MeetingZane
1741 Words
Chapter 2: Meeting Zane
Just as their eyes met — light and darkness bound by something older than time — the air trembled.
And then, everything fell apart.
The brilliance of Luminia and the calm darkness of Umbra folded into each other, collapsing like dying stars. My breath caught as the world shattered into a thousand shards of color — and I woke up.
---
I gasped, clutching my blanket, my heart pounding like a drum.
Moonlight spilled through the window, pooling on the wooden floor. The room was quiet except for the rhythmic ticking of the old clock and the soft hum of Grandma’s lullaby coming from the chair beside my bed.
She looked up and smiled. “You saw them again, didn’t you?”
I nodded weakly, still trying to separate dream from reality. “Zane and Luna… they almost met this time, Grandma. Almost.”
Her wrinkled fingers brushed a strand of hair from my face. “Ah, the children of the sun and moon. Their love dances between worlds. It is said they will keep meeting in dreams until one who carries both light and darkness brings their tale to an end.”
I tilted my head, confused. “One who carries both?”
Grandma only smiled, her eyes glinting with something I didn’t understand. “You’ll know when you’re older, my dear. For now, sleep.”
But sleep didn’t come easily that night. Even at ten, I could still feel the warmth of the sun and the chill of the moon inside me — as though their story had etched itself into my soul.
---
The dreams didn’t stop.
When I turned twelve, I saw Zane again — walking through golden fields of light, his eyes searching for someone beyond the horizon. The sunlight followed him wherever he went, wrapping around him like a faithful shadow.
Then the dream shifted, and I saw Luna — standing at the edge of a silver lake in Umbra. The moon reflected perfectly upon the water, yet her reflection was missing. She dipped her hand in, and the lake rippled with sorrow.
I woke with tears on my cheeks.
---
At fifteen, the dreams grew stronger.
This time, I found myself at the bridge between realms — one half bathed in sunlight, the other drenched in moonlight. The two immortals stood on opposite sides, reaching for each other across the divide. Their hands glowed as they drew near.
Just as their fingers brushed, a wind tore through the dream. The bridge shattered. They were ripped apart again, their voices fading in echoes of pain and longing.
I woke up trembling, whispering their names in the dark.
Zane. Luna.
Why did their story always end the same?
---
By seventeen, I had memorized every detail of their world — every glimmer, every whisper. The dreams no longer felt like stories. They felt like memories.
One night, I dreamed of a bustling market — the same one from before. People of every race and realm crowded the streets, shouting, laughing, bartering beneath banners of gold and silver.
“Immortality candles! Five gold coins each!”
“Heart-calming grass! Two bundles for a quarter gold!”
The sound of life and commerce filled the air. The scent of spice and smoke stung my nostrils.
And there they were again — Zane and Luna — drawn toward one another by some invisible force. The carriage thundered through the street, dust and panic rising, just as before.
My heart clenched as I whispered, “Not again…”
But the moment froze. The light fractured. And I woke.
Again.
---
Morning sunlight filtered through my curtains, brushing against the piles of books and scattered notes on my desk. For a moment, I sat in silence, staring at the cream-colored envelope that had arrived the day before.
My hands trembled slightly as I reached for it — still half caught between dream and waking.
The seal bore the emblem of an open book crowned by stars. Beneath it, in neat black letters, was my name:
Lillian Brightwood — Admitted to the University of Silverpine.
I traced the ink with my fingers, hardly believing it.
Eighteen years old. A new beginning. Yet the same dream still haunted me — repeating, reshaping, like it was waiting for something.
Grandma’s voice echoed faintly in my memory:
> “They will keep meeting in dreams, until one who carries both light and darkness brings their tale to an end.”
I looked toward the window. The morning sun had just risen, and the pale moon still lingered faintly in the sky — the two lights sharing the heavens for a fleeting moment.
A smile touched my lips. “Maybe it’s my turn now,” I whispered.
And for the first time, I felt it — that subtle warmth and chill, sunlight and moonlight weaving through my heart — as if the dream was following me into the waking world.
