Ayana: "Table five, your order's ready!"
The café smelled like burnt coffee and old pastries. Ayana wiped down the counter for the third time that hour. It was almost midnight. Only two customers left—a college student hunched over his laptop and an old woman nursing cold tea.
Her manager, Mr. Kim, poked his head out from the kitchen.
Mr. Kim: "You can close up early tonight. No point staying open."
Ayana: "You sure?"
Mr. Kim: "Yeah, yeah. I'm heading out. Lock up when you're done."
He grabbed his coat and left through the back door.
Ayana sighed, untying her apron. Finally. Her shift had started at 3 PM. Nine hours of fake smiling and pretending to care about latte art.
The college student packed up and left without a word. The old woman followed soon after.
Silence.
Ayana locked the front door and started cleaning up. She was halfway through wiping tables when she heard it.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Someone knocking on the glass door.
She turned around.
A man stood outside. Tall. Pale. Soaking wet from the rain.
Ayana: "Sorry, we're closed!"
She pointed at the sign.
The man didn't move. Just stared at her through the glass.
Something about his eyes made her stomach turn.
Ayana: "I said we're closed!"
Still nothing.
Ayana felt a chill crawl up her spine. She grabbed her phone, ready to call someone.
The man raised one hand.
And pressed his palm against the glass.
Black ash spread across the window from where he touched it. Like ink in water. Spreading. Cracking.
Ayana: "What the—"
The glass shattered.
Not broke. Shattered. Into a million pieces. Exploding inward.
Ayana screamed and dove behind the counter.
Glass rained down everywhere. Crashing. Tinkling. Covering the floor in glittering shards.
Then—silence.
Ayana stayed crouched behind the counter, heart hammering, hands shaking.
What just happened? What the hell just happened?!
Footsteps.
Slow. Deliberate. Crunching over broken glass.
Someone walked into the café.
Voice: "Where is she?"
A man's voice. Low. Rough. Like gravel scraping stone.
Ayana pressed herself against the cabinet, barely breathing.
Don't move. Don't breathe. Don't make a sound.
Voice: "I know you're here."
The footsteps stopped.
Voice: "Ayana."
Her blood ran cold.
He knows my name.
Voice: "Please. Come out."
His voice cracked. Not threatening now. Almost... desperate.
Ayana's hands shook so hard she nearly dropped her phone. Should she call the police? Run for the back door? Hide?
Voice: "I'm not going to hurt you."
A pause.
Voice: "I could never hurt you."
Something in his tone made her chest tighten. Familiar. Painful. Like hearing a song she'd forgotten.
Against every instinct screaming at her to stay hidden, Ayana slowly stood up.
The man stood in the middle of the café. Surrounded by broken glass. Rain dripping from his black coat onto the floor. Dark hair plastered to his forehead. Pale skin. Sharp features.
But his eyes.
They were completely black. No iris. No white. Just endless darkness.
Ayana: "Stay back."
Her voice barely worked.
The man took a step forward.
Ayana: "I said STAY BACK!"
He froze.
Man: "You don't remember me."
It wasn't a question. It was a statement. Heavy with grief.
Ayana: "I don't know you!"
Man: "Yes. You do."
He took another slow step, glass crunching under his shoes.
Man: "Look at me. Really look."
Ayana: "I'm looking at a psycho who just broke into my café—"
Man: "Look at my face."
His voice was firm now. Commanding.
Ayana stared at him. She didn't want to. But something made her look.
Really look.
The shape of his jaw. The way he stood. The way his head tilted slightly when he spoke.
And for a split second—
—a flash of something—
—someone standing in flames—
—reaching for her—
—calling her name—
Ayana grabbed her head, dizzy.
Ayana: "What—what is this—"
Man: "You're starting to remember."
He moved closer.
Ayana: "No—stay away—"
Man: "Five hundred years, Ayana."
Closer.
Man: "I've been asleep for five hundred years."
Ayana: "You're insane—"
Man: "And the only thing I remembered was your face."
He was right in front of her now. Close enough to touch.
Man: "You made a promise."
Ayana: "I don't know what you're talking about!"
Man: "You said you'd wait for me."
His black eyes bore into hers.
Man: "You said you'd find me when I woke up."
Ayana: "That's impossible—I'm twenty-two years old—I wasn't even alive five hundred years ago—"
Man: "Your soul was."
Ayana's breath hitched.
Man: "You don't remember because they made you forget."
Ayana: "Who? Who made me forget?!"
Man: "The ones who sealed me away."
He reached out slowly. His hand trembling.
Man: "Please. Just... let me show you."
His fingers moved toward her face.
Ayana jerked back, hitting the counter.
Ayana: "DON'T TOUCH ME!"
Pain flashed across his face. Real pain. Like she'd stabbed him.
Man: "Ayana—"
Ayana: "My name is Ayana Kim! I work at a café! I live in a crappy apartment with two roommates! I have student loans and I hate my job and I have NEVER met you before!"
Her voice broke.
Ayana: "You're—you're scaring me—"
The man stopped.
His black eyes flickered. Just for a second. Gray. Storm gray.
