The dreams grew stronger.
They no longer waited for sleep to find me. I'd be walking home from the market and catch the faint melody in the breeze. I'd smell the wild flowers again. Sometimes, I'd see fleeting shadows behind me - slender limbs, hair flowing like river silk, eyes gleaming like moonstone.
I knew it was him.
I told myself I wasn't afraid. That I was imagining it. But one afternoon, I found myself drawn to the edge of the balete grove. My feet moved before my mind could protest. The air grew thick and still. Even the birds seemed to hold their breath. And then, I heard it:
"Elara."
My name, spoken like a secret prayer.
I turned, heart racing - and there he was. Not a dream. Not a trick of the light.
He was beautiful. Ethereal. Skin pale as polished ivory, hair black as night, and those silver eyes. But there was something else - a sadness. A deep, echoing sorrow that made my chest ache.
"Who are you?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
"I am what your people forgot," he replied. "What they buried in stories and sealed beneath roots. I am Soliran. And I have watched you grow."
The name rang in my bones like an old song.
He didn't step closer, but I could feel him in my veins - his presence, his yearning. I should've run. I should've screamed.
But I didn't.
Instead, I asked, "Why me?"
He tilted his head. "Because you listen. You remember. And because you dream."
From that moment, something changed in me. I began to seek him. When Mama slept, I'd sneak out to the grove. We never touched, but we spoke for hours. He told me about his world, hidden just beneath ours - a world of light and shadow, of promises never kept and hearts never freed. A world where love meant captivity.
He said he was cursed to remain beneath the tree, tethered by old magic and older sins. But my presence weakened the chains.
"What if I set you free?" I asked one night.
His eyes darkened. "Then you'd never be free of me."
The wind rustled the branches above us, and somewhere deep within, the tree sighed.
I should've been terrified.
But instead, I asked him to sing again.
And he did.
The days blurred after that. I lied to Mama. I lost sleep. My reflection in the mirror began to change - eyes deeper, smile softer, heart heavier.
One evening, Mama placed a bowl of salt water beneath my bed.
"To catch the truth," she said.
That night, I dreamt of fireflies and a kiss I never received.
In the morning, the water was black.
They no longer waited for sleep to find me. I'd be walking home from the market and catch the faint melody in the breeze. I'd smell the wild flowers again. Sometimes, I'd see fleeting shadows behind me - slender limbs, hair flowing like river silk, eyes gleaming like moonstone.
I knew it was him.
I told myself I wasn't afraid. That I was imagining it. But one afternoon, I found myself drawn to the edge of the balete grove. My feet moved before my mind could protest. The air grew thick and still. Even the birds seemed to hold their breath. And then, I heard it:
"Elara."
My name, spoken like a secret prayer.
I turned, heart racing - and there he was. Not a dream. Not a trick of the light.
He was beautiful. Ethereal. Skin pale as polished ivory, hair black as night, and those silver eyes. But there was something else - a sadness. A deep, echoing sorrow that made my chest ache.
"Who are you?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
"I am what your people forgot," he replied. "What they buried in stories and sealed beneath roots. I am Soliran. And I have watched you grow."
The name rang in my bones like an old song.
He didn't step closer, but I could feel him in my veins - his presence, his yearning. I should've run. I should've screamed.
But I didn't.
Instead, I asked, "Why me?"
He tilted his head. "Because you listen. You remember. And because you dream."
From that moment, something changed in me. I began to seek him. When Mama slept, I'd sneak out to the grove. We never touched, but we spoke for hours. He told me about his world, hidden just beneath ours - a world of light and shadow, of promises never kept and hearts never freed. A world where love meant captivity.
He said he was cursed to remain beneath the tree, tethered by old magic and older sins. But my presence weakened the chains.
"What if I set you free?" I asked one night.
His eyes darkened. "Then you'd never be free of me."
The wind rustled the branches above us, and somewhere deep within, the tree sighed.
I should've been terrified.
But instead, I asked him to sing again.
And he did.
The days blurred after that. I lied to Mama. I lost sleep. My reflection in the mirror began to change - eyes deeper, smile softer, heart heavier.
One evening, Mama placed a bowl of salt water beneath my bed.
"To catch the truth," she said.
That night, I dreamt of fireflies and a kiss I never received.
In the morning, the water was black.
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