Echoes of Yesterday

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of stolen glances and racing hearts. Zephyrian found himself unable to concentrate on anything except the girl sitting three seats ahead of him by the window. Lunaria Shin—even her name felt like music on his tongue, a melody he'd been humming his entire life without knowing the words.

Every few minutes, she would turn slightly in her seat, and their eyes would meet across the classroom. Each time, it felt like lightning striking the same place twice—a jolt of recognition so profound it made his breath catch. Her midnight eyes held the same bewilderment he felt, the same impossible certainty that they had known each other long before this moment.

"Dude, you're staring," Orion whispered, leaning over during their mathematics lesson. "Like, seriously obvious staring. Mrs. Kim is going to notice if you don't—"

"Mr. Kae," Mrs. Kim's sharp voice cut through the classroom like a blade. "Since you seem so fascinated by something other than quadratic equations, perhaps you'd like to solve this problem on the board?"

Heat flooded Zephyrian's cheeks as snickers rippled through the room. He stood on unsteady legs, acutely aware of Lunaria's gaze following his movement. The equation on the board seemed to swim before his eyes, but muscle memory kicked in—he'd always been good at mathematics, even when his mind was elsewhere.

As he worked through the problem, his hand moved almost of its own accord, the chalk scratching against the blackboard in familiar patterns. But when he stepped back to check his work, his blood ran cold.

There, woven seamlessly into his mathematical calculations, was the same symbol from the hallway. The interlocking circles and lines seemed to pulse with the same ethereal light, though now they appeared to be made of simple chalk dust.

"Interesting approach," Mrs. Kim said slowly, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "The answer is correct, but these... decorative elements... are quite unusual."

Zephyrian stared at the board in horror. He had no memory of drawing the symbol—his hand had moved without conscious thought, as if guided by some force beyond his control. The other students were murmuring among themselves, some pointing at the design with obvious recognition.

"It's the same symbol from the hallway," a girl whispered.

"How did he know about it?" another student asked.

"Maybe he's the one who's been drawing them," someone suggested, and Zephyrian's stomach dropped.

"I didn't—" he began, but Mrs. Kim waved him back to his seat.

"Please erase the board and return to your desk, Mr. Kae," she said, her tone carefully neutral. "We'll discuss your... artistic flourishes... after class."

With trembling hands, Zephyrian grabbed the eraser and began wiping away his work. But the symbol seemed reluctant to disappear, clinging to the board like it had a life of its own. He scrubbed harder, and finally, the last traces vanished, leaving only the faint smell of chalk dust and something else—something that reminded him of moonlight and jasmine.

As he returned to his seat, Lunaria turned to face him fully for the first time. Her expression was a mixture of concern and something that looked almost like... recognition? She mouthed a single word: "Later."

The promise in that simple word sent both anticipation and anxiety coursing through his veins.

Lunch period at Seraphim High School was a carefully orchestrated social ballet. The cafeteria, with its soaring ceilings and walls of windows that offered stunning views of the city beyond, buzzed with the energy of hundreds of conversations happening simultaneously. Students clustered at tables according to invisible but immutable social hierarchies—the athletes dominating the center tables, the artists and musicians claiming the spots near the windows, the academic overachievers huddled together with their textbooks and packed lunches.

Zephyrian followed Orion through the maze of tables, his tray balanced precariously in hands that wouldn't quite stop shaking. The incident in mathematics class had left him feeling raw and exposed, as if everyone could see straight through to the confusion and fear swirling in his chest.

"Don't worry about Mrs. Kim," Orion said cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to his friend's distress. "She's always grumpy about something. Last week, she gave Minho detention for breathing too loudly during a test. I swear, that woman has supernatural hearing."

They settled at a table near the large windows, where the afternoon sun painted everything in shades of gold and amber. Zephyrian picked at his lunch without appetite, his eyes scanning the cafeteria for a familiar cascade of ebony hair.

