it did.
Elara wasn't stupid. She knew someone was following her — the same man from the alley. Now he was watching her from across the room, pretending to drink coffee.
But something felt… different.
Not dangerous. Not safe. Just tied.
Like fate had wrapped a string around her throat and his wrist.
She stood up.
He did too.
They didn't speak until they were outside, under the dripping gray sky.
"Who are you?" she demanded.
"Someone who's trying to understand why a stranger keeps showing up in my dreams."
That stopped her cold.
She looked into his eyes, and something cracked.
"You dream too?"
He nodded.
"Always fire. And someone screaming a name I don't remember."
"Mine," she whispered.
In the shadows above the café, Damien crouched like a vulture.
The girl. The boy. The rings.
All exactly where Aria said they'd be.
He flexed his fingers. The veins glowed black beneath his skin.
"Not yet," came Aria's voice through the ring in his ear.
"Let them trust. Let them hope. That's when it tastes best."
Later that night, Liam stood on his apartment balcony, staring out at the rain-choked city.
Elara's words still rang in his mind.
"I didn't choose the ring. It chose me."
He turned his hand over, letting the silver band catch the stormlight.
"Then why did it choose me?"
Behind him, the shadows of the room thickened.
And something moved.