Darkness.
Then—golden light.
Elena floated in a sea of starlight, her body weightless, her thoughts slow and distant. The world around her wasn't real. Not fully. She knew that. But it felt more real than anything she had ever known.
Soft whispers echoed in the void, hundreds of voices murmuring her name, all at once and over and over again.
Elena. Elena. Elenaa.
The names shifted, old and older still, until they bled into a single truth.
She stood now—in a temple made of bone. The air shimmered with power, thick like honey. Before her, a woman stood cloaked in gold, a crown of fire on her head.
Elena took a step forward, drawn by something she couldn't explain. "Who… are you?"
The woman turned.
Elena gasped.
It was her face. Her own face—but older, more regal. Wiser. This wasn't just a dream.
It was a memory.
"You are not the first to carry this soul," the figure said, voice echoing through the stone chamber. "You are the last."
"I don't understand…"
"You will. Soon." The woman—her past self—raised a hand, and the space around them shimmered and broke like glass.
Suddenly they stood in a field of stars, galaxies spinning in the distance.
And there—at the center—stood Dorian.
But not as she knew him.
He wore no cloak, no smirk, no scars. He was radiant, divine. A being of shadow and light woven into one form. His eyes, even then, had looked at her like she was everything.
"He has always been yours," the past-self said. "Bound by the pact you made before time was time. The Hollow Man… the name they gave him after he fell."
Elena's breath caught. "Fell?"
"He chose love over divinity. You over power. And the cost was exile. His curse, his hunger, his shadow—it all began the day he chose you."
"But what about Miles?" Elena asked, heart aching. "Why does it feel like he's a part of me, too?"
The figure paused. "Because he is… the counterweight. The mortal flame. He was meant to guard you, not love you. But the heart does not obey prophecy."
The vision shimmered again.
Now she saw Dorian—kneeling, bleeding, screaming her name into a battlefield littered with fire and death. And she saw herself, dying in his arms. Again and again. Across lifetimes.
"No matter the world," the voice said, fading, "he finds you. You awaken. And the battle begins again."
A cold wind blew across the stars.
A dark shadow crept into view. Massive. Ancient. With no form except eyes—thousands of them, opening all at once.
"He has seen you," the voice whispered urgently."The Devourer wakes."
Elena turned toward the shadow—
And awoke with a scream.
She sat up violently, drenched in sweat, lungs heaving. The ceiling above her was wooden. A cabin. Fire crackled nearby.
Footsteps.
Miles burst through the door, relief flooding his face. "Elena!"
Before she could speak, the door behind him creaked open again.
And Dorian stepped through the shadows.
The dream still echoed in her chest. The throne. The sacrifice. The truth.
She had loved Dorian. Once.She had been protected by Miles. Always.And now, both loved her. In this life.
But the Devourer was coming.
And this time, it wouldn't be just her heart on the line—it would be the world.