The night was too still.
Even with the hum of the city far below, the Vale mansion felt suspended like the air held its breath around her.
Seraphina lay in the massive bed, but sleep didn't come. Her magic pulsed beneath her skin, not yet whole but restless. Like a bird testing the edges of its cage.
She sat up, tossed the silk covers aside, and crossed to the wardrobe. She wasn't sure what she was looking for just a whisper in her blood that something was waiting.
Celeste's belongings were orderly. Predictable. Too predictable. A perfect facade of a perfect daughter. Seraphina rifled through drawers, past designer scarves and pearl dotted gloves. Her hand stopped on the edge of a flat, velvet covered box tucked behind a stack of cashmere.
She pulled it out.
It wasn't locked.
Inside, instead of jewelry or heirlooms, there was a single envelope.
No name on it. No seal. Just paper aged at the edges, yellowing slightly like it had been hidden for years.
Her fingers tingled as she lifted it.
She unfolded the letter slowly. It was written in looping, elegant handwriting. Familiar.
Too familiar.
It was hers.
Not Celeste's.
Hers.
To the one who wakes in fire
You won't remember everything at first. That's by design. But trust this you died, and now you are borrowed breath. Time has looped. Magic has opened a door. The stars have aligned, once. Maybe for the last time.
He will try to control you. He always does. But he does not know who you are now.
Lucien Vale is the key. And the knife.
Remember the name that was lost. Remember what he stole.
Do not fall for him again.
Burn it all if you must. But survive this time.
— S.B.
The ink was smudged in places, as if written in haste. Or grief.
Seraphina stared at the signature.
S.B.
Her initials.
But she'd never written this letter.
How could she have?
Unless…
Unless this wasn't just reincarnation.
Unless this was a cycle.
A curse.
She didn't hear the door creak open behind her until it was too late.
"Can't sleep?"
Lucien's voice. Smooth as velvet, Dangerous as a loaded gun.
Seraphina folded the letter behind her back in one fluid movement and turned, expression calm.
"I couldn't rest. This house makes strange sounds."
He stepped into the room. Shirt sleeves rolled to his forearms. No jacket. No tie.
Unarmed, but never vulnerable.
"Old buildings," he said. "They remember things."
So do I, she thought.
But she smiled. "So do people."
Lucien tilted his head, watching her too carefully. His eyes flicked to the box she hadn't quite pushed back into place.
Too late to hide it now.
"I didn't take you for sentimental," he said.
Seraphina's heart beat once hard.
"Neither did I," she said smoothly. "But grief does strange things to a girl, doesn't it?"
Lucien didn't move, but the tension in the air shifted.
"I hope you're not keeping secrets, Celeste."
"Would it matter if I were?"
A long pause.
Then he smiled. Almost.
"No," he said. "It wouldn't."
He left without another word.
The moment the door shut behind him, Seraphina let out the breath she'd been holding.
The letter trembled in her hand.
Lucien Vale was the key.
And the knife.
And somehow, in another life… she'd fallen for him.
Or maybe, just maybe… she still was.
—————
Lucien Vale didn't dream. Not in the way most people did. His mind was a fortress, compartmentalized, fortified by years of control, of cold discipline. But tonight, something slipped through the cracks.
At first, there was only smoke. Thick, black. Curling through the night air like a warning. Then the sound of footsteps, not hurried, not panicked. Bare feet on stone.
Then her voice. Soft, Low, Like honey steeped in sorrow.
"Don't look away from me this time."
Lucien turned. In the dream, he wasn't in the mansion. He was somewhere older. ancient stone beneath his feet, the scent of ash in the air. A ruined courtyard.
And there she stood. Not Celeste. Not exactly.
But the woman had her face. Her eyes . darker, sharper. Her hair, longer, wild. Dressed in a gown of deep red, scorched at the edges. And she was looking at him like she knew him, like she'd loved him and like he'd betrayed her.
Lucien staggered back a step. "Who?"
Her hand reached for him, palm glowing faintly. A flicker of flame danced across her fingertips.
"It wasn't supposed to end like that. You knew the cost. You knew what they'd do."
His heart pounded.
He knew this place. He didn't know how, but he knew it.
"I trusted you, Lucien."
"You let them burn me."
The flames surged behind her like a memory, like punishment. Lucien tried to speak, but the dream was unraveling. The fire rose, blinding, deafening. And then, He woke.
His breath came fast. Cold sweat clung to his back. The room was dark. Still. But something was wrong.
He got out of bed, crossed to the window overlooking the city skyline, and stared at his own reflection in the glass. That wasn't just a dream, He could still feel her. The woman with Celeste's face… and someone else's soul.
His hand shook slightly , the first time in years. And in his mind, he heard her voice again:
"Don't look away from me this time."
He wasn't sure if it was a warning… or a plea.