Chapter 3: The Hollow Silence

The figure didn't respond. It remained still as stone beneath the shroud of moonlight, only the faint breeze teasing the edges of its long coat. Elian's breath caught, suspended in the cold silence.

Then, it turned.

Not quickly. Not ominously. Just enough for her to see the pale outline of a face—angular, ethereal, and hauntingly familiar.

"Wait…" she whispered, her steps moving forward despite the scream of instinct in her chest. "I saw you. In my dream. Or was it a memory?"

She blinked.

The figure was gone.

The shadows swallowed him whole, leaving only the rustle of wind through skeletal branches. A chill swept over her, colder than before, one that reached through her skin into bone. She spun in a slow circle, but the street was empty. No footsteps. No breath. Nothing.

Only the cathedral loomed.

She hesitated. Then crossed the empty plaza and pressed a hand against its great, iron-banded door. It didn't budge. Locked. Her fingers lingered on the ancient wood, still warm beneath her touch. The whispers were louder now, not just around her but inside her, threading through her thoughts like vines reclaiming a ruin.

"Elian…"

A name. Her name. Spoken in that same aching whisper as in the dreams.

And this time, she answered.

"I'm here," she said softly, her forehead resting against the door. "Who are you? Why do I know you?"

There was no response. Only silence.

She stepped back, breath shallow, and finally turned away. Though her heart remained at that door.

The Next Morning

Gray morning light filtered through the window of the inn's breakfast hall, dull and lifeless. Elian stirred her tea with slow, distracted motions, her eyes distant.

"You look like death," Mira said, dropping into the seat beside her. "Did you even sleep?"

"Not really," Elian muttered. "Just dreams again."

"The creepy kind?"

She nodded faintly. "He was there again. Damian."

Mira leaned in. "Okay. Elian. You seriously have to explain this. Who is Damian?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I mean, I didn't. But I think… I think I used to."

Mira stared. "Are you hearing yourself? This is how horror movies start."

"I know how it sounds," Elian said quickly. "But it's not like that. It's like I'm remembering something I never lived through. Like I've been here before."

Mr. Calderon clapped his hands at the head of the room. "Alright, everyone. Up!. Today we'll be touring the catacombs beneath Veyruhn Cathedral. Stay close. No wandering off."

Elian's pulse quickened.

The catacombs…

The air grew colder with every step below the cathedral.

Lanterns flickered against the stone walls, casting shadows that twitched and crawled where they shouldn't. Dust fell like soft ash from above, disturbed by the presence of the living.

Mr. Calderon's voice echoed faintly: "These tombs date back nearly a thousand years, some even older. The original abbey collapsed centuries ago. Much of what lies beneath was never fully mapped."

But Elian barely listened.

Her eyes were drawn to a narrow, arched corridor half-hidden behind a fallen pillar, unnoticed by the others. A hum thrummed in her chest. A pull.

"Elian," Mira hissed, tugging her sleeve. "Don't. Don't even think about it."

But Elian was already stepping through.

"Elian!"

The name came again whispered, mournful, familiar.

"…Elian…"

The archway opened into a low, dust-choked corridor. Her footsteps echoed in the stillness. The deeper she went, the stronger the sensation grew an ache in her chest, a warmth behind her eyes, a grief she couldn't name.

At the end of the hall stood a door stone, carved with an ancient sigil.

She touched it.

"To the blood-bound, forever lost, but never forgotten."

Her hand fit perfectly against the markings.

Click.

The door shifted open with a groan like the earth sighing.

Inside was a chamber of stone coffins. Time had eroded names and meaning from the walls. All but one stood sealed.

Only one lay open.

She stepped forward slowly.

Within bones, not yellowed. Not dry, fresh and Recent.

As if they had just been laid to rest.

Then there was movement.

Not from the coffin. From the wall behind it.

The shadows shimmered, twisted, and formed into the shape of a man.

He stepped out as if born from the stone itself. Dressed in dark, archaic garments. Tall, striking. Familiar.

The man from her dreams.

From the forest.

From her soul.

Damian!!.

"Elian," he said, his voice barely more than breath yet it filled the chamber.

She froze.

Every instinct screamed to run. But her heart, her heart knew him.

"You're real," she whispered.

He nodded slowly. "And so are you."

She took a step closer. "What… are you?"

"I was once a man," he said softly. "Before the blood took me. Before the vow that bound me to this tomb. But you Elian, you are the one who can break it."

She swallowed hard. "Why me?"

Damian looked at her, pain etched in the corners of his eyes. "Because you made the vow with me. Long ago. Before your soul was reborn."

Her knees felt weak.

"I don't remember."

"But your soul does."

Elian stared at him, the silence between them thick with echoes of lifetimes.

"How did we know each other?" she whispered.

Damian stepped closer. He raised a hand but didn't touch her. Not yet. "You were the daughter of a seer, born beneath a blood moon. I was a knight of the Veil Court. A vampire sworn to its laws. We fell in love in a time that forbade it."

"What happened?"

"We made a vow to stay together… even beyond death. But the Court found us. They killed you. And they cursed me to sleep until the vow was broken or fulfilled."

Elian's heart ached. "And now?"

He smiled sad and sweet. "Now you've returned."

The silence that followed was not hollow.

It was whole.

Like the final note of a song sung over centuries.....