Then black again.
Man: "I'm scaring you."
He said it like he'd just realized something terrible.
Man: "I'm... I'm sorry."
He stepped back.
Man: "I shouldn't have come here like this. I just—"
He looked around at the destroyed café. The shattered glass. The ash marks on the walls.
Man: "I woke up and I didn't know where I was. Everything was different. The buildings. The lights. The noise. And I—"
His voice cracked.
Man: "I was so lost."
He looked back at her.
Man: "But then I felt you. Your presence. Like a beacon in the dark."
Ayana: "You're not making any sense—"
Man: "I know."
He laughed bitterly.
Man: "I sound insane. Maybe I am."
He turned toward the broken door.
Man: "Forget I was here."
Ayana: "Wait—"
Why did she say that? Why did she want him to stay?
The man paused.
Ayana: "What's your name?"
He looked back at her over his shoulder. Rain blowing through the shattered window. Glass glinting on the floor like stars.
Man: "Kael."
A pause.
Man: "But you used to call me something else."
Ayana: "What?"
His black eyes met hers.
Man: "Ashborn."
The name hit her like a punch.
—ash falling from a burning sky—
—wings made of fire—
—a voice screaming—
Voice in her memory:"ASHBORN, NO!"
Ayana gasped, grabbing her head. The images flashed faster now.
—a sword in her hand—
—tears on her face—
—him kneeling before her—
—"Do it. Please. Before I destroy everything."—
Ayana: "Stop—stop it—"
She collapsed to her knees, clutching her hair, tears streaming down her face.
Ayana: "GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"
Kael: "Ayana!"
He rushed forward—
Everything went white.
—
A hand touched her shoulder.
Warm. Solid. Real.
Voice: "Ayana?"
She gasped, spinning around.
Mr. Kim stood behind her. Concerned. Completely dry.
Mr. Kim: "Are you okay? You've been standing there for ten minutes."
Ayana blinked.
She was standing in the middle of the café.
No broken glass.
No ash marks.
No shattered door.
Everything was normal. Clean. Intact.
Ayana: "I—what—"
She looked around wildly.
The tables were clean. The floor was spotless. The front door was closed and locked. The glass wasn't even cracked.
Mr. Kim: "You look exhausted. Maybe you should head home early."
Ayana: "But—there was—someone was here—"
Mr. Kim: "No one's been here for the last hour. Just you."
Ayana: "No, there was a man—he broke the window—"
Mr. Kim looked at the perfectly intact window.
Mr. Kim: "Ayana. The window's fine."
She stared at it.
Perfectly whole. Not a scratch.
Mr. Kim: "You're overworked. You've been doing double shifts all week. Go home. Get some sleep."
Ayana: "I... I don't understand..."
Mr. Kim: "Stress does weird things to the brain. Trust me."
He patted her shoulder gently.
Mr. Kim: "Go. I'll finish closing up."
Ayana nodded slowly, still dazed.
She grabbed her coat and bag from the back room. Her hands were still shaking.
As she walked to the front door, she glanced back one more time.
Normal. Everything was normal.
Was it all in my head?
She pushed open the door and stepped into the rain.
The street was empty. Dark. Only the yellow glow of streetlights.
She stood there for a moment, rain soaking through her hair.
Then she noticed it.
On the café window.
A handprint.
Made of ash.
Right where he'd touched the glass.
Ayana's breath stopped.
She reached out slowly. Touched the print with trembling fingers.
*It's real. It was all real.*
She turned and started walking home. Fast.
Her apartment was only three blocks away. She could make it in five minutes if she hurried.
The rain was getting heavier now. Cold. Biting.
She pulled her jacket tighter and kept her head down.
One block.
Two blocks.
The streetlights flickered as she passed under them.
*Just tired. Just stress. That's all.*
She turned the corner onto her street.
And stopped.
Every apartment building on the block was dark.
Completely dark.
No lights in any windows. No streetlights. Nothing.
Except hers.
Her building—fourth floor, second window from the left—was glowing.
Bright orange. Like something was burning inside.
**Ayana:** "No... no no no—"
She ran.
Her sneakers splashed through puddles. Her breath came in gasps.
She reached the building entrance and grabbed the door handle.
Locked.
**Ayana:** "Come on!"
She fumbled for her keys. Dropped them. Picked them up.
Finally got the door open.
She ran up the stairs. Fourth floor. Her legs burned.
She reached her apartment door.
It was open.
Just slightly. A crack of orange light spilling out.
**Ayana:** "Maya? Are you home?"
No answer.
She pushed the door open slowly.
The apartment was normal. Dark. Quiet.
No fire. No orange glow.
**Ayana:** "Maya?"
She flipped the light switch.
The lights came on.
Everything was exactly as she'd left it this morning. Dishes in the sink. Maya's shoes by the door. Her textbooks on the coffee table.
Normal.
She walked to the window and looked out.
All the other buildings had lights now too. Normal. Like nothing happened.
**Ayana:** "I'm losing my mind..."
She turned around.
And froze.
On her living room wall.
Written in ash.
One word.
**"Remember."**