Morning light crept through the blinds, but it brought no comfort. Aria sat at the edge of her bed, the red feather lying on her nightstand. Its color was unnerving, too deep and too vivid to belong to any bird she knew. Every time her gaze strayed toward it, her chest tightened.
By noon, she couldn't take it anymore. She slipped the feather into a small plastic bag and tucked it into her purse before heading out.
At the café near campus, her best friend Lena waved her over. "You look like hell," Lena said, sliding a cappuccino across the table. "Didn't sleep?"
Aria shook her head, fumbling with the zipper of her bag. "You won't believe this." She pulled the bag out and set it between them. The feather glowed faintly under the sunlight, its crimson shade unnatural, almost alive.
Lena raised an eyebrow. "Seriously, Aria? You dragged me here for… bird junk?" She poked the bag with a manicured nail. "It's just a feather. Probably from a parrot or something exotic. Big deal."
Aria frowned. "No, it's not. It was left at my door last night. After—" She stopped herself, biting down on her lip. She didn't want to sound paranoid again, not after all the texts, the knocking, the way Lena already dismissed her worries last time.
"After what?" Lena asked, sipping her drink.
"Nothing," Aria muttered, stuffing the bag back into her purse.
But it wasn't nothing.
The feather tugged at something buried in her mind. A memory she had tried to forget. When she was younger, barely old enough to put her dreams into words, she used to have the same nightmare over and over—choking darkness, her body frozen, her voice lost. And always, just before she was swallowed whole, a man would appear. She never saw his face clearly, only the outline of his back as he fought the shadows away.
And the wings. Huge, scarlet wings that stretched out, brighter than fire.
He always told her the same thing: "You're safe. I'll always find you."
Her skin prickled. That was years ago. She had grown out of those dreams—or at least, she thought she had.
"Aria?"
Her head snapped up. And there he was, as if summoned.
Kael.
Leaning casually against the café counter, sunlight striking his sharp features like he was carved from shadow and gold. His eyes found hers instantly, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips.
He walked over, confidence in every step, and slid into the seat opposite hers as if he belonged there.
"You look tired," he said smoothly, ignoring Lena's raised brow. "Rough night?"
Aria stiffened. "What are you doing here?"
"Just getting coffee." His gaze flicked toward her purse before lifting back to her face. Then he tilted his head, studying her with unsettling familiarity. "Still dreaming of feathers?"
Her blood ran cold.
The café noises dulled. Lena was saying something, but Aria couldn't hear it. Her throat tightened as her mind scrambled, searching for answers.
She had never told anyone. Not Lena. Not her parents. Not a single soul.
That dream had belonged to her alone.
So how did Kael know?