"Looking for someone?" Orion asked, following his gaze. "Oh, wait. Let me guess—a certain artistic goddess with midnight eyes and a smile that could stop traffic?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Zephyrian muttered, but his cheeks betrayed him with a telltale flush.

"Uh-huh. Sure you don't." Orion grinned. "For what it's worth, she's been looking for you too. I saw her scanning the cafeteria when she came in with her friends. Speaking of which..."

He nodded toward the entrance, where a group of students had just appeared. Zephyrian's heart stuttered to a stop as he spotted Lunaria among them, her school blazer replaced by a soft lavender cardigan that made her look like she'd stepped out of a painting. She was laughing at something one of her friends had said, and the sound was like silver bells chiming in the wind.

"That's her squad," Orion explained, settling back in his chair like he was about to provide commentary on a particularly interesting sporting event. "The blonde girl is Aurelia Jang—she's been Lunaria's best friend since they were kids. Super sweet, but she's got this weird sixth sense about people. Like, she can tell if someone's lying just by looking at them."

Zephyrian studied the girl in question. Aurelia was petite and delicate, with golden hair that caught the light like spun silk and eyes the color of spring violets. There was something ethereal about her, as if she might vanish at any moment like morning mist.

"The tall guy with the serious expression is Phoenix Choi," Orion continued. "Star of the basketball team, but he's not your typical jock. Dude's got a mysterious past—transferred here sophomore year and never talks about where he came from. And the girl with the short black hair is Celeste Park. She's... well, she's weird in the best possible way. Always knows things she shouldn't know, if you catch my drift."

Zephyrian watched the group settle at a table across the cafeteria, noting how the other students seemed to give them a wide berth. Not out of fear or dislike, but out of a kind of reverence, as if they were looking at something too beautiful and otherworldly to approach.

"They're all gorgeous," he observed, though his eyes remained fixed on Lunaria. "Like, unnaturally so."

"Right? It's like someone collected all the most beautiful people in Seoul and put them in one friend group. And the weird part is, they all transferred here around the same time—well, except for Lunaria. She's been here forever, but the others all showed up within the last two years."

Something about that information sent a chill down Zephyrian's spine, though he couldn't say why. Before he could analyze the feeling further, Aurelia looked up and her violet eyes met his across the cafeteria. For a moment, her expression was unreadable. Then she smiled—a slow, knowing smile that made his pulse quicken—and whispered something to Lunaria.

Lunaria's head snapped up, and their eyes locked once again. The noise of the cafeteria faded to a distant hum as the world narrowed to just the two of them. He could see her lips part slightly, as if she were about to speak, even though they were separated by dozens of tables and hundreds of students.

"Come to me," her voice whispered in his mind, though he could see her lips weren't moving. "We need to talk."

The words hit him like a physical blow, and his tray clattered to the table as his hands jerked involuntarily. Orion looked at him with concern, but Zephyrian barely noticed. Had he imagined Lunaria's voice in his head? Or was something far stranger happening?

"Dude, are you okay?" Orion asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine," Zephyrian managed, though his voice sounded strange even to his own ears. "Just... tired."

But even as he spoke, he was rising from his seat, drawn by an invisible force toward the table where Lunaria sat. His feet moved without conscious direction, carrying him across the cafeteria as if he were sleepwalking. Other students turned to watch his progress, and he could feel their whispers following in his wake.

"Zephyrian," Lunaria breathed as he approached their table. Her friends looked up at him with expressions ranging from curiosity to something that looked almost like... expectation?

"Hi," he said, feeling suddenly awkward under the weight of their collective gaze. "I'm sorry to interrupt your lunch, but I was wondering if we could... talk?"

Aurelia and Celeste exchanged a meaningful glance, while Phoenix leaned back in his chair with what looked like amusement. It was Aurelia who spoke first, her voice carrying a musical quality that reminded him of wind chimes.

"Of course," she said, standing gracefully. "Celeste, Phoenix, why don't we go get dessert? I heard they have those strawberry tarts today."

