Chapter One: The Lighthouse
The first time Elara saw him, she thought he was a ghost.
He stood beneath the dead lighthouse, dressed in black, his face half-hidden by the rain. The sea crashed behind him, swallowing the moonlight.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.
Elara tightened her grip on the brass lantern.
“I could say the same about you.”
His lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile.
“My name is Lucien.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“No,” he said quietly. “But you will.”
She should have walked away.
Instead, she stayed.
That was her first mistake.
The second was looking into his eyes.
There was something broken in them. Something ancient and furious. Yet when he looked at her, the anger disappeared, replaced by an unsettling tenderness.
“You have the lantern,” he whispered.
“It was given to me.”
“It was never meant for you.”
“Then take it.”
Lucien stepped closer.
Elara expected him to reach for the lantern.
He didn’t.
Instead, he lifted his hand and gently brushed a strand of wet hair from her face.
His fingers were ice-cold.
“You don’t understand,” he said. “If I take it, I lose you.”
Her breath caught.
“Why would you care?”
His expression darkened.
“Because I’ve been waiting thirty years for you.”
Elara stepped back.
“You don’t know me.”
“I know everything.”
The wind howled around them.
Lucien leaned closer, his voice barely audible.
“I know the dreams you’ve been having since you were a child. I know why you wake up afraid. I know the name you whisper when you’re frightened.”
Elara’s heart pounded.
“What name?”
His eyes locked onto hers.
“Mine.”
