when the light called her name

Prologue — The Night the Sky Forgot Them The sea was sleeping that night. Not roaring, not whispering — only breathing. Each wave curled softly against the shore, as if afraid to disturb the silence between stars. Mara stood barefoot in the sand, the hem of her dress brushing against the wind, salt clinging to her lips, grief resting in her chest like an unspoken word. She didn’t know why she had come here only that her body had moved before her mind could follow. As if something had called her name in a language she used to know. Then the air split open. At first, she thought it was lightning but lightning doesn’t stand still. It grew brighter, denser, until it shaped itself into the form of a man. A figure made of light , not gold, not white, but the trembling blue of dawn’s first breath. He radiated warmth and distance all at once, like the ghost of a sun that had forgotten how to rise. Mara’s pulse stumbled. Her voice barely found her: “Who are you?” The being tilted his head, and though he had no face, she felt him smile. For a heartbeat, her grief cracked open and in the light, she saw pieces of her own memories that weren’t hers anymore. A child laughing by the shore. Hands brushing over constellations. A promise whispered in the dark. “I remember you,” she breathed. The words left her like confession, fragile, holy. The light flickered and for the briefest second, the man inside it spoke. Not with sound, but through her bones: “I never stopped looking for you.” Then the world folded around them sand became starlight, time became water and everything she thought she knew began to fade. When she opened her eyes, he was still there , brighter, trembling and somewhere deep within her chest, a glow began to answer him back