The registration hall was loud, hot, and crowded. Students pushed and shuffled in long lines, clutching files, forms, and admission letters like lifelines. The scent of sweat, paper, and newly polished floors mixed uneasily in the air.
I was half-distracted, staring at the endless queue ahead, when I saw him.
For a moment, I thought my mind was playing tricks again.
He stood near the exit, tall and composed, sunlight spilling across his hair — a golden halo, almost. His profile was sharp, familiar, and utterly impossible. His eyes, when he turned slightly, caught the light just right, and they gleamed an unmistakable azure blue.
My heart skipped.
“Zane…” I whispered under my breath.
He was there — the same calm aura, the same quiet grace I had seen in my dreams a hundred times over. But this wasn’t Luminia. This wasn’t a dream. This was the university registration hall — noisy, real, and impossibly ordinary.
I tried to move toward him, pushing through the crowd, but the press of students held me back. By the time I reached the corridor, he was gone.
For the rest of the day, I told myself I had imagined it. That it was just another echo from my dreams — the final trick my mind was playing before I stepped fully into reality.
But the next morning proved me wrong.
---
Classes hadn’t even begun, and the campus was already alive — laughter echoing down walkways, students posing for pictures near the fountain, others lugging suitcases to their hostels. I was walking back from the administrative office when I saw him again.
This time, it was through the tinted window of a sleek black car parked near the faculty building.
He was in the back seat, leaning against the window, his eyes half-closed, as if deep in thought. The car engine purred softly, and before I could take a step forward, it pulled away.
I stood there, frozen, my reflection fading on the glass door beside me.
He was real.
And suddenly, curiosity — no, something deeper — took hold of me.
---
At first, I told myself I wasn’t stalking him. I was just… curious.
I began noticing things: the way he always walked alone after lectures, his habit of stopping by the campus library every evening, how he’d often sit beneath the old maple tree near the central courtyard, eyes fixed on the setting sun.
He seemed distant — too calm, too composed — like he carried a piece of another world with him.
Days turned into weeks, and my curiosity grew restless.
Then one afternoon, as I hid behind the pillar outside the library, pretending to scroll through my phone, I realized too late that he had seen me.
“Are you following me?”
His voice was exactly as I’d imagined it — soft but steady, carrying a hint of authority that made my pulse jump.
I froze. “N-no, I was just—”
He crossed his arms, studying me with quiet amusement. “Let me guess. You’ve seen me before. Somewhere.”
His words struck like lightning.
My mouth opened, but no sound came out.
The corners of his lips lifted in a faint smile. “You’re not the first. People tend to… imagine things.”
Something in his tone told me he didn’t fully believe that either.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, my face burning. “I just— you looked familiar. I must’ve mistaken you for someone else.”
He watched me for a long moment, as though searching for something behind my eyes. Then he nodded slowly. “Maybe. Or maybe we’ve met somewhere we can’t remember.”
The words sent a strange chill down my spine.
Before I could reply, he turned and began walking away.
“Wait!” I called. “I didn’t get your name.”
He glanced over his shoulder, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Zane.”
The world tilted slightly.
Zane.
---
After that day, everything changed.
We started talking — sometimes by accident, sometimes by intention. He was quiet but intelligent, often sketching strange symbols in his notebooks or staring at the horizon like he was trying to see something far beyond it.
He said he didn’t remember much from his childhood — only fragments of light and sound. And when I told him about my recurring dream, his eyes widened.
“You saw me there,” he said slowly. “And I saw you too.”
My breath caught. “You… dream it too?”
He nodded, looking down at his hands as if afraid they might start glowing. “The same sun, the same moon. Always reaching. Always failing to meet.”
For a long moment, we just stood there beneath the old maple tree, the sunset spilling gold through the branches.
Around us, campus life carried on — students laughing, the chime of bicycle bells, music drifting from the dormitories — but for me, the world had gone still.
The dreams weren’t just dreams anymore.
And as his gaze met mine — blue as dawn, warm as light — I realized something Grandma had said years ago was coming true:
> “They will keep meeting in dreams, until one who carries both light and darkness brings their tale to an end.”
I didn’t yet understand what that meant.
But I knew the story had only just begun.
:
- Writer
