"Oh well, impressive." I can't avoid to utter as I glanced my eyes all over the venue.

"This should have been another hit if caught in live but it's pause not post for the mean time." I reminded myself.

The gala was supposed to be another brand story—cinematic shots of gowns, champagne glasses catching the light, maybe a dance or two with some CEO desperate to buy relevance through me. I should’ve been thinking about hashtags, filters, the angle of my smile. But all I could think about were those silver eyes. I stood in the middle of the ballroom, trying to ground myself in the swirl of laughter and clinking glasses, but the memory of his voice—low, sure, like he’d known me long before we’d spoken—clung to me like perfume.

Careful what you record here, little Luna. He had called me that like it was fact, not flirtation. And then he’d vanished, leaving me with questions that tangled tighter than the diamond choker at my throat.

“Miss Veyra.” A waiter in crisp black offered me a flute of champagne. I took it gratefully, hoping the fizz would slow my heart. But the glass trembled in my fingers, betraying me.

“First time on Bacnotania?” a voice asked. I turned to find a man in a pale gray suit—polished, charming smile, the kind of guest who knew how to network his way into photos. He extended a hand.

“Eli Santos. Tech investor. And you’re Callie, right? The Callie Veyra? My nieces worship you.”

I slipped into autopilot, shaking his hand, smiling for the moment. “Always happy to meet fans—even secondhand ones.”

He laughed, too loud, and leaned closer. “I have to say, I’m surprised to see you here. This gala isn’t usually for influencers. More…old money circles.”

The way he said it pricked, though his smile stayed smooth. Before I could answer, his gaze flicked past me. His laughter faltered.

“Ah. Speaking of the devil.” I didn’t have to turn to know who had entered our orbit. The air shifted—like gravity had bent.

My pulse stuttered, breath shortening as if my body had already recognized him before my mind could.

Kael Draven.

I turned anyway, slow, deliberate. He was closer now, striding through the crowd with that same predatory ease, and the guests parted as though some primal instinct told them to. His eyes—silver and sharp—locked on me. And once again, I forgot to breathe.

“Mr. Draven.” Eli’s tone had changed—lower, cautious. Respectful, almost fearful. Kael’s gaze slid briefly to him, dismissing him in a glance.

“Santos.” He said the name like a warning before returning his attention to me. The weight of it made Eli excuse himself in seconds, muttering something about champagne refills. I didn’t blame him.

Kael’s presence wasn’t just commanding—it was suffocating.

“You’re frightening your guests,” I murmured, trying for levity, though my voice was softer than I intended.

“They frighten easily,” he said. His eyes traced my face like he was memorizing it. “But you…” His jaw tightened, as though he were restraining himself. “You don’t.”

I almost laughed, except it wasn’t true. He terrified me, but not in the way shadows did. It was a different fear—the kind that made your stomach drop in freefall but left you craving the rush. I shifted, clutching the stem of my glass.

“What did you mean earlier? About me. About the island.”

His lips curved in a faint smile, though it didn’t touch his eyes. “If you’re asking for answers, this isn’t the place.”

“And yet you brought me here,” I countered.

“I wanted to see if you’d feel it.”

I frowned. “Feel what?”

“Home.”

The word struck something deep in me, something I didn’t want to acknowledge. “I’m not from here.”

He tilted his head, studying me. “Aren’t you?”

Before I could form a reply, a woman appeared at his side, slipping her arm through his like she belonged there. She was all sharp cheekbones and scarlet silk, her smile predatory in a way that made the hair rise on the back of my neck.

“Kael,” she purred, ignoring me entirely. “The council is waiting for you. They grow impatient.”

“I’ll come when I choose,” he said without looking at her.

Her smile tightened. Only then did her gaze flick toward me, dismissive at first—until her eyes narrowed, sharpened, and something like hostility rippled in them.

She leaned in closer to him, staking a claim. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said, her tone dipped in venom. “And who might you be?”

“Callie Veyra,” Kael answered for me, still watching me. “Our guest.”

