The sky was a color too deep to be called blue, though the poets tried. It was a strange kind of twilight that clung to the air even in midday, like the faintest memory of something half-forgotten. Above the small town of Eldermoor, the clouds rolled like slow-moving rivers of mist, their edges curled in ways that made the sky feel endless and heavy.
Lena had always felt that weight, even as a child. She could remember standing on the edge of the fields behind her family’s house, eyes squinting against the blinding sunlight, and wondering why the sky always seemed to press down on her shoulders. Her mother would call her inside, brushing dust from her clothes, telling her to stop staring at the clouds. But Lena never could. The sky, with all its endlessness and silence, was the only place she ever felt truly at home.
Now, as an adult, she stood in the same field, feeling that familiar pull once more. The wind stirred the tall grass around her ankles, but it was the weight of the sky that made her shoulders tense, her thoughts narrow and sharp.
“You’re still here,” a voice said, soft and unexpected.
Lena turned to see a man standing at the edge of the field, just a few steps away. He wasn’t someone she recognized, though his face held a kind of quiet familiarity. It was the sort of look you get when you’ve seen someone before, but can’t quite place where.
“Sorry,” he said, noticing her hesitation. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Lena shook her head. “No, it’s just… it’s rare to see anyone out here.”
The man smiled, but it was a strange smile—half sadness, half something else. “I’m not from around here. My name’s Rafe.”
He took a step closer, and Lena felt a peculiar tightening in her chest. There was something in his eyes—something she couldn’t quite understand but also couldn’t ignore.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.
Rafe didn’t immediately answer. Instead, he looked up at the sky, his gaze drawn to the same clouds that always held Lena captive. For a moment, there was nothing but the distant rustling of leaves and the weight of the horizon pressing down on both of them.
“I think I’ve come for you,” he said at last.
Lena frowned, stepping back slightly. “What do you mean?”
The man’s gaze shifted back to her. His expression had softened, though there was something in his eyes that seemed to burn with an intensity she couldn’t place. “I know you feel it,” he said. “The weight of it. The way the sky pulls at you.”
Lena swallowed, her pulse quickening. “How do you know that?”
“I’ve been looking for someone like you,” Rafe said, his voice barely a whisper. “Someone who knows what the sky really is.”
Lena’s heart skipped a beat. “And what is the sky?” she asked, even though she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.
Rafe didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took another step toward her, his eyes never leaving hers.
“It’s not just a sky,” he said softly. “It’s a door.”
