Liora's pov
I didn't sleep that night. My dreams once my only connection to him had vanished, replaced by a silence that pressed against my ears. Every time I closed my eyes, I imagined his storm-gray gaze, the way he tilted his head as if trying to remember something just out of reach. My chest ached in a way I couldn't explain.
By morning, the town square seemed impossibly quiet. Even the fountain, usually full of tourists and children, shimmered with a strange calm, reflecting the pale sun. I pulled my jacket tighter around me and walked toward it anyway. I had to see if he would be there. I had to know if he was real.
He wasn't.
My heart sank. Part of me had known this might happen. Dreams had a way of deceiving me, luring me into places that didn't exist. But another part of me refused to accept it. He had been real. He had to be.
I lingered by the fountain, twisting my hands in the straps of my backpack. That's when I noticed something I hadn't seen before: a small folded note, tucked under one of the fountain's stones. My name was written across it in careful, looping handwriting.
Meet me at the old library after school. Don't tell anyone.
I froze. My pulse raced, and a shiver ran down my spine. The old library was abandoned or at least that's what the town liked to say. Dust covered the windows, and the doors creaked like the building itself was warning visitors to stay away.
I spent the entire day in class, my mind bouncing between curiosity and caution. Every lecture, every word from my teachers felt like background noise. I kept thinking about him. What does he want from me? How does he know my name?
Finally, the last bell rang. I grabbed my bag and slipped out, my heart hammering with each step toward the library. The streets were empty in the late afternoon, the sun hanging low and golden. Shadows stretched across the cobblestones, twisting and curling like they had lives of their own.
When I reached the library, the doors groaned as I pushed them open. Dust motes danced in the shafts of light pouring through cracked windows. I took a deep breath and stepped inside.
He was there. Of course he was.
He stood near the back of the main hall, half-hidden behind a tall bookshelf. His storm-gray eyes found me immediately, and for a moment, I thought I might actually float off the floor. He looked… different here, somehow sharper, more intense, as if the walls themselves had amplified the energy around him.
"You came," he said, his voice low but steady.
"I… I got your note," I said, my words faltering.
He nodded, taking a step closer. "Good. There's not much time. You're not supposed to see me not yet."
I frowned. "What do you mean, not yet? Who are you? How do you know me?"
His expression flickered with something I couldn't read fear? Regret? "I'm… someone you were meant to forget. But I can't let that happen not yet."
I took a cautious step forward. "Forget what?"
Before he could answer, a sudden noise echoed through the library metal scraping across stone. Both of us froze. My heart slammed in my chest. Someone else was here.
He glanced at me, eyes wide. "You shouldn't be here," he whispered.
I wanted to argue, wanted to demand answers, but the fear rooting me to the floor was stronger than my voice. Shadows moved along the walls, and I realized we were not alone.
"Who's there?" I called, trying to keep my voice steady.
No answer. Only silence. And then a whisper.
"Liora…"
My stomach turned. That voice. It wasn't his, but it knew me.
He grabbed my hand, his grip firm, grounding me. "Stay behind me," he said. "Whatever comes, don't let go."
I swallowed hard, my pulse spiking as the shadows shifted. The sunlight streaming through the broken windows couldn't reach the corners of the room, and I felt something ancient and dangerous pressing in.
And yet, even in the midst of fear, I felt it the pull toward him. Something in my chest tightened, a mixture of longing and trust I didn't understand. I wanted to know everything about him, even if it meant risking my own safety.
He stepped forward, and I followed, heart in my throat. Whatever secrets the library held, whatever danger waited, I was drawn to him. Drawn to the storm-gray eyes that haunted my dreams.
And somehow, I knew this was only the beginning.