The woman’s eyes darted between us, and for a split second, something dangerous flashed across her face. “Guest,” she repeated, almost like it was an insult. She forced another smile. “How…lovely.”

She tugged at his arm again, but Kael’s attention hadn’t shifted from me. “I’ll return shortly.”

Her expression soured, but she left, her heels clicking sharp against marble. I exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

“Who was that?” I asked.

His expression darkened. “Someone who doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, really? She seemed to think otherwise.”

“She’s irrelevant.” His voice carried an edge, final enough to close the subject, but curiosity still burned in me.

Instead, I drained the last of my champagne and set the glass aside. “So what am I doing here, then? Why invite me?”

Kael’s smile was small, unreadable. “Because whether you admit it or not, you belong here. And sooner or later, you’ll see that.”

“I belong on camera,” I said, defensive. “This—” I gestured at the glittering ballroom, the predatory gazes, the tension threaded through every laugh. “—this isn’t my world.”

“You’re wrong,” he said simply, like stating a fact. And then, without asking, he extended a hand. “Dance with me.”

I stared at his hand, elegant but strong, veins shifting beneath skin that looked made for power. My throat went dry.

“No cameras,” he added softly, almost like a lure. “Just you.”

Something in me cracked. Against all logic, I placed my hand in his. His grip was warm, grounding, but there was fire beneath the touch. He led me to the dance floor, where the string quartet slid seamlessly into a waltz.

The moment his arm settled around my waist, the world shrank. My hand rested on his shoulder, and every nerve in my body screamed awareness. His eyes caught mine—silver burning into brown—and I forgot steps I’d practiced for years.

“You’re trembling,” he said.

“I’m not.”

His lips curved, faint amusement sparking. “You are.”

He guided me effortlessly, his presence so absolute that it felt like resisting would only draw me deeper. My breath hitched when his palm pressed against the small of my back, anchoring me.

“This isn’t real,” I whispered, more to myself than him. He leaned closer, voice brushing my skin.

“It’s the only thing that is.” My chest tightened, betraying me.

“Why me?”

“Because fate doesn’t make mistakes.” I swallowed hard.

“And if I don’t believe in fate?”

“Then it will keep proving itself until you do.”

The intensity in his gaze was unbearable, like he could see every secret I’d ever buried. My walls—the ones I’d spent years building for the camera, for the followers, for survival—felt paper-thin.

But before I could answer, a scream cut through the music. It shattered the moment.

Guests froze, heads whipping toward the grand windows overlooking the forest.

The quartet’s bows screeched to a halt. Another scream—shrill, panicked—ripped through the night. Kael’s expression transformed, all softness gone. His hand tightened on mine.

“Stay close.”

The crowd erupted in chaos—heels clattering, glasses shattering, guests rushing toward the exits. But my eyes locked on the windows.

Movement. Something enormous barreled out of the treeline, fur bristling, teeth flashing in the moonlight. It leapt over the garden wall like it was nothing, crashing into the manicured lawn with a growl that rattled the glass.

Gasps turned into terrified cries. The beast—wolf, but impossibly large—snapped its jaws, eyes glowing red.

My heart pounded. Not silver. Not Kael.

Kael pulled me against him, his voice a low growl in my ear. “Don’t move.”

“Is that—” My words stuck in my throat.

“Rogue,” he spat, eyes blazing.

The wolf lunged, sending bodies scattering. Guests shrieked, tripping over gowns and chairs.

The beast tore through a table, snapping wood like twigs. And then its gaze landed on me.

It froze.

Snarled. Recognition—or hunger—burned in its eyes.

A chill ripped through me, deeper than fear.

The rogue wolf bared its teeth and charged.

Kael shoved me behind him just as the windows shattered inward, glass exploding,

and the beast leapt straight for us—

The moment Callie opened her eyes, the golden sun was already spilling across the wide glass doors of her villa, scattering diamonds of light onto the marble floor. For a second, she forgot where she was. Bacnotania still felt like a fever dream—too vibrant, too alive. The ocean’s steady roar was louder here, punctuated by the faintest hum of cicadas hiding in palm fronds outside.

