Niah's POV
The archives felt colder than I remembered, not in the way that makes you shiver, but in that weird, heavy way that settles in your bones. It was like the whole room was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Dust floated lazily through the colored shafts of light sneaking in from the stained glass, swirling around me with the soft crackle of old parchment and secrets that probably should've stayed buried.
I tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear and tried to focus on the stack of ancient texts Dr Thorne had dumped on me. Jules had dropped me off earlier, flashing that signature grin and tossing out a warning over her shoulder: "No starting a magical apocalypse before lunch."
I'd laughed at the time. But now, sitting here alone, the silence felt way too loud. That is, until he showed up.
Zaire.
He strode in, wrapped in that dark coat, eyes as cold as ever. He had this whole storm-in-human-form vibe that made me want to either punch him or pull him closer, sometimes both at once, honestly.
I did not look up right away, pretending to be super invested in the ledger. But I could feel him, like static in the air, tugging at my attention. My heart started pounding, skin tingling, something sharp and electric blooming in my chest before my brain could even catch up.
"Late start," he said, voice dry as ever.
I glanced up, trying to play it cool. "Didn't realize I was on the clock."
Zaire leaned against the pillar next to my desk, arms crossed, looking way too comfortable. "You're not. I just figured the archives might actually be peaceful if you weren't tapping your pen like you're about to have a meltdown."
I shot him a smirk. "And yet, here you are, single-handedly ruining the peace."
He chuckled, low and genuine. "Touché."
Somehow, we slipped into this rhythm of tense, but weirdly familiar. Zaire started helping me dig through the old catalog, pointing out stuff I'd missed. Every so often, he'd get a little too close, sometimes a shoulder bump here, fingers brushing as we passed scrolls there. Each time, it hit me harder. Too hard for my liking.
I caught myself staring as he straightened a row of books, the light catching his jaw just so. It wasn't fair how he moved through this place, like the magic in the walls recognized him as one of its own.
"You're distracted Esme," he said out of nowhere.
I shot back, "I'm focused, can't you see?"
"You're a terrible liar."
I snapped the ledger shut, maybe a little too hard. "Maybe I'd be less distracted if someone wasn't breathing down my neck every five seconds."
Zaire leaned in, voice dropping low. "If I were breathing down your neck, Esme, trust me, you'd know."
My cheeks went hot with anger, embarrassment and something else I didn't want to name. I gripped my quill so tight my knuckles ached.
"Stop calling me that."
He tilted his head, studying me. "Why? Because it finally feels true?"
I turned away, heart thundering in my ears. "Because I don't even know who that is."
For a second, he was quiet. Then, softly, "You will soon find out."
I sucked in a shaky breath, trying to pull myself together. I opened the next record, but a wave of dizziness crashed over me, which was subtle but impossible to ignore. The edges of my vision shimmered, and my fingers tingled.
The page under my hand started to glow, just faintly.
Zaire was at my side in a heartbeat. "It's starting again."
I looked up at him, eyes wide. "Why does it feel like… I need to be near you when this happens?"
He didn't answer. Just watched me with that unreadable expression. But his hand hovered close to mine, close enough that I could feel the warmth, the grounding, the tether.
In that moment, I wasn't just some girl lost in a dusty archive. I was something more. And Zaire, he was the storm that never forgot my name.
The page under my hand was still glowing with soft, almost shy like moonlight slipping through water. It pulsed with a beat that wasn't mine but somehow felt like it belonged to me anyway.
My fingers shook as I traced the symbols rising up from the parchment. The letters curled and twisted, drifting like smoke, settling into shapes that tugged at the edge of my memory. I almost got it.
Then—bam. It hit me.
One word blazed through the ink, searing itself into me like it had always been there, hidden under my skin, just waiting for this moment.
RAIN.
I sucked in a breath. Not just some random word, not a whisper of a storm or a memory of weather. No, this was different. This was a name. And the second I saw it, something sharp and aching yanked at my chest, right down to my bones. I didn't know how I knew it. I just… did.
The word slipped out of me before I could even think, like it had been waiting on my tongue forever.
"...Rain."
Hearing this, Zaire went completely still.
It was subtle, but I felt it like a string snapping tight between us. He turned to me, eyes wide, caught somewhere between awe and pain and something else I couldn't name.
"You said it," he breathed, his voice all shaky and low. "You remember…"
My heart was pounding so hard I could barely hear myself. "I don't. Not really. But that word—it felt like I've said it before. A long time ago. And it was...you."
Something raw flickered in his eyes. His hands hovered just above my shoulders, but I could feel the heat rolling off him. He was holding himself back, every muscle pulled tight, like he was afraid he'd break something if he let go.
"You always knew me as Rain," he said, voice soft as a secret. "That was my name before all the lives and silence. You gave it to me when names still meant something real."
I couldn't look away from him. The whole archive had gone silent, just the glow of the page, my heart racing, and Zaire or Rain, or whoever he was, watching me like I was the only thing keeping him anchored here.
"Say it again," he whispered.
My lips parted, breath coming fast. "Rain."
His hands clenched the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white. "You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that again. How long I've—"
"Zaire." I cut him off, sharper than I meant to, just trying to keep my feet on the ground. "I don't understand any of this."
"You don't have to. Not yet," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "But the part of you that said my name? That's her. That's Esme. That's who you were before you forgot."
I took a step back, head spinning, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from his. "Why does it feel like if you touched me right now, the whole world would just… split open?"
He let out a broken laugh. "Because it might."
We just stood there, the air between us stretched so tight it practically hummed. Every breath felt like it belonged to both of us, tangled up and impossible to separate.
And then, slowly, the glow faded. Just a little. Like the book itself knew we'd reached the edge of something huge and for now, that was enough.
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