Tied by Fate Bound by Time

The fog had arrived early that morning, curling through the campus like an old secret finally finding its way home.

Luna Hart stood at the edge of the quad, her scarf pulled tight around her neck. The cold didn't touch her skin. What weighed on her chest was heavier than frost—it was everything that had unraveled in the last few days.

The scroll.

The dreams.

Asher Thorne.

None of it made sense.

And yet… all of it did.

She moved slowly along the cobbled path, boots crunching over brittle, frost-kissed leaves. The air smelled like old paper and smoke—just like the night she first opened the scroll.

She hadn't meant to.

But curiosity had outweighed caution.

And now the symbols were carved into her mind, stitched into dreams that didn't belong to her. Crimson skies. Golden fire. Voices screaming her name in languages she'd never learned.

And Asher…

He wasn't just a rival with a perfect GPA and a storm for a face. Her instincts told her something else. Something older. Deeper.

Something frighteningly familiar.

---

By the time she reached the lecture hall, Luna was already tired—and she hadn't even gone inside yet.

She slipped into her usual seat in the back. Professor Klein was already talking, his voice echoing through the space with something about early Renaissance symbolism and ritualistic rites.

Normally, she'd be scribbling furious notes.

Today, her pen barely moved.

Her eyes kept drifting forward.

To him.

Asher sat two rows ahead, slightly to the right. Same black hoodie. Same infuriatingly effortless hair. Same sharp jawline that seemed to have been sculpted for the express purpose of irritating her.

But he never turned around.

Not once.

And that bothered her more than it should've.

After everything—the heat between their palms, the crackling air, the way her name had echoed in his dream—she'd expected something. A glare. A sarcastic jab. A warning.

Instead, she got silence.

He sat straight-backed, taking notes with mechanical precision.

Like nothing had happened.

Like she hadn't mattered.

Luna's jaw tightened. She hated how much space he occupied in her head. How even the twitch of his fingers made her heart skip unevenly.

And still, she watched him.

And wondered why he wasn't watching her back.

---

When class ended, Luna bolted. She needed space. Air. Logic.

But fate, as always, had other ideas.

"Luna."

His voice froze her mid-step.

She turned too fast and nearly slipped. Asher stood just a few feet away, hands in his coat pockets, expression unreadable.

He wasn't smirking.

Wasn't cold.

He just… existed.

"You've been avoiding me," he said.

She blinked. Then scoffed. "You've been ignoring me."

His brow arched. "I thought that's what you wanted."

She threw her hands up. "Well, I changed my mind."

The words fell into the space between them—loud, raw, too honest.

Students passed by in a blur, but all she saw was him.

Asher stepped forward, lowering his voice. "You need to stop reading that scroll."

Her heart skipped. "I didn't read it," she said. "I opened it."

He winced. "That's worse."

"I'm not imagining things," she said quietly. "Something's happening. You know it, too."

He didn't argue.

Didn't mock her.

Didn't retreat.

Instead, he leaned in. "I had a dream," he said. "There was fire. A ring. You were standing in it."

Luna's breath caught.

"I've had that dream," she whispered.

For the first time in days, he looked shaken.

Not confused.

Not annoyed.

Afraid.

He rubbed the back of his hand like it still stung. "We need to talk."

"No," Luna said softly. "We need to remember. Whatever this is... it didn't start with the scroll. It started a long time ago."

---

That night, Luna locked her bedroom door.

Candles flickered on every surface, casting molten light across the walls. The scroll lay unfurled in the center of her bed, glowing faintly beneath the flames.

She shouldn't open it again.

She knew that.

But she couldn't stop herself.

Her fingers hovered over the symbols. They pulsed faintly beneath her touch—cool and alive, like veins beneath skin.

She traced one.

The room vanished.

---

She stood in a stone temple, its walls draped in crimson banners, golden flames roaring from deep-set braziers. Her robes were dark and heavy. Her hands glowed, golden light bleeding from her palms.

Before her, a man knelt in chains. Blood ran from his lip. His face was bruised.

But his eyes...

Silver-blue.

Exactly like Asher's.

He looked up—not in fear. In defiance.

Pain.

Recognition.

She raised her hands. Magic surged from her fingers.

And she spoke:

> "Let your soul wander for a hundred lives—until you find the one who sets you free."

The air shattered like glass.

The man screamed.

The vision cracked—splintered—

And Luna slammed back into her own body, falling against her bed, gasping. Her hands were cold. Too cold.

The candle beside her flickered violently—

—then went out.

---

Across the city, Asher Thorne jolted awake.

Sweat soaked through his shirt. His breath came ragged. His heart slammed against his ribs like it wanted out.

His hand ached.

He looked down.

In his palm—impossibly—was the ring he'd lost weeks ago.

Simple bronze.

Carved with a symbol he still didn't understand.

It glowed.

And it was warm.

Not metal-warm.

Alive-warm.

He sat upright, hands trembling. The dream clung to him—chains, fire, a woman's voice laced with power and sorrow.

He didn't need to ask who she was.

He already knew.

Luna.

---

Later that night, Luna stood at her window, arms wrapped tight across her chest. Fog pooled beneath the streetlights like something alive, something ancient.

She touched her heart.

The echo of the burn was still there—not physical, not magical.

Emotional.

She had cursed him.

In another life.

With her own hands.

And now he was here.

And so was she.

Whatever this was—whatever they were tangled in—it was only beginning.

She closed her eyes, forehead pressed to the cold glass.

And one thought whispered through her like smoke:

> What if the only way to break the curse…

is to fall for him again?

---

End of Chapter