Kai stood in front of the bathroom mirror, his shirt half-off, his fingers pressed against his shoulder blade.
He didn't imagine it.
It was real.
The faint, crescent-shaped mark had appeared this morning—silver, delicate, like a scar that shimmered beneath the skin. It pulsed faintly, like it remembered something his mind hadn't caught up to yet.
He tilted his body, trying to get a better look in the mirror. The mark was identical to the sigil he used to bear as a royal guardian in his previous life. Back then, it had been branded with fire after he took the vow to protect Elenya.
Now it just… appeared.
He let out a breath. "What the hell is happening to me?"
He yanked his shirt back down and grabbed his bag. He had to talk to Lyra.
Lyra already knew.
She hadn't needed a mirror.
When she woke, the same crescent mark glowed faintly above her heart, and the first thing she'd felt was a sense of urgency.
Not fear.
Not pain.
But the sense that something ancient was beginning again—and this time, they'd have less time to prepare.
She sat at her desk in homeroom, drawing symbols idly in her notebook while pretending to listen. Lines. Circles. Crescent moons. Interlocking sigils that only she and a handful of mages from her past life had ever understood.
As she drew, her fingertips tingled faintly with heat.
It was starting.
Magic.
Real, living magic.
Not just memory. Not just dreams.
Kai walked in a moment later, looking paler than usual. Their eyes met. He gave a barely perceptible nod.
She understood.
They needed to talk. Now.
They met again on the rooftop during lunch. The city below buzzed, oblivious to the pair of teenagers on the edge of something much older than themselves.
"I woke up with this," Kai said, pulling up his sleeve and showing her the mark. "It wasn't there yesterday."
Lyra didn't flinch. She unbuttoned the top of her blouse just enough to reveal the matching crescent above her heart.
Kai stared at it like it might disappear.
"Why now?" he asked. "Why are we remembering more? Getting marks? We've only been fifteen for a few weeks."
"I think… something triggered the awakening," Lyra replied, glancing at the sky. "Or someone. We're not the only ones caught in this cycle. Maybe someone else is waking up too. And their presence is waking us."
Kai's voice dropped low. "The note. The warning. You think whoever left it is involved?"
Lyra hesitated. "I think we're being watched. And I think we were meant to find each other again. Maybe not just by fate… but by design."
Kai paced. "We're fifteen. We don't have weapons. No access to magic. No allies. We're just kids."
"We weren't always kids," she reminded him. "And we're not starting from nothing this time. We have memories. We have instincts. That's more than we had before."
He rubbed his temples. "So what's the plan?"
She glanced toward the door, voice sharp and certain.
"Tonight. Come to my place. We'll go through our memories. I'll show you the spellbook."
Kai blinked. "You have a spellbook?"
"No. I wrote one. In my past life. I've been rewriting it from memory for the last month. It's not perfect, but it's something."
Kai exhaled, both impressed and overwhelmed. "You've always been three steps ahead, huh?"
Lyra allowed herself a faint smile. "Someone had to be."
The sun dipped low when Kai arrived at Lyra's house later that evening.
It was a quiet, ivy-covered place tucked between two larger buildings. The garden was wild, but charming. Her aunt greeted Kai at the door and left them with cookies, assuming they were studying for a project.
Technically, they were.
Lyra led him upstairs to her room, which felt more like a study than a teenager's bedroom. Candles. Journals. Books that looked like they came from the 18th century.
She sat cross-legged on the floor and unrolled a scroll of parchment covered in ancient glyphs.
Kai's eyes widened. "This… is magic."
"Correct," Lyra said. "This is the Crescent Codex. Or at least, what I've been able to reconstruct."
Kai knelt beside her. "Can you read this?"
"Only when I'm not overthinking it," she replied dryly. "It's like remembering how to play an instrument you haven't touched in a lifetime."
She tapped one of the symbols.
"This one was the spell I used to seal the royal archives. And this—" she pointed to another "—was the ward I put around our room in the old castle."
"Our room?" Kai asked, a teasing edge in his voice.
Lyra didn't look at him. "Don't get smug. It was for safety."
Kai smirked. "Sure. Safety."
He studied her then, quietly. "You really remember everything, don't you?"
She nodded. "Not everything. But most. I think it's because I died with the spell still active. It left a mark on my soul."
"Then why don't I remember as much?"
"Because you died for me. You took the final blow. It fractured your soul—scattered your memories."
Kai fell silent. He hadn't known that part.
"I'm sorry," Lyra said softly. "You shouldn't have had to die for me."
He shook his head. "I don't regret it. Not then. Not now."
Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat, the room felt too full—with memory, with history, with the quiet ache of unfinished love.
But before either could speak again—
The candles flickered.
The room dimmed.
A presence pressed against the walls.
Lyra's spine went rigid. "Someone's here."
Kai stood, heart pounding. "In the house?"
"No," she whispered. "Outside. Watching."
She moved to the window and opened it a crack.
Below, at the edge of the garden, stood a boy around their age—too still, too quiet. His school uniform blended into the shadows. He looked up… and smiled.
His eyes were golden.
Not hazel. Not amber.
Gold.
Lyra's breath caught. "That can't be…"
Kai moved beside her. "Who is that?"
Her voice was barely audible.
"Lucien."
Kai blinked. "That name sounds…"
"Familiar?" she whispered. "It should. He was the one who betrayed us."