"But I'm not done with my—" Celeste began, then stopped abruptly as Aurelia's violet eyes met hers. "Oh. Right. Strawberry tarts. Love those."

They gathered their things with practiced efficiency, leaving Zephyrian alone with Lunaria. He slid into the seat across from her, acutely aware of how their proximity made his skin tingle with an electricity he couldn't name.

"You have questions," Lunaria said softly, her midnight eyes searching his face. "I can see them in your eyes. The same questions I've been asking myself."

"The dreams," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You said you've been dreaming about me."

She nodded, her fingers absently tracing patterns on the table's surface. "Every night for months. Always the same dream—a garden filled with jasmine and moonlight, and you..." She paused, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink. "And you telling me you loved me."

Zephyrian's heart stuttered. "I dream about you too. But in my dreams, something terrible happens. There's blood, and screaming, and..." He couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't give voice to the horror that haunted his sleeping hours.

"And someone we trusted betrays us," Lunaria finished, her voice hollow. "And we die in each other's arms."

The words hung between them like a physical weight, confirming what they both already knew but hadn't dared to speak aloud. They were dreaming of the same events, the same tragedy, the same impossible love story that had ended in blood and tears.

"This is insane," Zephyrian said, running his hands through his hair. "People don't just... dream about past lives. That's not how the world works."

"Isn't it?" Lunaria asked, and there was something in her voice that made him look at her more closely. "Then explain the pendant."

She reached into her cardigan and pulled out the silver chain he'd noticed that morning. The crescent moon and star pendant caught the light, seeming to glow with its own inner fire. But it wasn't the pendant that made his breath catch—it was the recognition that slammed into him like a physical blow.

"I gave that to you," he whispered, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "On your eighteenth birthday. I had it made by the court jeweler, and I told you it would keep you safe when I couldn't be there to protect you."

Lunaria's eyes widened. "How could you possibly know that? I've had this pendant my entire life. My parents said it was a family heirloom, but I've always known it was more than that. It gets warm when I'm in danger, and sometimes, when I touch it, I can hear your voice."

Zephyrian stared at the pendant, memories flooding back with startling clarity. He could see himself in another life, another time—a young man with the same amber eyes but dressed in clothes that belonged to a different century. He could remember the weight of the pendant in his hands, the way Lunaria's face had lit up when he'd given it to her, the promise he'd made to love her forever.

"This is impossible," he said, but even as he spoke, he knew it was true. Somehow, against all logic and reason, they had found each other again.

"Is it?" Lunaria asked, echoing his earlier question. "Or is it just impossible to explain?"

Before he could answer, the cafeteria lights flickered. Once, twice, then steadied. But in those brief moments of darkness, Zephyrian could have sworn he saw something moving in the shadows—a tall figure watching them from across the room.

"Did you see that?" he asked, but when he looked again, there was nothing there except the usual crowd of students finishing their lunches.

Lunaria followed his gaze, her expression suddenly tense. "We should be careful," she said quietly. "I don't think we're the only ones who've been... awakened."

"What do you mean?"

"The symbols appearing around school. The strange dreams other students have been having. The way certain people look at us—like they're waiting for something." She paused, her fingers tightening around the pendant. "I think whatever happened to us before, whoever was responsible... they're here too."

A chill ran down Zephyrian's spine as he remembered the cold laughter he'd heard that morning. "You mean our killer?"

"Killers, plural," Lunaria corrected grimly. "And the person who orchestrated it all. I've been having different dreams lately—fragments of memories about the betrayal. There wasn't just one person involved."

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch period, but neither of them moved to leave. The cafeteria began to empty around them, students heading to their afternoon classes, but Zephyrian felt rooted to his seat by the weight of what they'd discovered.

"What do we do?" he asked.

Lunaria was quiet for a long moment, her eyes distant as if she were listening to something only she could hear. When she finally spoke, her voice was stronger, more determined.

