Sarafina's POV
Darkness didn't take me gently.
It folded over me like deep water, thick, warm, suffocating in a way that made my pulse stumble. I wasn't awake. But I wasn't sleeping either.
Somewhere in between, my mind drifted weightless, unanchored, floating through a silence that felt too deliberate.
Then I heard it.
A hum.
Soft at first… then pulsing like a heartbeat underwater.
I followed it without meaning to, drawn forward by instinct, or fate, or the thing inside me I still couldn't understand. The darkness thinned, stretched, then peeled away like smoke.
Light spilled in.
A meadow appeared in front of me—silver grass swaying without wind, sky rippling like liquid star-fire. Everything glowed faintly, like a dream stolen from another world.
I took a step.
My foot touched the ground.
And the air changed—warm, familiar, aching.
Someone stood at the center of the field.
A woman.
Her back was to me, long pale-gold hair drifting around her as though the air adored her. When she breathed, the world seemed to breathe with her. Her gown shimmered—not fabric, not silk. Something woven from moonlight itself.
My chest tightened sharply.
I knew her.
But I didn't.
"Hello?" My voice trembled and echoed, swallowed by the glowing air.
The woman didn't turn.
But she spoke.
"Come here, my daughter."
Every part of me froze.
My daughter.
The words struck like a cold blade sliding beneath my ribs. They shouldn't have meant anything. They shouldn't have felt like recognition. But something inside me—something old and buried—shivered awake.
I tried to speak.
I couldn't.
My feet moved on their own, carrying me closer until I stood only a few steps behind her.
"Who… are you?" I whispered.
This time, she turned.
And I forgot how to breathe.
Her face wasn't familiar in the normal sense. I didn't remember her. But my bones did. My blood did. My soul did. Her eyes were star-bright, silver and gold twisting inside her irises like living constellations.
She smiled softly, tragically.
"My beautiful child. I've waited so long."
"I don't understand."
My voice cracked.
"You will." Her fingers brushed my cheek—warm, impossibly gentle. "Your seal weakens. Your blood remembers. And soon… they will find you."
My heart thrashed in my chest.
"Who?" I whispered. "Who's coming for me?"
Her expression darkened, grief shadowing her celestial features.
"The ones who destroyed me. The ones who fear what you will become."
A tremor split the meadow—light flickering, stars distorting, the sky cracking like glass under pressure.
"No." She grabbed my shoulders, urgent now. "Listen to me. You must stay alive. You must—"
The world shattered.
Wind roared.
Light exploded.
Her face blurred into blinding white.
"Mother?" I choked. "Wait—!"
Her voice echoed, breaking apart like smoke torn by storm winds:
"Find the gate… before they find you."
And then—
I dropped.
Falling.
Falling—
I hit my bed with a gasp, choking on air, body drenched in sweat.
My hands shook violently.
Mother.
A word I had never used.
A woman I had never met. A warning I didn't understand.
But her final whisper scorched itself into my mind, impossible to ignore:
Find the gate… before they find you.