The Life Meant to Be Lived

The city of Lysira gleamed like it was a precious jewel being cradled in the hands of the gods.

Resting between the glowing mountains and long rivers that would reflect silver under the pale moonlight, it was a city that was known for its celebration of festivals, of even laughter resonating through its marble streets, of music that would spill out from the open windows like air. The people here learned to dance like the world had never known of the word sorrow before. They believed in the light, in kindness as a must, and in second chances.

And in the middle of all this positivity lived Eliane.

She moved through the markets like she belonged to them, she was soft-spoken but radiant like the sun, the kind of beauty that felt… familiar. It wasn't loud nor proud. Just… remembered. Like an old lullaby that someone would hum in a dream. She was kind to strangers, she was good with children, and far too curious for her own safety and that is a nod to her innocence. 

But alas, darkness creeps up when you least expect it. There were constant fleeting moments, they were quiet but lonely moments, it was when she would awaken from her sleep with unknowing tears in her eyes and she would not know why.

She did not know where the root of this sadness came from. Only that it had always been there ever since she was born and it felt like it would never escape her.

She would hear a man's voice sometimes calling out to her in dreams. Though never clearly. Never with a name.

Just please… not this again.

Eliane sat by the fountain at the city center that morning, sunlight was painting gold into her dark curls. She dipped her fingers into the water absently as the bells of Lysira rang out the hour. Her childhood friends were laughing near her while tossing bread crumbs to feed or tease the pigeons and they would gossip about the love letters they would receive or send and magic scrolls, however, Eliane wasn't paying any attention to them.

She was watching a falling leaf spin in the breeze without a single care in the world.

It had no reason to feel significant. But something about watching that leaf spin made her chest tighten which made it hard for her to breathe.

"Lia," her friend Maeren reached out to her, "Why are you off in the clouds again? Talk to me, what is it about?"

Eliane blinked. "Sorry. I just…"

She hesitated. She thought to herself, how could she explain this feeling?

"I just… I don't know, I feel like I've forgotten something important. Very important."

Later that Night

She would light a candle before bed, like she always did. Because the light would calm her in times of sadness.

Her room had a bunch of flowers, mystical spellbooks, and soft fabric. As you would imagine a room made by a dreamer.

As she lays down, she manages to get a quick look of herself in the mirror.

The candle suddenly flickered, it almost went out.

For a fleeting moment, just a breath, her reflection didn't exactly look like… her.

There were shadows consuming her eyes. Her lips were trembling, appearing to be scared, as if they were trying to say the word goodbye to someone. And a figure was standing behind her in the mirror, covered up with smoke.

She blinked, and suddenly it was all over. She had a hard time but she was able to drift off into sleep after a couple of hours.

She always had the same dream.

A rain-soaked field. A voice. A touch.

"Eliane," the man would always whisper.

She turned around to face her, but never saw his face.

When Eliane awoke, she didn't remember the dream.

She never did.

But she would cry into her pillow anyway, her heart aching from a sorrow that she couldn't name.

Outside, the bells of Lysira rang again.

The sun rose.

The city smiled.

And the tether between her soul and the one who remembered quietly pulsed… waiting for their reunion.