"We remember," she said. "We piece together what happened before, and we make sure it doesn't happen again. But we have to be smart about it. If they're really here, if they're really watching us, then we can't let them know we're remembering."

"How do we do that?"

A small smile played at the corners of her lips—the first genuine smile he'd seen from her all day. "We act like normal teenagers. We go to class, we do our homework, we..." She paused, her cheeks flushing again. "We get to know each other again."

"Are you asking me out, Lunaria Shin?" Zephyrian asked, surprised by his own boldness.

Her smile widened, and for a moment, she looked less like a mysterious reincarnated soul and more like the eighteen-year-old girl she was supposed to be. "Maybe I am, Zephyrian Kae. What are you going to do about it?"

Before he could answer, she stood gracefully and gathered her things. "Meet me in the art room after school," she said. "I want to show you something."

She started to walk away, then paused and looked back at him. "And Zephyrian? Whatever happens, whatever we discover about our past... I want you to know that I'm glad you found me again."

With that, she disappeared into the crowd of students, leaving Zephyrian alone at the table with his racing heart and a thousand questions. But underneath the confusion and fear, there was something else—a warmth that had nothing to do with the afternoon sun streaming through the windows.

Hope.

The afternoon classes passed in a haze of anticipation and nervous energy. Zephyrian found himself watching the clock obsessively, counting down the minutes until he could see Lunaria again. His teachers' voices became background noise as his mind replayed their conversation, analyzing every word, every gesture, every fleeting expression.

In Korean History, he stared at the textbook's description of the Joseon Dynasty and felt a strange flutter of recognition. The names and dates seemed familiar, as if he'd lived through them rather than simply studied them. When the teacher mentioned the court ceremonies and elaborate clothing of the period, he could almost feel the weight of silk robes on his shoulders and the press of a ceremonial sword at his hip.

"Mr. Kae," the teacher's voice cut through his reverie. "Since you seem so interested in our discussion of court life, perhaps you'd like to share your thoughts on the social hierarchy of the period?"

Zephyrian blinked, realizing that the entire class was staring at him. He should have been embarrassed, should have stammered out an apology and admitted he hadn't been paying attention. Instead, words began flowing from his lips as if he were reciting from memory.

"The court was divided into strict social classes," he heard himself saying, his voice carrying an odd authority. "The royal family at the top, followed by the high-ranking officials and their families. Below them were the scholars and minor bureaucrats, then the artisans and merchants. But the real power often lay not in official titles, but in personal relationships and family alliances."

He paused, something like a memory flickering at the edge of his consciousness. "The most dangerous people were often those who appeared to be allies. A trusted friend could become a deadly enemy with just a few whispered words in the right ear."

The teacher nodded approvingly, but Zephyrian barely heard the praise. Where had those words come from? He'd studied Korean history before, but not in the kind of detail that would allow him to speak with such confidence about court intrigue.

The final bell of the day rang with the sweet clarity of liberation. Zephyrian practically bolted from his seat, earning amused looks from his classmates as he gathered his things with unseemly haste. Orion appeared at his side as he headed for the door.

"Whoa there, speed demon," his friend said with a grin. "What's the rush? Hot date?"

"Something like that," Zephyrian muttered, shouldering his bag.

"With a certain artistic goddess, perhaps?" Orion's grin widened. "Dude, you work fast. It's only your first day, and you're already—"

"It's not what you think," Zephyrian interrupted, then realized he had no idea how to explain what it actually was. "It's... complicated."

"Uh-huh. Sure it is." Orion waggled his eyebrows. "Well, whatever it is, be careful. There's something about that girl—about all of them, really—that's not quite normal. I mean, they're all gorgeous and talented and seemingly perfect, but there's something else. Something that makes me feel like I'm looking at a beautiful painting behind bulletproof glass."

Zephyrian frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know how to explain it. It's like they're all playing roles, you know? Like they're pretending to be normal teenagers, but underneath, they're something else entirely." Orion shrugged. "Maybe I'm just being paranoid. Or maybe I'm jealous that I'm not mysteriously beautiful and talented like the rest of you."

