Aarav woke to the soft warmth of the morning sun on the window sill, and beside him, Ira stirred peacefully in her sleep. The cottage smelled faintly of earth and honey – the lingering scent of bread baked overnight and herbs drying on the rafters. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the simple comfort of another day beside her. Dawn light spilled golden on the bedroom floor, painting gentle patterns as a bird chirped in the distance, welcoming the new day.
Rising quietly, Aarav eased himself from the bed so as not to disturb Ira. He stole a glance at her silhouette, slender and strong, framed by soft sheets. A familiar swell of contentment and love rose in his chest. Pulling on his linen shirt and trousers, he saw Ira open her eyes and a sleepy smile greeting him. They shared that unspoken understanding, a moment so small it felt sacred – two souls in harmony with the morning.
Aarav poured water from a clay jug into a chipped basin; the sound of trickling water should have been gentle, but in the hushed room it echoed strangely in his ears and pulled him sharply back to the present. He brought a bowl of water to Ira and watched her fold her hands under her chin, yawning softly. The silence of the house pressed against them, warm and heavy. Aarav swallowed, uncertain, as a strange static energy tickled at the edges of his mind, then dissipated.
Ira watched him quietly from the doorway, one hand resting on the frame, her dark hair tousled by sleep. "The dawn is so quiet today, isn't it?" she asked softly. Aarav paused, water halfway to his lips, his heart lurching in his chest. He set the bowl down and looked around the room. In the world he knew, morning should have been alive with birdsong and the rustling of wind, yet everything seemed unnaturally hushed. "Maybe everything is just beginning to wake," he answered softly, hiding the curious tingle crawling along his spine.
Later, in the small kitchen, they busied themselves with breakfast and chores. Aarav gathered fresh milk from the earthen jar and set it on the wooden table with two bowls. He offered Ira the cup first; their hands brushed lightly, fingers lingering on the cool porcelain. She looked at him with curious eyes, as if noticing more than usual.
The cottage window framed a simple view of the garden and beyond, the tall pines and wildflowers bathed in the early sun. Yet as he poured the milk into Ira's bowl, Aarav caught a movement just beyond the garden fence – a flicker of darkness sliding between the sunlit leaves. He froze, but the garden remained empty and peaceful, sunlight unbroken.
The rest of the morning passed slowly. Aarav led Ira out to tend the small plot of vegetables by the cottage. They worked side by side, planting young bean shoots in neat rows. Ira's laugh bubbled up when a rebellious calf rooted its horn beneath the tomato vines, and Aarav chuckled as he lifted a fallen basket of eggs.
Despite their lighthearted tasks, an odd tension underlay the day's calm. At one point, Aarav reached down to inspect the soil around some carrots, and a rustling in the underbrush caught his attention. He tensed and looked up sharply, but saw only a fallen leaf tumbling on the breeze.
Still, a trace of unease lingered at the edge of his senses. He told himself it must be an animal or the wind. "It's nothing," he whispered to himself, though his heart still beat faster.
As the sun began to tilt toward the west, they took a break under the willow tree near the river. Aarav dipped his bare feet in the cool, clear water, marveling at how the soft mud crawled between his toes. Ira sat close on the wooden bench, weaving wildflowers into her hair. She watched Aarav quietly for a moment: the way he habitually squinted against the light, the confidence in his movements, and the familiar curve of laughter at the corners of his eyes.
But there was something else now – a calm in his gaze that hadn't been there yesterday, a stillness in his aura that left her strangely warm. Ira felt it deep in her bones, but said nothing. Only the flicker of a smile played on her lips as she tucked a loose strand of flower behind her ear, as if to keep a secret.
Dusk found them returning home. The sky burned pink and violet, and the air carried a sweet tang of woodsmoke as villagers lit fires in their hearths. Aarav lit the lanterns in their cottage, his hands steady, and watched the gentle glow bloom around them.
The world outside their little haven quieted. Once more, the silence had returned: even the crickets waited to begin their song. Aarav stood on the porch, gazing up at the first stars pricking through the twilight. He felt a warmth in his chest, a longing and a recognition – as if each star was a fragment of something he once loved. Somewhere in the distance, a faint, distant melody drifted on the breeze, a tune of old magic that went unnoticed by all but him.
He lay in bed, but his mind refused to rest. The day's quiet weight pressed around him even as sleep eluded his eyes. When dreams finally took him, they were vivid.
Aarav found himself standing on a white precipice under a swirling sky of stars. Shapes formed out of the starlight – wings, crowns, and voices calling his name from a distance. He reached out to them, but the figures dissolved like mist at his fingertips. Aarav woke with a start in the night, heart pounding. The fleeting glimpse of something vast and familiar lingered only in the haze of memory as he lay awake watching the moon move silently across the sky.
---
Somewhere far from hearth and dream, Kael stirred in the shadowed realm between worlds. His form was pale and fluid, half-formed like smoke given shape. He wandered through a darkness so thick it felt almost warm, senses straining toward the mortal plane. He could feel it: a faint pulse of power, a whisper of something divine lingering just beyond the veil. A smile crept across his thin lips as he whispered the name he had not spoken aloud since creation. "Aarav."
He drifted toward the memory of that name, and the realm around him shivered. Almost there. Yet each time he neared the source, the light twisted away, hiding as if afraid. Frustration stirred in Kael's black eyes.
The scent of divinity grew stronger, brushing against his mind like a current he could not quite reach. He reached out with his will, probing the countryside beneath him, sense by sense, mind by mind – but came up empty. Some instinct told him the creature he sought was walking there, just beyond the wall of worlds that kept him at bay.
Kael's laugh answered back, low and malevolent. "So it begins," he murmured to the silence around him. "The old lights stir at last." His eyes glowed briefly as a strange heat pulsed through his chest, and he dissolved into the void once more, leaving behind only a faint, echoing chuckle that faded into the coming dawn.