The scent of lilacs and fresh morning dew filled the air as Seraphine pushed open the door to her flower shop. "Seren Blooms"was carved delicately on the wooden sign above - named after a name that haunted her in dreams she never spoke of. A name that didn't feel like hers, and yet... belonged to her soul.
Sunlight spilled through the front windows, brushing over rows of tulips, peonies and blood- red roses. Seraphine took a deep breath, grounding herself in the now, though her nights had been far from peaceful.
The full moon had come and gone, but it's memory lingered like bruises on her soul. Another dream - too vivid to be called a dream, too painful to be dismissed. The battlefield, the storm of betrayal, his voice - Serenyth.
Her fingers brushed unconsciously against her collarbone. It ached there sometimes, as if someone once placed a mark, or a kiss, or a promise.
Elara twirled into the flower shop humming softly. Her cropped hoodie hung off one shoulder, a spark of joy in every step.
Seraphine smiled - genuine, but faint, "You're late."
"I'm fashionably five minutes behind, " Elara teased. "You know, most people gets sexy dreams when they are single, " Elara said with a wink. "Yours sound more like a gothic horror romance. "
Seraphine laughed softly, shaking her head. "It doesn't feel like a dream. It feels like a... memory. "
She didn't add how real his voice felt. How her body woke with goosebumps, as if touched. Or how she sometimes cried without understanding why.
The bell above the shop door chimed , pulling her back to the present. A customer. She composed herself.
Time passed slowly.
Evenings at Seren Blooms were quiet.
After Elara left for her part-time photography gig , Seraphine stayed behind, fingers trailing over petals that didn't speak back, arranging bouquets that didn't ask questions. The air always felt heavy at dusk - like the sun,too ,was mourning something unnamed.
She stood behind the counter now, eyes drawn to a single blood-red rose in the vase by the window. It shouldn't have been blooming this early.Yet there it was - vibrant, defiant. Just like the ones in her dream.
"Red again, " She whispered, brushing her thumb across the thornless stem. "Always red. "
As the sky faded to bruised violet, she closed the shutters and reached for the key hanging near the door. Something inside her hesitated. That familiar pull again - like someone, somewhere, was watching.
Waiting.
She shook her head and locked the shop.
Later that night, curled beneath soft blankets, Seraphine stared at the ceiling. The dreams didn't come every night... but the ache always stayed. Her fingers trembled before she even fell asleep.
And when the dream finally claimed her, it didn't bring war this time. It brought a whisper in the dark. A hand over hers. A promise.
"I should've killed you. "
"Then why didn't you? "
"Because I couldn't. Because I burned. "
She woke with tears on her cheeks and her fingers curled like she was still clutching something lost.
Far beneath the mortal world, in a tomb untouched by time, silence reigned.
Then-
A breath.
Faint. Shuddering. But there.
Stone cracked.
The stillness shattered.
Fingers , pale and clawed, twitching against the velvet-lined interior of the sarcophagus. A moment passed before the lid groaned and shifted, ancient magic unraveling like threads in the dark.
His eyes opened - twin flames of crimson.
He sat up slowly, every movement laced with grace and dread. Dust fell from his dark hair, and with one breath, he exhaled centuries of sleep.
And then, he spoke.
Not a curse.
Not a command.
Not a roar of war.
Just a whisper. A name.
"Serenyth."
The name rolled from his tongue like a vow... Or a prayer.
His hand clenched the edge of the tomb, veins dark beneath translucent skin.
"She's back, "he said, voice hoarse but full of dark hunger. "You're back to me, my queen. "
The chamber trembled with the weight of his awakening.
He stood. Taller than memory. Sharper than grief.
The moon above shivered in the sky.