Sleep became a stranger.
Aira tossed and turned all night, the memory of Zareth's touch still tingling at her fingertips, the heat of his kiss on her knuckles refusing to fade. His voice echoed in her skull, laced with longing, resentment, and something frighteningly magnetic.
"When you remember what we had, it'll burn everything else."
She sat up abruptly, pushing away the blankets. Her room felt too small. The air, too thick. She needed clarity, not confusion. But clarity had abandoned her the moment two lifetimes began pulling at her heart.
Kael.
Zareth.
Present.
Past.
Was it possible to belong to both?
Footsteps approached outside. She straightened.
Kael entered, his face strained, his lips pressed in a firm line. "I know he was here last night."
Aira didn't pretend. "He came through the balcony."
Kael exhaled slowly, then crossed to her, kneeling before her bed. "Then you know how dangerous this is. You've opened something none of us understand."
"I didn't ask him to come," she said quietly. "But I also… I didn't want him to leave."
The admission hit the air like a spark.
Kael's expression crumbled for a heartbeat. Then his jaw clenched. "And me, Aira? What do you want with me?"
She reached for his hand. Held it tight. "You are my now. You are safe, real, solid. But…"
"But you're drawn to him."
She couldn't lie. "Yes."
Kael didn't let go. He didn't storm out. Instead, he pulled her into his arms and held her against his chest, fiercely, as if trying to anchor her soul.
"Then let me fight for you," he whispered. "Don't let the past steal you away."
She trembled in his arms. "I'm scared I'll lose you."
"You won't," he said, cupping her face. "But I will not stand by while someone from another century reclaims you without a fight."
He kissed her — a kiss full of desperation and promise. And she kissed him back, her fingers tangling in his hair, pressing into him until their breaths turned ragged.
Kael didn't let go until she gasped against his lips.
"You're mine, Aira," he murmured against her throat. "No matter how many lives you've lived."
---
Later that day, the council summoned her.
Sareth stood at the head of the chamber, his expression grave. "The veil between past and present is weakening."
Zareth stood beside him.
Not restrained. Not chained. Invited.
He looked perfectly comfortable, hands clasped behind his back, his presence drawing stares and reverence, as if the room couldn't quite decide whether to fear or worship him.
Aira tried not to meet his eyes. But his smirk tugged at her anyway.
Sareth continued, "We believe the merging of Aira's soul memory and her current existence has begun accelerating unintended phenomena — namely, the manifestation of ancient beings through memory vessels."
"In plain words," Kael said, stepping in, "you're saying she's breaking the laws of time."
"Not just breaking," Sareth said. "Rewriting."
Zareth's gaze shifted to her. "She's not breaking anything. She's remembering. That's what memory does — it brings the truth to light."
"The truth could destroy the weave," Sareth snapped. "And all of us along with it."
Aira's heart thundered.
She'd felt it — the tug, the distortion, each time she stayed too long in a memory. But how could she walk away from it now, when it held not just answers… but love?
Zareth stepped forward.
"I propose a controlled fusion."
Sareth frowned. "Explain."
"I'll guide her through the memories. I know which ones are dangerous. I know what's buried that she doesn't."
"You expect us to let you bond with her further?"
Zareth's gaze slid to Aira. "You don't have a choice."
Kael bristled. "She does."
Zareth turned to her fully, ignoring the others. "Tell me to leave, and I will. You're the one with the power here, Aira. Not them. Not me."
Aira looked between them. Kael, who held her present so gently. Zareth, who pulled her past like a tide. Both men who knew her in different ways — and yet, neither of them fully.
She stepped closer to Zareth.
Kael's breath caught.
"I'll go into the next memory with you," she said quietly. "But under one condition."
Zareth tilted his head. "Anything."
"We come back. Together."
His eyes softened, just a little. "Agreed."
Sareth groaned. "You're all insane."
But the choice had already been made.
---
That night, under the blood moon, Aira stood barefoot at the memory well with Zareth beside her.
He extended his hand.
"Ready to see what they tried to make you forget?"
She hesitated — then took it.
The moment their fingers touched, the world imploded.
She found herself in a grand palace, halls of obsidian and fire, the sky above painted in twilight. Her hair was braided differently. Her clothes were made of layered silk, with sigils she didn't recognize.
And beside her — Zareth. Not as he looked now, but as he once was: a ruler, a warrior, and something more.
A king in exile.
She gasped as a vision flickered before her — her past self, Lirien, pressed against Zareth's throne, his mouth on her neck, his hands roaming her body with reverent hunger.
"I wanted you before the world did," Zareth whispered in her ear in the memory. "Before Eiran, before duty, before fate."
Lirien moaned, pulling him closer. Her voice was breathless.
"Then take me."
The memory swelled with heat — a moment of forbidden passion, tangled limbs, sighs of longing swallowed in shadows. Aira felt every touch, every whisper, as if her body remembered it too.
The present Zareth pulled her away gently before the memory overtook her completely.
Her body still burned with it.
She turned to him. "Why did you show me that?"
"To remind you that before they rewrote your story… we wrote our own."
Aira stumbled back, overwhelmed.
"I need air."
Zareth didn't stop her.
She found herself outside the palace in the dream, heart racing, skin flushed.
Kael's face swam into her thoughts, his voice, his kiss.
Then Zareth's hands, his fire, his claim.
Two kings.
One girl caught between them.
And a curse that had yet to fully awaken.
Aira looked up at the red moon.
And realized she was no longer sure who she truly was — or what choice would save her soul.