Chapter 3 The Ashen stranger

The city of Emberfall never truly slept. It simply shifted masks-trading the clangor of daylight for the whisper of secrets. Neon lights flickered like dying stars over rain-slick streets, and shadows curled tighter around alleyways like they knew something you didn't.

Arielle walked alone beneath the midnight sky, her coat clutched close against the cool bite of spring air. She could still feel the stranger's gaze from the antique shop hours ago-the way his voice had rumbled through her like thunder wrapped in velvet.

Duncan.

She hadn't asked for his name, yet it echoed in her mind like it had always been there, waiting to be remembered.

She tried to shake it off, blaming her unease on the city. Emberfall always stirred something uneasy in her, especially around the Market Quarter. The veil between the mundane and the magical ran thinnest there, where shopkeepers sold candles that whispered and mirrors that remembered.

Arielle turned down Rosehaven Alley, a quiet lane choked with ivy and silence. Her heels clicked softly on the wet cobblestones, and something pulled at her-a feeling she'd known since childhood. That invisible thread. A calling.

She paused.

The wind stilled. The world held its breath.

And there he was.

Duncan stood at the alley's end, half-hidden in the mist rising from the grates. His coat fluttered behind him like a black wing, and the golden streetlight turned the edges of his hair to fire.

"You followed me," she said, voice low but unafraid.

"No," he answered. "I was drawn."

Arielle folded her arms, masking the shiver that danced up her spine. "Drawn? To what?"

He took a step closer, and she could see it now-the faint shimmer in his irises. Not human. Not anymore.

"To you."

She should've run.

Instead, she stood her ground. "What are you?"

He didn't answer. Not with words.

A gust of wind swept around them, lifting her hair like strands of silver ribbon. And then-just for a heartbeat-she saw it. A flicker behind his eyes. Smoke and flame. Pain. A curse wrapped in a man's skin.

"You're cursed," she whispered.

His expression didn't change, but his voice dropped, rough and quiet. "So are you."

The words hit like a slap. She staggered back a step, breath caught in her throat. "You don't know me."

"No," he said, walking toward her, closing the distance. "But I recognize the kind of silence you carry. It's the kind that screams."

She swallowed hard. "What do you want from me?"

"I don't know," Duncan said honestly, stopping inches from her. "But I think whatever broke me-whatever started the fire inside me-it begins and ends with you."

Arielle's heart thundered. She didn't believe in fate, but something about this felt too deliberate to be chance.

"I should go," she said.

"You should."

But she didn't.

Not yet.

Somewhere in the distance, church bells rang midnight.

And Emberfall held its breath once more.