The wind howled against the jagged spires of Kaelion’s sanctum, a wretched sound that mirrored the turmoil within him. For a thousand years, he had lived with the unbearable weight of eternity, his soul hollowed by time and solitude. Power meant nothing without someone to share it with. The world he had conquered, the magic he had mastered, all of it was dust compared to the yearning that consumed him.

And then, he found her.

Mira.

The threads of fate had led him to her, as vibrant and warm as the dawn he had long forgotten. Her smile was a dagger to his chest, her laughter an ache that made his cold blood boil. She was perfect in every way that mattered—and she was his. She had to be.

But she wasn’t.

Kaelion’s lips curled into a sneer as he watched her from the shadows, her laughter ringing through the marketplace as she leaned into her husband’s touch. The man—a bland, insignificant mortal—had what should have been Kaelion’s. It was an insult, a cosmic joke, that she would waste her brilliance on such a dull existence.

His hands clenched, magic sparking at his fingertips. He could end the man’s life with a flick of his wrist, reduce him to ash and claim Mira as his own. But no. That would be too crude, too easy. Mira deserved better than brute force. She would come to him willingly, once she understood who he was and the depths of his devotion.

Kaelion retreated to his sanctum, where the air crackled with the weight of his fury. By candlelight, he prepared the spell. If he could not have her in the waking world, he would have her in her dreams. There, she would see him as he wished to be seen—her savior, her lover, her only desire.

The first night, Mira dreamed of a garden she had never seen before, its flowers luminous and otherworldly. Kaelion was waiting for her among the blooms, his dark robes flowing like shadows, his eyes burning with an intensity that made her shiver.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“I am the one who has waited for you,” he replied, his voice a silken snare. “The one who has loved you for lifetimes.”

She backed away, confused, but the garden shifted around her, the path leading her inexorably closer to him. Kaelion reached out, his hand brushing her cheek, and Mira woke with a gasp, her heart racing.

He smiled in the darkness of his sanctum, satisfied. She would dream of him again.

And again.

Until she couldn’t bear to wake up without him. 

Mira dreamed of him again.

This time, the garden was gone, replaced by a moonlit ballroom of impossible splendor. The air shimmered with silver and gold, the floor a perfect mirror reflecting the endless cosmos above. She stood alone at the centre, her simple gown transformed into a cascade of starlight.

And then he appeared.

Kaelion emerged from the shadows like a predator stepping into his domain. He was tall, impossibly so, with broad shoulders that spoke of strength and a bearing that made her heart quicken against her will. His hair was as dark as the void, falling almost to his knees, but tied at his middle reveling a face that could have been sculpted by the gods themselves. Sharp cheekbones framed a jawline that promised both tenderness and cruelty, and his eyes—those eyes—glowed like molten amber, piercing through her as if he could see every secret she’d ever buried.

“Dance with me,” he said, his voice low and commanding, a velvet blade slicing through the stillness.

Mira hesitated, her pulse racing. “I don’t even know your name.”

He smirked, a hint of danger curling his lips. “You don’t need to. Not yet.”

Against her better judgment, her hand lifted, trembling as it met his. His skin was warm, his touch electric, and as he pulled her close, the world around them melted away. His arm encircled her waist, his hand cradling hers with an intimacy that made her breath hitch.

“Why do you keep appearing in my dreams?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Because I cannot stay away,” he murmured, his lips so close to her ear she could feel the heat of his breath. “You are mine, Mira. You have always been mine.”

A shiver ran down her spine, a mixture of fear and something darker, something she couldn’t name. She knew she should pull away, but his presence was magnetic, his beauty intoxicating. The way he looked at her—like she was the only thing in the universe that mattered—made her knees weak.

“I’m married,” she managed to say, though her words felt hollow even to her.

Kaelion’s smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of something raw and dangerous. “He cannot love you as I do,” he said, his voice thick with yearning. “He cannot see you as I see you. You belong to me, Mira. You always have.”

The dream ended with his hand cradling her face, his lips a whisper away from hers. She woke with a gasp, her heart pounding as if she had run a great distance. Beside her, her husband slept soundly, unaware of the storm raging within her.

Mira pressed a hand to her chest, willing herself to calm down. It was just a dream, she told herself. Just a dream.

But deep down, she knew it wasn’t. 

Far away in his sanctum, Kaelion stood before his scrying mirror, watching her stir in her bed. His reflection sneered back at him, a vision of cruel perfection. He brushed a hand through his dark hair and smiled, slow and satisfied.

She was beginning to break.

The dreams would continue, growing more vivid, more irresistible, until she could no longer distinguish them from reality. And when the time came, she would come to him, willingly.

He would make sure of it.