Between Light and Shadow

Cold.

That was the first thing Lyra felt. A deep, bone-chilling cold that wrapped around her like invisible chains, dragging her down into nothingness. Her breath hitched as she tried to move, but her limbs felt weightless, suspended in the dark.

Then—a whisper.

Not the same one as before. This voice was softer, familiar, achingly familiar.

"Lyra…"

Her heart lurched.

"Aiden?" she gasped.

Light exploded around her.

Suddenly, she wasn't falling anymore. She was somewhere else. The Everhart house had vanished, replaced by an endless, moonlit lake. The sky stretched above her, vast and unnatural, with stars that pulsed like dying embers. The second moon hung closer than ever, its crimson glow rippling across the water like bloodstains on glass.

And then she saw him.

Aiden stood in the distance, half-submerged in the water, his dark hair damp, his face hidden in shadows.

But it was him.

She ran.

The lake felt unreal beneath her feet—each step sent ripples outward, yet she didn't sink. She didn't question it. All that mattered was reaching him.

"Aiden!"

He didn't move.

She reached for him, fingers trembling, but the moment her hand brushed his, a violent shock tore through her body—

Aiden's head snapped up, and Lyra staggered back.

Because this wasn't her Aiden.

His eyes, usually warm and familiar, were empty. Hollow.

And then—they turned black.

A choked sound caught in Lyra's throat as darkness began to spread from his fingertips, curling like smoke up his arms. His body convulsed, shadows twisting around him like living things.

"Lyra," his voice came, but it wasn't his voice at all. It was layered—distorted, as if something else was speaking through him.

She took a shaky step back. "What's happening to you?"

Aiden twitched. His hands clutched at his head as if trying to fight something off. The sky above them flickered, the stars blinking out one by one.

"He doesn't belong here," the voice rasped.

Lyra's blood ran cold. "Who are you?"

"You are running out of time."

The words echoed, the same ones from before.

Aiden suddenly lunged forward, his fingers grabbing her wrist with a grip so tight it sent a searing pain up her arm. Lyra screamed, but the moment his skin touched hers, memories came rushing back—

A night under the stars. His lips tracing the curve of her shoulder. The way he had whispered, "Forever, Lyra." The way he had kissed her like she was the only thing that mattered in the universe.

And then—the accident.

The sound of shattering glass. The metallic scent of blood. The last thing she remembered before waking up alone.

"Aiden—!"

The darkness surged between them, and then—

She woke up.

Gasping.

Back in the Everhart house.

The broken lightbulbs were gone. The room was intact. It was as if nothing had happened at all.

Except Aiden was still there, staring at her.

But something was different.

His hands trembled at his sides. His breathing was shallow. His face was pale, like he had just seen a ghost.

Or—

Like he had just seen her.

"Lyra," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

And then—"I remember."

Lyra's breath caught in her throat.

He remembered.

Aiden's hands clenched into fists at his sides, his shoulders rigid. His eyes darted around the room like he was trying to piece together where—when—he was. He looked lost, like a man waking from a nightmare only to find himself in another.

Lyra took a step forward. "Aiden?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

His gaze snapped back to hers, sharp and searching.

Then, in a hoarse whisper, he said, "What did you do to me?"

Lyra's stomach twisted. "What?"

Aiden took a step back, his hands lifting as if to keep her at a distance. "I—" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I was fine. I didn't—None of this was real. And then I saw you, and it's like something… broke." His fingers pressed against his temples. "My head—it's splitting apart."

Lyra reached for him, desperate to calm the storm in his eyes. "Aiden, listen to me—"

He flinched.

Like her touch burned.

Lyra's breath stilled.

Aiden never flinched away from her.

Something inside her cracked, but she forced herself to stay steady. "You know me," she said, her voice trembling but firm. "You remember me."

Aiden's hands curled into his hair. "I don't—I don't know what's real," he muttered. "I remember you, but it's like… two versions of my life are fighting inside my head." His jaw tightened. "And I don't know which one is true."

A chill ran through Lyra's spine.

The second moon.

It wasn't just bringing him back. It was pulling him between two different realities.

If Aiden was experiencing both at once… no wonder he looked like he was unraveling.

