Liam sat alone at the edge of the obsidian garden, fingers tracing the hilt of a blade he didn't remember forging.
He frowned.
That scent again.
Faint.Like lavender in smoke.Familiar… but untouchable.
He turned—slowly. A flicker of silk danced behind the stone pillars.
A woman.
She bowed slightly when he looked her way. Her eyes shimmered—but not with fear.
With… heartbreak.
"Can I help you?" he asked politely.
She smiled. That same strange, aching smile he had seen for days.
"No," she replied softly. "You already did."
It was happening more often now—these echoes.
Moments that didn't belong.
Dreams of fire and snowfall.Laughter echoing down a corridor he didn't remember walking.A woman's hand holding his in the dark.
He didn't understand.But something inside him was tugging.
A whisper in the blood.A name on the tip of his soul.
Every time he looked at her—the Queen—his chest tightened like it had forgotten how to breathe.
He didn't know why.
