Chapter 2 The Memory Beneath Her Skin

Aria woke up tangled in her sheets, sweat slicking her skin, heart thumping so loud it might've shaken the bed. For a minute, she just lay there, eyes wide, halfway between dream and waking-like she wasn't sure which side she wanted to land on. That dream... it wasn't fading. It stuck to her, sticky and sweet, like honey that turned to tar. No, not just a dream. More like a haunting.

Her thighs-yeah, they were wet, and her whole body was a livewire. Not just turned on, not really. Like something was pulling at her from the inside, a hunger born before words. She couldn't name it. Maybe she didn't want to. It was older than her, older than the damn moon hanging outside her window. It scared her-no, it rattled her down to the bones.

She forced herself upright, brushing hair out of her eyes. Sunlight was cutting through the curtains, throwing gold stripes across her bare skin. Ordinary morning stuff, except she felt like she'd been caught in a storm.

Her hand drifted up to her collarbone, like maybe she could steady herself with just a touch. But then-her fingers froze. Right there, under the skin, was a mark, faint but glowing. A circle, perfect, sliced by a crescent that looked like a claw had raked it. She stared, blinking, like if she just looked long enough it'd vanish. Spoiler: it didn't. She'd have noticed something like that yesterday. She wasn't losing her mind. Well, maybe she was. But not that way.

She scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over the sheets, and planted herself in front of the mirror. The mark looked even stranger now, almost beautiful-if you liked the kind of beauty that came with a knife. Magic, no question. Or a curse. Or both. It looked like a brand, and she knew enough stories to guess what that meant.

His.

She nearly laughed, ugly and bitter, and grabbed a wet cloth. Scrubbed at the mark like she could erase it from her skin, from her memory. But it wouldn't budge. If anything, it glowed brighter, pulsing with her heartbeat-warm, alive, like something was waking up inside her.

Then it hit her. Not a dream. Not just a nightmare. More like... a rerun of a life she'd already lived.

---

Suddenly she was somewhere else. A stone temple, red robe pooling around her bare feet, firelight flickering over ancient walls. Kael was there. The Beast. Not quite human: too much muscle, too much shadow, eyes too bright. He looked younger, angrier, more... wild. Like something half-tamed, or maybe just tired of pretending.

She was shaking, but it wasn't fear. It was love. Or betrayal. Or both-because in dreams, those things got tangled up and you couldn't tell where one ended and the other started.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Her voice didn't sound like hers. "If I don't kill you, they'll kill me."

He bared his teeth. "Let them. I'd die a thousand times for you."

God, the way he said it. Like he meant it. Maybe he did.

She kissed him, desperate, like it was the last breath she'd ever take. Final, hopeless. She could taste the end on his lips.

Then she grabbed the torch.

And let it fly.

---

She crashed back into her body with a scream, the kind that rips your throat raw. For a second she was nowhere-just trembling, lost, swimming in images that didn't make sense.

The door slammed open. Her maids. Lira was first, wide-eyed, clutching her nightgown like it was armor.

"My lady! Gods, what's wrong?"

Aria wiped her face, pretending she hadn't just been sobbing. "It's nothing. Just a nightmare."

Lira's eyes darted from the drenched sheets to Aria's face. "You're white as snow. Should I fetch your father?"

"No!" The word shot out, too sharp. She forced a shaky smile. "No, really. I just need a bath. Please."

Lira nodded, curtsied so fast she nearly toppled, and darted out.

Aria sat for a second, staring at her hands. They were shaking. The mark on her collarbone pulsed, insistent, like it was alive and hungry.

She dressed herself, slow and careful, like if she moved too fast she'd shatter.

---

By the time she stepped into the halls of Stormwatch Keep, she had her mask on. High-collared riding leathers, silver dagger at her hip, hair braided into a crown so tight it could cut glass. To everyone else, she was the Lady Aria-untouchable, sharp as a hawk. No one would guess her world was coming apart at the seams. She wouldn't let them.

Down in the council chamber, her father was locked in debate with Lord Thornmere, who looked about as interested as a cat at a dog show.

"...The Beast of Eldros?" Thornmere scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Harvin, that's just a fireside story. No one's seen the damn thing in centuries."

Her father didn't flinch. "Tell that to the empty watchtowers. Or the villagers screaming about glowing eyes in the woods."

Aria paused in the doorway, heart pounding. This again. The old stories. Except now they were crawling out of the shadows.

Her father noticed her. "You look pale, daughter."

She shrugged, lips quirking. "Didn't sleep. Too many wolves in the woods."

Thornmere laughed like she'd told a joke. "Let them come. We've dealt with bandits before."

Aria looked away, voice low. "They're not bandits. And it's not just wolves."

The room went dead silent. The kind of silence that buzzes.

Her father's eyes narrowed, searching her face. "What do you know, Aria?"

She shook her head, lying like a pro. "Nothing useful."

But her hand, traitor that it was, drifted to her collarbone, brushing the mark hidden under her clothes. Just for a second.

---

That night, sleep was a lost cause. She grabbed her blade and hit the moonlit courtyard, working herself until her muscles burned and sweat dripped down her spine. The world felt too small, the air too heavy.

At the edge of the courtyard stood the old well. The one from the stories-supposedly cursed, supposedly the prison of something ancient and angry. People said if a Moonborn got too close, the seal would break. She'd always called it nonsense. Fairy tales to scare children.

But her feet carried her there anyway.

She braced her hands on the cold stone rim, peering into darkness so deep it looked bottomless. The night was still, not even a breeze. For a second, she almost turned back.

But something made her lean in, whispering, "Who are you?"

Nothing. Just silence. Then-softer than breath-a voice that wasn't hers.

"Mine."

She flinched, stepping back, but too late. Golden light exploded upward, swallowing her whole, runes spinning around her feet, blood-red and ancient. The world warped and, just like that, he was there.

Kael.

Not a dream, not a memory. Real. Standing in front of her, bare-chested, skin scored with old scars, muscles shifting under golden light, eyes burning like the sun. He stepped out of the magic like he owned it, like he owned her.

Her body tried to run. He caught her in a heartbeat.

His arm locked around her waist, dragging her in until she could feel every inch of him. His mouth grazed her throat, hot and claiming.

"Still fighting me?" he whispered, low and dangerous.

She spat back, "I'm not yours-"

He just grinned, dark and slow. "You are. Every life, every death, every breath you take. Your soul remembers me, even when your mind forgets."

His hands slid down her back, making her shiver-half in fear, half in something else she didn't want to name. She hated the way her body melted against him, hated how her breath caught, how her knees went weak.

"I should kill you," she said, but her voice broke on the last word.

He caught her hand, pressed it to his chest. His heartbeat thundered under her palm. "Then do it. But I'll find you again. Every time. Until you remember why you burned for me under the stars."

Her fingers shook, caught between wanting and dreading.

The mark on her collarbone flared white-hot, almost painful. Something low in her belly twisted, hungry and sharp, a longing that felt like it might tear her apart.

He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear, voice a promise and a threat all at once. "This time, Aria... we finish what you started."

And for the first time, she wasn't sure if she wanted to run-or to surrender. Because every part of her-body, soul, memory-was already burning.