"The rest of us?"

"Come on, man. You think I haven't noticed? You're not exactly normal either. The way you talked in history class just now—it was like you were there, experiencing it firsthand. And don't even get me started on the whole symbol thing in math class."

Zephyrian's stomach tightened. "You think I'm the one who's been drawing those symbols?"

"I think you're connected to them somehow," Orion said seriously. "But that doesn't mean you're doing it consciously. There's something weird going on at this school, and you and Lunaria and her friends are right in the center of it."

Before Zephyrian could respond, Orion's expression shifted back to its usual cheerful mask. "But hey, what do I know? I'm just a regular guy who's probably watching too many supernatural dramas. Go have fun with your mysterious goddess, and try not to get cursed or possessed or whatever."

With that parting shot, Orion headed off toward the school's main entrance, leaving Zephyrian alone with his swirling thoughts. His friend's words echoed in his mind as he made his way toward the art building. Was it really so obvious that something strange was happening? And if Orion could see it, how long before others—potentially dangerous others—noticed as well?

The art building was quieter than the main school, with longer shadows and a sense of creative energy that seemed to hum in the very walls. Zephyrian found the art room easily, drawn by the sound of soft music and the faint scent of paint and turpentine.

He paused in the doorway, his breath catching at the sight before him. Lunaria stood at an easel near the windows, her dark hair pulled back in a loose bun that left delicate wisps framing her face. She'd changed from her school uniform into a flowing white dress that made her look like a classical statue come to life. Her fingers moved across the canvas with sure, graceful strokes, and there was something almost magical about the way she worked.

"Don't just stand there," she said without looking up. "Come in."

Zephyrian stepped into the room, his eyes immediately drawn to the paintings that covered nearly every available surface. The artwork was extraordinary—not just technically skilled, but imbued with an emotional depth that made each piece feel alive. Landscapes that seemed to breathe, portraits that followed him with their eyes, abstract pieces that made his soul ache with their beauty.

"These are incredible," he breathed, stopping before a painting of a moonlit garden that made his heart skip a beat. "Is this...?"

"From my dreams," Lunaria confirmed, finally turning to face him. "I've been painting them for years, long before I understood what they meant. My parents thought I was just being creative, but I always knew they were memories."

Zephyrian studied the painting more closely. Every detail was perfect—the way the moonlight caught the edges of the jasmine flowers, the ancient stone bench where they'd sat together, the fountain that had sung its eternal song in the background of their whispered conversations.

"I know this place," he said softly. "We used to meet here. It was our secret garden."

"The Palace of Eternal Spring," Lunaria said, coming to stand beside him. "That's what you called it. You said it was the most beautiful place in all the kingdom, but not half as beautiful as I was."

A flush crept up Zephyrian's neck. "I said that?"

"You said a lot of things," she replied with a small smile. "You were quite the romantic, Prince Zephyrian."

The title hit him like a physical blow. "Prince?"

"You don't remember?" Lunaria studied his face with concern. "You were the crown prince. I was the daughter of the court's master artist. We weren't supposed to fall in love, but we did anyway."

Images flashed through Zephyrian's mind—golden throne rooms, elaborate ceremonies, the weight of responsibility on his young shoulders. And through it all, a girl with midnight eyes who had been his refuge from the suffocating expectations of royal life.

"The betrayal," he said suddenly. "Someone close to us. Someone we trusted."

Lunaria nodded grimly. "Your cousin, Prince Caspian. He was in line for the throne after you, but he wasn't content to wait. He convinced us to meet him in the garden one night, said he had information about a plot against us."

"But it was a trap."

"The deadliest kind. He brought soldiers with him, and..." She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

"And I died trying to protect you," Zephyrian completed, the memory surfacing with startling clarity. "But I failed."

"You didn't fail," Lunaria said fiercely. "You loved me. That's all that mattered."

