The café buzzed with the usual chatter of clinking mugs and murmured conversations. Aria sat at a corner table, her sketchbook open before her. The drawing of the samurai stared back at her. She had planned to paint it, but something held her back—a sense that it wasn’t ready.
Kieran entered the café, a book tucked under his arm. He wasn’t usually one for crowded places, but something had pulled him here. As he scanned the room, his eyes locked on Aria’s sketchbook. The crimson thread on the page sent a shiver down his spine.
“Excuse me,” he said, approaching cautiously. “That drawing... Where did you get the idea for it?”
Aria looked up, startled. “I... I’m not sure. It just came to me.”
Kieran frowned, his gaze fixed on the thread. “Do you know about the myth? The crimson thread of fate?”
Aria shook her head slowly. “I’ve heard bits and pieces, but... Why do you ask?”
Kieran hesitated. “Because it’s not just a story. And I think—” He paused, feeling an inexplicable connection to her. “I think it has something to do with us.”
Aria’s heart raced. For the first time, she felt she wasn’t imagining things.