The afternoon sun filtered through the tall trees as Elena pinned another drawing onto the twine that hung between two wooden posts in the park. It was a scene of mountains and rice fields, drawn with bright crayon strokes by a boy named Milo. His mother had said he barely spoke at home, but when given a paintbrush or crayon, his imagination flowed like a river.
Elena smiled, stepping back to admire the ever-growing collection of artworks. The children had poured their hearts into each piece, and the park had slowly transformed into a whimsical open-air gallery.
Just then, she heard footsteps approaching on the gravel path. When she turned, she saw a tall man in a smart but casual blazer approaching. He had a calm, almost magnetic presence. Elena's eyes widened slightly when she realized who it was.
"Hi," he said, offering a warm, respectful smile. "I'm Nathan. I work as the regional manager at the new corporate tower downtown."
Elena wiped her hands on her skirt and nodded politely. "Oh... Hello. I'm Elena. These are the kids' works from the public school. And by the way, I think you met you at a conference in our university before!"
Nathan looked a bit surprised that Elena remembered him. He glanced at the vibrant array of drawings and paintings fluttering gently in the breeze. "Thank you for reminding me of that. And yes, these kids' artworks look incredible. It's refreshing to see something this pure and expressive. I actually had an idea, and I was hoping to talk to you about it."
Curious, Elena tilted her head. "Sure. What is it?"
"We have a small gallery hall at the tower," Nathan explained. "We usually use it for exhibitions, small events, and cultural nights. I was wondering if you'd be interested in showcasing these artworks there. We'd cover all the costs — you just bring the pieces and the stories behind them."
Elena blinked. "You mean... like a real gallery show?"
"Exactly," Nathan nodded. "It would be a wonderful way to highlight the children's creativity. And perhaps even help raise funds for school supplies."
Elena could hardly believe what she was hearing. Her heart thudded with excitement. "Oh wow. That would be amazing. I'll have to talk to the local teachers and parents, but I'm sure everyone would be thrilled."
"Take your time," Nathan said, his voice gentle. "Let me know if you need any help. Here's my card."
He handed her a simple, matte-finished business card. Their hands brushed briefly. Something electric passed between them — not romance, not yet. But recognition. As though they had known each other before in a different time.
Elena looked up at him, caught in the strange comfort of his gaze. "Thank you, Nathan. Really."
He nodded. "It's an honor."
That night, Elena couldn't stop thinking about how serendipitous it all felt. A few months ago, she was lost and broken, isolated in her childhood home. And now, she is being given opportunities to uplift others, to inspire children, to create something new.
She walked up the hill under the cover of night, returning once more to the old village healer's cottage. The stars glittered above like distant lanterns.
Inside, the old woman was already waiting, sipping herbal tea.
"I see something shifted," she said with a twinkle in her eye.
Elena chuckled softly. "I met someone today. A man named Nathan. He offered to help us with an art exhibit for the children."
The old woman nodded knowingly. "The currents are aligning. You are getting closer to your persons of destiny."
Elena hesitated. "Persons? Plural?"
The healer stood and walked to a cabinet Elena had never seen opened before. From it, she pulled out a tall, ornate mirror covered in a deep indigo cloth.
"It is time," she said, motioning for Elena to come closer. "Look into your reflection. But not with your eyes. With your energy."
Elena stepped before the mirror. The frame was carved with strange symbols, some glowing faintly in the candlelight. The healer removed the cloth slowly, revealing a perfectly polished surface.
"Breathe," the old woman instructed. "Breathe and remember who you are."
Elena focused. At first, all she saw was her own tired but serene face. But as she softened her gaze, the edges of her body began to shimmer. Faint traces of color started to emerge around her shoulders, her chest, her arms.
Colors.
Not just one — but many. Blues, greens, golds, and even streaks of violet and red. A full spectrum surrounded her in subtle waves, like a living, breathing light.
"What is this?" she whispered.
"Your aura," the healer said softly. "You are rainbow-hearted. That is very rare."
Elena struggled to hold the vision, and after a few moments, the colors faded.
The old woman stepped closer, placing a hand on Elena's shoulder. "This is why you have always felt so different. So targeted. Your light disturbs the systems that thrive in shadows."
Elena swallowed. "You mentioned a prophecy. Something about me and my sister?"
The healer nodded. "Long ago, it was said that two sisters would be born under opposite moons. One would remember the codes of harmony. The other, the codes of disruption. Together, they would either rebuild the world or be destroyed by it."
Elena felt a chill crawl up her spine.
"You mean... this is real? It's not just symbolic?"
"Very real," the healer said. "And now, timelines are shifting. You must stay awake. Things will begin accelerating. People you've forgotten will return. Truths will rise. And not all of it will be pleasant."
Elena stood in silence for a moment, digesting the magnitude of the healer's words.
Then she spoke, her voice clear. "I want to remember. I want to help rebuild."
The old woman smiled faintly. "Then stay close to your heart. And to those whose presence strengthens your light."
Elena descended the hill under a moonlit sky. The wind was crisp, but carried the fragrance of blooming night jasmine. Her footsteps felt grounded, her heart more open than ever.
She thought about the children, the artwork, the exhibit — and Nathan.
Even though she had suffered greatly, even though she had fallen into darkness so young, it now felt like those cracks in her spirit were allowing light to flood in.
Maybe everything she endured was not just punishment.
Maybe it was preparation.
And maybe — just maybe — this was only the beginning.