They stood in silence for a long moment, the weight of their shared tragedy hanging between them like a living thing. Finally, Lunaria moved to another painting—this one showing a young man with familiar amber eyes and a girl who looked exactly like her, both dressed in elaborate court robes.

"I painted this last week," she said quietly. "Before I knew who you were. Before I understood what it meant."

In the painting, the two figures were dancing in what appeared to be a grand ballroom. Their faces were radiant with joy, and they looked at each other as if they were the only two people in the world. But in the background, barely visible in the shadows, stood a figure with cold eyes and a cruel smile.

"That's him," Zephyrian said, pointing to the shadowy figure. "That's Caspian."

"And if he's been reincarnated like us..." Lunaria began.

"Then he's here. At this school. Possibly watching us right now."

The thought sent a chill through both of them. Zephyrian found himself moving closer to Lunaria, an instinctive need to protect her rising in his chest. She seemed to sense his nearness, turning to face him with an expression that was both vulnerable and determined.

"What do we do?" he asked.

"We be careful," she said. "We learn to control whatever abilities we might have inherited from our past lives. And we figure out who he is before he figures out who we are."

"Abilities?"

Instead of answering, Lunaria held out her hand, palm up. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, a small flame appeared in her palm—not orange or red, but a pure silver light that seemed to dance with its own inner music.

"I've been able to do this since I was a child," she said softly. "My parents think it's just a clever trick with chemicals, but I know better. It's part of who I was before."

Zephyrian stared at the flame, mesmerized. Without thinking, he reached out and touched it. Instead of burning him, the silver light seemed to recognize him, leaping from her palm to his and growing brighter.

"We're connected," he breathed. "Even across lifetimes, we're still connected."

"Always," Lunaria whispered. "That's why we found each other again. That's why we'll always find each other."

The flame flickered and died, but the warmth it had generated remained, spreading through both of them like a promise. Zephyrian found himself leaning closer, drawn by the magnetic pull that had existed between them for centuries.

"Lunaria," he said softly, her name a prayer on his lips.

"I know," she replied, her midnight eyes reflecting the last of the afternoon light. "I feel it too."

They were inches apart now, their hearts beating in perfect synchronization. The air between them seemed to shimmer with possibility, with the promise of a love that had transcended death itself.

But before their lips could meet, the sound of slow clapping echoed through the art room.

They sprang apart, turning toward the source of the sound. A figure stood silhouetted in the doorway—tall, elegant, with perfectly styled hair and a smile that was both charming and somehow predatory.

"Bravo," the figure said, stepping into the light. "What a touching reunion. I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever remember."

Zephyrian's blood ran cold as recognition slammed into him. The face was different—younger, more conventionally handsome—but the eyes were the same. Cold, calculating, filled with an ambition that had already cost them everything once before.

"Caspian," he whispered.

The young man's smile widened. "Prince Caspian, if you please. Though I suppose in this lifetime, I go by Caspian Wren. Student Council President, honor student, and your worst nightmare."

Lunaria stepped closer to Zephyrian, her hand finding his. "What do you want?"

"The same thing I've always wanted," Caspian replied. "What was rightfully mine. What should have been mine from the beginning."

"You killed us," Zephyrian said, his voice shaking with barely controlled rage. "You murdered us in cold blood."

"I eliminated obstacles," Caspian corrected. "And I'll do it again if necessary. But this time, I thought I'd give you a chance to make things easier for everyone."

"What are you talking about?"

"A deal," Caspian said, his smile never wavering. "Walk away from each other. Live your separate lives. And I'll let you live them."

"Never," Lunaria said fiercely. "We'll never give up each other. Not again."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Caspian replied. "It makes the game so much more interesting."

With that, he turned and walked back toward the door, pausing only to look over his shoulder. "Oh, and Zephyrian? You might want to be more careful about who you trust. History has a way of repeating itself, and some lessons are learned the hard way."

Then he was gone, leaving them alone with the echo of his laughter and the terrible certainty that their nightmare was just beginning.