"Memories are cruel. They wait patiently until you're weakest, and then they come screaming back like fire."
The Funeral
The rain hadn't stopped in two days.
Meher stood silently in black, her face blank. Kiaan's body lay wrapped in white, lips cold, his fingers still curled like they were holding on.
People whispered.
"A tragic accident.""Poor rich boy.""She barely knew him…"
But she knew.She just didn't know how.
Her eyes stung, but no tears came.
Until the priest asked,"Anyone want to say a few words?"
Meher stepped forward, trembling.
Her mouth opened.
And a name she didn't recognize spilled out:
"Kael..."
She collapsed.
The Storm Within
That night, sleep didn't come. Her mind was a battlefield of half-dreams and impossible memories.
—She was running barefoot in a meadow.—She was screaming in flames.—A sword was in her hand. Blood on her dress.—A baby crying.—A king's voice: "I'll come back for you."
Her pillow was soaked with tears by dawn.
Then she saw it: a burn mark on her wrist. Shaped like a blooming flower.She had it since childhood.But now—it pulsed. Warm. Alive.
She heard whispers in her head:
"Lyra… you have awakened."
The Journal
Meher ran to Kiaan's apartment.
His landlord tried to stop her—she shoved him aside. Her heart was screaming, her veins ice and fire. She searched his room desperately, something guiding her hand like instinct.
There it was.A leather-bound notebook under his pillow.
Inside:Dozens of sketches. Of her. From every angle. As if he'd watched her all her life.
A drawing of a burning village.A throne room in ruins.A baby inside a flower.
"She was pregnant. They burned her anyway.""I've died once. I will die twice more. But I'll find her.""They are watching. They'll erase her memories. I must reach her before they do."
Tears streamed down Meher's face.It was real.
All of it.
The Full Memory
She returned to Rajgarh Fort, alone.
The sun was setting. The wind was cold.
She stood at the exact spot he died. She knelt. And she whispered:
"If I really was Lyra… show me."
A gust of wind hit her chest.
Suddenly—her mind cracked open like a dam.
The memories flooded in.
The first kiss beneath the willow.The betrayal.The fire. Her swollen belly.Kael fighting like a demon, screaming her name.His body covered in arrows. Her baby's soul drifting into the wind.His promise: "I will find you. In every life."
Meher screamed.
But it was not the scream of pain.
It was war.
The Transformation
Over the next week, Meher stopped being Meher.
She dyed her hair dark. Stopped attending lectures. Trained in secret—kickboxing, krav maga, anything that felt like war. Her body ached. She didn't care.
She visited monks in Himachal rumored to know reincarnation science. She found ruins linked to Velundor's bloodline in Rajasthan. She dug up more information on the Order of the Shroud Flame.
She traced their real-world front to an NGO.
She even found the name of the woman leading the Mumbai branch: Priya Vareth.Vareth.
Same name as the man who killed Kael.
"I'm coming for you," Meher whispered into the night.
The Final Sign
One night, while meditating at a ruined temple, a woman in white approached her.
Blind. Wrinkled. But glowing.
"You've remembered," the woman said. "You are the Wildflower Queen. The unborn child you lost was marked for the Soul War. The Order will hunt its essence. You must protect it."
Meher froze. "What do you mean? Kiaan is dead."
The woman smiled softly. "But the child's soul is not."
Meher clutched her stomach.
"Then I have to bring Kiaan back. And protect our child's soul."
End of Chapter Three