The scent of roses and lilies lingered in the air.
Soft sunlight filtered through the glass windows, casting golden glow on the wooden floor. The world outside was calm but within the tiny flower shop nestled on a quiet street corner , a girl sat upright - breathing heavily, eyes wide with something far deeper than fear.
"Agh... that dream again. "
Seraphine clutched the sheets , her chest rising and falling. Her skin glistened with cold sweat, strands of hair sticking to her forehead. For a moment, she didn't know where she was. Her hand flew to her throat - as if expecting blood, a chain, or worse... a promise.
But there was nothing.
Just silence and the smell of flowers.
Every full moon, the same dream returned.
A battlefield.
Betrayal.
Fangs.
And him.
She had never seen his face clearly - only fragments, shadows, but tonight... tonight was different. She remembered the crimson of his eyes. Red roses tattooed on his neck. The way he said her name. The chill of his hands touching her just before everything vanishes into the light.
But the sensation remained.
Like fangs brushing skin.
Like a voice, dark and velvet smooth, whispering her name not as Seraphine... but -
"Serenyth... "
The name echoed again in her bones.
Her hand lifted to her neck. It still burned.
Not with fear.
But something deeper. Something worse.
She hated how her body yearned for a ghost she had never met. A phantom lover.
Was it even real?
She didn't remember his name. Only that he called her Serenyth. Only that he felt like something she lost long ago.
A knock sounded on her door, pulling her out of the spiral.
"Seraphine! Open up already! You'll be late! "
She blinked, the familiar voice of her best friend grounding her in this time, this place. She was Seraphine. A florist. An orphan. She didn't have a kingdom, or a throne, or a man who -
No. She didn't.
But her heart whispered otherwise.
She opened her door, "Morning, dream queen! "
A girl with pink dyed hair and a coffee cup in each hand stood - Elara, her best friend and sole thread to sanity these days.
"Let me guess. That dream again? "
Seraphine nodded slowly, "More intense this time. I could feel him. I could feel his touch. "
Elara raised a brow, setting the coffee down. "Him, huh? Damn, if your mystery vampire dream guy doesn't show up soon, I might just drag you to a psychic. "
Seraphine laughed, but it didn't reach her eyes.
Because no psychic could explain why she woke up yearning for someone who didn't exist in this life.... Or why a moment, she swore she saw fangs in the mirror.
She picked up her coffee, "Do you think it's possible to miss someone you've never met? "
Elara leaned forward, "Maybe. Or maybe some part of you has. "
And Seraphine couldn't help but wonder - what if she had?
Why did she mourned a man she had never met ... Or a war she never fought?
What if he wasn't just a dream?