Days passed peacefully within the hidden city.
Too peacefully.
Lothan didn't trust it.
His entire life had taught him that peace never lasted forever.
Yet despite his caution, he found himself slowly adjusting to life among the surviving demons.
And to Aria.
Especially Aria.
It started with small things.
Conversations that lasted longer than intended.
Walks through the underground city.
Quiet moments spent watching the artificial stars above.
Nothing unusual.
Nothing significant.
At least, that was what Lothan kept telling himself.
Unfortunately, his heart seemed determined to disagree.
One afternoon, Lothan sat alone in the city's library.
Ancient books surrounded him.
Most were records recovered from the ruins of forgotten kingdoms.
Normally he enjoyed the silence.
Today, however—
"Lothan!"
The doors burst open.
Silence died instantly.
Lothan didn't even need to look up.
Aria.
Only Aria entered rooms like she was declaring war.
She marched toward him carrying several books.
Then dropped them directly onto the table.
The impact echoed throughout the library.
Several scholars glared at her.
She smiled apologetically.
Then ignored them.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Reading."
"Exciting."
"It is."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
The argument continued for several minutes.
A nearby librarian eventually threw a book at both of them.
Neither saw it coming.
The book struck Lothan.
Everyone froze.
The librarian turned pale.
Aria nearly fell out of her chair laughing.
For the first time in centuries, Lothan genuinely looked offended.
Later that evening, they walked through one of the quieter sections of the city.
The streets glowed softly beneath magical lanterns.
The atmosphere felt calm.
Comfortable.
Aria walked beside him.
Not ahead.
Not behind.
Beside him.
For some reason, Lothan liked that.
The realization annoyed him.
"You've been quiet."
Aria glanced toward him.
"So have you."
"I usually am."
"That's fair."
Silence followed.
Yet neither felt uncomfortable.
Eventually Aria spoke again.
"Can I ask something?"
"You usually do."
She rolled her eyes.
"Do you ever think about the future?"
The question surprised him.
Future.
It wasn't a word he used often.
Not after losing a thousand years.
Not after losing everything.
"The future is uncertain."
"That's not an answer."
Lothan sighed.
"No."
Aria looked curious.
"Why?"
For a moment he struggled to answer.
Then he spoke honestly.
"Because everyone I imagined in my future disappeared long ago."
The words hung heavily between them.
Aria's smile faded.
Without thinking, she gently touched his hand.
The contact lasted only a second.
Yet it felt strangely significant.
Both immediately noticed.
Neither pulled away.
Neither spoke.
For a brief moment, the world seemed quieter.
Smaller.
Closer.
Then—
Pain.
A sharp burning sensation spread through Lothan's chest.
The curse.
He immediately withdrew his hand.
The pain vanished.
Aria blinked.
Confusion flashed across her face.
"Did I do something wrong?"
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
Too defensively.
Aria looked unconvinced.
Lothan looked away.
For the first time, he feared the curse.
Not because of what it could do to him.
But because of what it might do to her.
That night, sleep refused to come.
Lothan wandered the city's highest balcony.
His thoughts drifted endlessly.
Toward Aria.
Toward the curse.
Toward the past.
And eventually...
Toward her.
Lysandra.
The name echoed through his mind.
The mysterious woman from his dreams.
The woman who had appeared before the Great War.
The woman who somehow knew things she shouldn't.
The woman he could never forget.
A cool breeze passed through the cavern.
Then suddenly—
A voice.
Soft.
Familiar.
"Lothan."
His eyes widened.
He turned instantly.
Nobody stood there.
The balcony was empty.
Silent.
Yet he knew what he heard.
"Lysandra?"
Nothing answered.
Only silence.
But the voice had been real.
He was certain of it.
For a moment he considered the possibility that he was imagining things.
Then something caught his attention.
A silver feather rested upon the stone railing.
Lothan froze.
Slowly, he picked it up.
The feather glowed faintly.
Ancient energy lingered within it.
Energy he recognized immediately.
His heart skipped a beat.
Impossible.
No one else should possess that energy.
No one.
Not unless—
"Lysandra..."
The name escaped as a whisper.
Could she truly be alive?
After a thousand years?
After the war?
After everything?
Logic said no.
His instincts said otherwise.
And for the first time since awakening, he found himself hoping.
Elsewhere, far beyond the hidden city...
A hidden sanctuary stood among the clouds.
Ancient barriers concealed it from the world below.
Within a garden of silver flowers, a woman sat quietly beneath a tree.
Long silver hair danced in the wind.
Golden eyes reflected the moonlight.
In her hands rested a crystal mirror.
Within its surface appeared the image of Lothan standing alone on the balcony.
Watching the night.
Thinking of her.
A gentle smile appeared on the woman's face.
"You finally found the feather."
Her voice carried warmth.
And sadness.
Beside her stood an elderly servant.
"My Lady Lysandra."
The woman looked toward the stars.
"He's changed."
"A thousand years tends to do that."
A soft laugh escaped her lips.
Then her expression became serious.
"The time is approaching."
The servant nodded.
"The seals are weakening."
"And so are the lies."
Lysandra's gaze returned to the image within the mirror.
To Lothan.
To the man who still didn't remember everything.
To the man who still didn't know the truth about the Great War.
Or about her.
"Just a little longer."
The mirror shimmered.
Her fingers gently touched its surface.
And somewhere deep within her heart, a feeling she had buried for a thousand years began to awaken once more.
To be continued...