Morning didn't come quietly that day.
It arrived like a storm — sunlight slicing through half-drawn curtains, birds scattering across the grey sky, and Aarohi waking with her heart pounding.
The dream had been different this time.Clearer.
There had been a temple — ancient, buried in mist — and she was running through it barefoot, chasing a voice that called her name.When she reached the altar, she saw him.Arin.
Not as the shadow she knew now, but as a man bathed in gold light — armor glinting, blood on his hands, eyes still black but full of life.
And then — fire.The temple collapsed.The voice screaming her name turned into her own.
Aarohi sat up, drenched in sweat, clutching her chest as if the pain was still real.Her fingers brushed the black feather beside her bed. It pulsed faintly with warmth, as if it had a heartbeat.
She picked up her phone. No new messages. No missed calls. Just the quiet hum of the city.
But her laptop screen glowed by itself — open to a photo she didn't remember taking.
A wall.Covered in carvings.Symbols she'd never seen before — but somehow recognized.
Later That Day
Aarohi spent the afternoon researching.Old temples. Forgotten symbols. Lost languages.
Nothing matched — until she stumbled on a small online forum about "reincarnation myths of the forgotten age."One picture made her freeze.
The same carving from her photo.Below it, a caption in faded script:
"The Binding of the Black-Eyed Guardian and the Mortal Flame."
She clicked on it.
The text was fragmented, ancient.It spoke of a warrior of darkness, created to protect a divine soul of light — a woman cursed to be reborn again and again, forgetting him every time she died.
Aarohi's hands shook as she read.There was a drawing below the text.
The woman looked like her.Exactly like her.
Rhea Calls
Her phone rang suddenly. Rhea's name flashed.
"Aarohi, where are you?"
"In my apartment. Why?"
"You're scaring me, that's why. You weren't at work. You didn't reply to any texts. And—"
Rhea stopped. Aarohi frowned. "And what?"
"I saw something weird."
"What do you mean?"
Rhea hesitated, then whispered, "There was a guy outside your building last night. Tall. Dark coat. I swear he was staring at your window."
Aarohi's blood ran cold."Did you see his face?"
"No… it was too dark. But, Aaru… when I looked again, he was gone."
Aarohi's voice trembled. "Don't tell anyone about this, okay?"
"What's going on?"
"Nothing. Just… please, trust me."
Rhea sighed. "Fine. But promise me you'll take care of yourself."
"I will," Aarohi lied softly, ending the call.
The Voice Returns
Night came early.The red tint of the moon still hung in the sky, painting her room in shades of blood and silver.
Aarohi stood before the mirror, staring at her reflection — but her reflection didn't move.
Her breath hitched.The reflection tilted its head slightly… and smiled.
"You're close," it whispered — Arin's voice, low and calm."The memories are waking."
Aarohi's voice cracked. "What am I supposed to remember?"
The reflection's smile faded.
"Who you were… and what you did to me."
The glass shimmered, rippled — and suddenly, she was no longer looking at her apartment.
Instead, she saw flames again.A battlefield.Her own hands — covered in fire, destroying everything.
Arin kneeling before her, wounded.His voice pleading.
"You don't understand… if you kill me, the world will burn."
And her own voice, broken:
"Then let it burn with us."
The vision shattered.Aarohi fell to the floor, gasping. Her mirror cracked from top to bottom.
When she looked up, only one thing remained clear in the fractured glass —Arin's black eyes staring back at her.