She swallowed. "Aiden. Listen to me." She stepped closer, careful this time. "I don't know why this is happening, but you have to trust me. I swear to you—" her voice broke, "—I am real."

Aiden's breath came out shakily. His fingers twitched at his sides.

For a moment, he looked at her like he believed her.

Then—

The whisper returned.

"He is slipping."

The room shook.

The windows rattled, the air plunging into icy stillness. Lyra gasped, instinctively reaching for Aiden—

But his eyes turned black again.

No.

No, no, no—

"Aiden!" she cried, grabbing his face between her hands. "Stay with me!"

But his body was rigid. His breathing had turned shallow. And then, just like before—the darkness crawled up his skin.

Aiden convulsed.

And Lyra knew, with a sickening certainty—

Something was taking him.

The shadows rushed forward.

Lyra screamed—

Then everything exploded into darkness.

Darkness surrounded Lyra.

But this time, it wasn't consuming.

It was… waiting.

She wasn't falling. She wasn't suffocating. The cold was still there, lingering at the edges of her senses, but it didn't dig into her like before. Instead, it wrapped around her like a silent observer, watching.

Then—warmth.

Soft, faint, but undeniably there.

Her fingers tingled first. Then her arms. A slow, careful pull, like something was guiding her back.

And then—

She was breathing.

Lyra's eyes fluttered open. The world was blurred at first, like a watercolor painting smeared by rain. A dim glow surrounded her—the soft flicker of candlelight. Shadows danced against the walls, stretching like fingers, but they didn't feel menacing.

The weight in her chest eased.

She was… home.

The Everhart house.

Not broken. Not distorted. The walls were sturdy, the windows intact. The old wooden bookshelves stood where they always had, lined with volumes she had spent years collecting. A small candle burned on the side table, wax dripping down its base.

It was normal.

And yet—

Something wasn't.

Because Aiden wasn't there.

Lyra sat up too fast, her head spinning. The memory of him—his eyes turning black, the darkness swallowing him whole—flashed in her mind, making her stomach twist.

"Aiden?" she rasped.

Silence.

Panic flared. She scrambled to her feet, nearly knocking over the candle in her rush. Where was he?

The last thing she remembered—he was losing control. The shadows had wrapped around him, dragging him into the abyss. And now, she was here. Alone.

No.

No, she wouldn't accept that.

Lyra's hands trembled as she pressed them to her chest, forcing herself to breathe. Aiden was here. He had to be.

She turned sharply toward the hallway. If he had woken up before her, maybe he—

Then—

A sound.

Faint, but unmistakable.

A sharp inhale. A ragged breath.

Her heart lurched.

She followed it—quick steps through the hallway, past the dim light filtering through the windows, past the memories pressing against the walls like ghosts—

Until she saw him.

Aiden sat on the floor at the far end of the hallway, his back against the wooden paneling. His knees were bent, arms resting on them, fingers loosely curled. His head was tilted downward, dark strands of hair falling over his face.

He looked shaken.

He looked lost.

Lyra's breath caught.

She had found him.

But had he found himself?

"Aiden…" she whispered.

He didn't look up immediately. His shoulders tensed slightly, but he didn't move away.

That was enough.

Slowly, carefully, Lyra stepped forward.

Then she knelt before him.

Close, but not too close. Giving him space, but not distance. Letting him feel her presence without forcing it.

For a moment, there was only silence. The crackling of the candlelight. The steady rhythm of their breathing.

Then—

Aiden exhaled shakily.

"I remember," he murmured.

Lyra's pulse pounded.

He remembered.

Not flashes. Not just pieces. But something real.

She searched his face, taking in every detail—the way his lashes fluttered against his skin, the slight tremor in his fingers, the conflict brewing behind his stormy gaze.

Then—slowly, cautiously—she reached out.

Not to grab him. Not to demand.

Just a simple, open hand, resting lightly on the space between them. An offering.

Aiden's gaze flickered down to it.

For a moment, he just stared.

Then—his fingers moved.

A slow, hesitant shift. A moment of indecision.

Then—

His hand covered hers.

Warm. Solid. Real.

Lyra released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

And when Aiden finally looked at her—really looked at her—his voice was barely above a whisper.

"…I don't want to forget again"