The night wind swept over the silent towers of the forgotten castle.
The crows were asleep.
The walls, however, still whispered the screams of an ancient time.
In the hall of shadows, Wilfred opened his eyes.
His breath was uneven.
A strange warmth had surged through his chest…
A warmth he believed long dead.
He sat up slowly, as if torn from a dream too real.
His gloved hands trembled.
> "Aria…"
The name slipped from his lips—a hoarse, broken whisper.
He rose abruptly, crossing the stone chamber, his heavy footsteps echoing through the silence like the beat of a heart come back to life.
---
He stopped before an old mirror, dulled by centuries.
His reflection, pale and distant, barely flickered in the glass.
He placed his hand against it.
— "Why… why this dream?" he murmured.
> "She touched me…"
"She embraced me… as if I were still human."
A shiver ran down his spine.
No one—since the curse.
No one had dared come close to him like that.
And even less… to hold him.
---
He lowered his head, eyes closed, and Aria's words echoed within him:
> "Wait… Don't go."
"Who are you really?"
And his own confession...
> "Wilfred… Liam Wilfred."
Never, in five centuries, had he spoken his name that way.
Like an offering.
Like a confession.
He clenched his jaw, trying to smother the trembling rising inside.
But deep within, he knew.
That dream was no mere figment of sleep.
It was a thread.
An echo.
And for the first time in centuries… he no longer felt entirely alone.
---
He turned and looked out through the tall open windows toward the quiet valley.
There, in the heart of the village, Aria slept unknowingly, her heart restless, the shadow's name still on her lips.
Wilfred placed a black rose on the ledge.
— "You're dangerous, Aria," he whispered.
— "You could break my chains… or replace them with new ones."
Then, he vanished into the wind.