The first thing Lyra felt when she woke up was heat .
Not the soft warmth of morning sun slipping through her curtains, but a fierce, unnatural burn behind her eyes—like she'd stared too long into a fire that wasn't hers.
She sat up in bed, heart racing, breath shaky.
Again.
The same dream.
The man with silver eyes.
She looked around the small stone chamber, her breath still fogging the air despite the flickering hearth. Her room smelled of lavender and melted wax, but the comfort it usually offered felt distant—blurred beneath something heavy pressing against her chest.
This was the third night in a row.
Three nights seeing a place she'd never been.
A city soaked in blood skies.
A boy—no, a man—standing alone atop a black tower, watching her like he knew her. Like he had always known her.
And worse...
She could feel him.
She reached for the charm at her neck, her fingers brushing the crescent moon etched into obsidian. A gift from her mother. A protection sigil, meant to shield her dreams from prophecy and poison. But it was cracked now, a thin line down the middle like a warning.
A knock sounded.
Lyra quickly stood, pulling a robe over her nightdress. "Come in."
The door creaked open to reveal Marian, her aunt and mentor, with gray-streaked braids and sharp eyes that missed nothing.
"You screamed in your sleep again," Marian said, her voice even. "Tell me."
Lyra hesitated. "It was the same dream."
Marian stepped inside, her expression darkening. "The tower. The bleeding sky. The prince."
"You've seen it too."
Marian didn't answer, which was answer enough.
"Who is he?" Lyra whispered. "Why do I feel like I've known him for lifetimes?"
"That's because you have," Marian said quietly, moving to the window. "Or... you were meant to."
Lyra blinked. "I don't understand."
"There are things older than our magic, child. Promises made in blood and curses bound in silence. Some ties are deeper than this life."
Lyra sat on the edge of her bed, fingers twisting the charm again. "Is he a vampire?"
Marian's shoulders stiffened. "Yes."
Silence.
"You told me vampires were dead things. That they had no souls."
"They don't. Not anymore."
"But I saw his eyes. I felt him breathing."
Marian turned to her sharply. "Then you saw something that shouldn't exist."
The words hung between them like smoke.
After a moment, Marian crossed the room and took Lyra's hands gently. "Listen to me. You must not seek him. Dreams are doors, and some were closed for good reason."
"But what if he's seeking me?"
Marian paused.
Then said something Lyra would never forget.
"Then the world is already beginning to bleed."
---
Later that night, when the coven had gathered under the moon for the fire rites, Lyra stood on the outskirts of the circle, her hands glowing faintly with starlight magic.
She felt... disconnected.
The other witches sang, danced, called to the stars.
But Lyra was staring into the fire. And in its flickering glow, for the briefest second, she saw him again.
Silver eyes.
Blood sky.
A whisper brushing the edges of her mind.
Come find me.