The days on Jeongdo Island felt surreal as if I'd stepped into a dream I never wanted to leave. Six months ago, I was Katherine Davis—a name that tasted of bitterness, carrying the weight of my father's abuse and the endless fear that had shaped my existence. Here, on this quiet, sun-drenched island, I was simply Amira. Free. Or as free as I could allow myself to be.

The island's fifty residents had embraced Alexios and me as their own. Together, we helped elderly couples with daily chores, lent a hand at the local hospital, and played with children who roamed the sandy shores like carefree spirits. The slow pace of life, dictated by the tides and the seasons, seemed to soften the jagged edges of my past.

Alexios was my anchor in this fragile peace. His kindness, his patience—it was everything I needed but didn't dare to ask for. Every day, I caught glimpses of the life we could have if I allowed myself to trust again, to let go of the chains my father had wrapped around my heart. But even as the island air filled my lungs, parts of me still struggled to believe this was real.

One evening, as the sun sank below the horizon in a blaze of orange and pink, we sat together on the porch of our modest home. The sound of waves lapping against the shore brought a strange comfort, a rhythm I was beginning to rely on.

"Do you ever think about what happens next?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

Alexios turned to me, his eyes meeting mine with a warmth that always caught me off guard. "I believe we're on the right path. As long as we're together, we can face whatever comes."

"Together." The word felt foreign yet comforting as it left my lips. I smiled—a real smile, one that touched something deep inside me.

That night, as the stars blanketed the sky, something shifted within me. For months, Alexios had respected my boundaries, never pushing, never asking for more than I could give. Yet now, I found myself yearning for something more—something I was terrified to name.

"Alexios," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I think I'm ready."

His gaze softened with concern. "Are you sure? I don't want to rush you."

I nodded, drawing strength from the trust in his eyes. "I want this. I want you."

For the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself be vulnerable. The world fell away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the safety of his embrace, so this is how it feels. That night, under the stars, I let myself believe in love as if we were the only ones in this world.

The next morning, I awoke to sunlight streaming through the window, Alexios's steady presence beside me. He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his touch so gentle it made my heart ache.

"Stay and rest," he urged, a small smile tugging at his lips.

I nodded, watching as he prepared to leave for the local clinic. But as the door closed behind him, a strange unease settled over me, a shadow I couldn't shake.

The attack came without warning.

The first assassin shattered the door, his movements a blur. My instincts took over before I had time to think. Grabbing a wooden staff from the corner of the room, I struck out, the force of my blow sending him sprawling. But more followed—faceless shadows intent on dragging me back into a nightmare I thought I'd escaped.

Each strike of my staff felt like a piece of my soul fighting to survive. Memories of my father's brutal "training" resurfaced, sharpening my reflexes but twisting my heart with pain. The air hummed with the faint stirrings of my power, but it wasn't enough. I was already too weak.

A dagger found its mark, plunging into my side. A searing pain shot through me, stealing my breath. My vision blurred, the world tilting as I stumbled back. The taste of iron filled my mouth, and I collapsed against the wall, clutching the wound.

I thought of Alexios—of his laughter, his warmth, the way he'd held me as if I were the most precious thing in the world. Would I ever see him again?

Alexios burst through the door moments later, his voice frantic. "Amira!"

His footsteps thundered through the house, stopping abruptly when he found me.

"No," he whispered, dropping to his knees beside me. His hands trembled as he cradled my face, his eyes glistening with tears. "Amira, stay with me. Please."

The pain in his voice hurt more than the dagger in my side. "Alexios… it hurts," I murmured, my voice barely audible.

"I'll find a way," he vowed, his desperation carving itself into my heart.

A figure materialized beside us, her presence commanding yet strangely familiar. Theia. She knelt, her hand hovering over my wound, her brow furrowed.

"The power within her…" she murmured, confusion lacing her voice. "It's divine, yet suppressed. Only Adira could have sealed it."

Alexios's gaze snapped to her. "Can you save her?"

Theia hesitated. "I can, but there's a cost. Her soul must travel to another world, our world, one where she can heal. But the journey will distort her memories. She may not remember you—or herself."

Alexios's grip on my hand tightened. "Do it. I'll bring her back. No matter what it takes."

Theia's expression softened. "Her divine lineage offers a glimmer of hope. Deep in her soul, she has locked away her most cherished memories with you, protecting them like treasures. But even so, this path will not be easy."

A portal swirled into existence, its energy illuminating the room. Alexios held me close, his tears falling onto my skin.

"I'll find you," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Even if you don't remember me, I'll find you."

As the portal's light enveloped me, I clung to the sound of his voice, a fragile thread anchoring me to a love I feared I might forget. Darkness closed in, and the last thing I saw was Alexios's face—etched with pain, but full of hope.