She rolled onto her side and stretched, phone buzzing softly on the nightstand. Notifications. Always notifications.

“Morning, Queen! Your reel hit 2.1M overnight!”

“Babe, your Bacnotania gown clip is trending globally.”

“Everyone’s saying you look unreal—like a goddess.”

Her lips curved into a practiced smile. She’d worked her whole life for this—millions of strangers hanging on her every post. And yet, when her eyes flicked toward the balcony, that smile faltered.

Something about this island tugged at her bones in ways likes and comments never could.

Callie pushed the covers off and padded barefoot to the balcony. She opened the doors, letting the warm, salt-laced wind wash over her. The air was heavy, thick with scents she couldn’t name—like damp earth after rain, but sharper, wilder. It clung to her skin, sank deep into her lungs.

And then, she heard it.

A low hum. Almost like a growl.

It was faint, hidden beneath the crash of waves, but unmistakable.

Her breath caught. “Okay… that’s creepy.”

She spun, half expecting to see someone behind her. No one. Just the pristine villa, sunlight glinting off the infinity pool below. She shook her head and forced a laugh. “You’re being paranoid, Callie. Get your content, then coffee. That’s the plan.”

---

By midmorning, she was dressed in a flowing white sundress—light enough to flutter with the ocean breeze but cinched perfectly at the waist for that effortless chic aesthetic. Her hair cascaded in soft waves, lips brushed with coral gloss.

Camera mounted. Microphone clipped. The influencer mask slipped back on.

“Good morning, sun chasers,” she cooed into the lens, voice smooth and honeyed. “Today, I’m exploring one of Bacnotania’s most exclusive resorts, hidden along the cliffs of the island. And trust me… this place is unreal.”

She panned the camera over the villa’s view—crystal water shimmering turquoise under the sun, jagged black cliffs rising like guardians around the beach. Her smile widened for the lens, but inside, her chest still felt tight.

As she walked the resort’s winding paths, locals in crisp uniforms greeted her with polite bows and smiles. She returned them with her practiced warmth, but her attention kept slipping elsewhere—to the forest that loomed just beyond the manicured gardens.

The trees were impossibly tall, ancient, their trunks wide enough for three men to wrap their arms around. The leaves whispered in the wind, not like rustling, but like… words.

She froze mid-step, camera still recording.

“…Did anyone else hear that?” she whispered into the mic. Her laugh came too quickly after. “Maybe it’s just me.”

But the sound was still there. Soft, rhythmic. Like chanting.

She tilted the camera toward the forest edge. Shadows stretched unnaturally between the trees, long fingers curling over the ground. She couldn’t see anything moving, yet her pulse leapt, faster, harder.

“Okay, creepy forest. Check,” she muttered, lowering the lens. “We’re done here.”

But her feet didn’t move.

Instead, she found herself drifting closer, as if some magnetic thread was tugging her toward the tree line. Each step deepened the déjà vu. Her skin prickled, her chest tightened, and flashes rippled across her mind—running barefoot under those very trees, breathless laughter, silver eyes glowing in the dark.

What is happening to me?

“Callie?”

The voice snapped her back.

A staff member—a young woman with long black hair pulled into a sleek bun—stood behind her, holding a tray of refreshments. Her expression was polite, but her eyes were wide, watchful.

“You shouldn’t wander near the forest, Miss Veyra,” the woman said softly, almost urgently.

Callie blinked. “Why not?”

The woman hesitated, then forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s easy to get lost. The paths are… not safe.”

Not safe.

The words sent a shiver down Callie’s spine.

But the woman quickly added, “Would you like something to drink? Fresh calamansi juice. Very good for the heat.”

Callie studied her for a moment, but the woman’s composure was unshakable. She accepted the glass with a nod, turning her camera back on with a practiced flourish.

“See, sun chasers? The service here is unbeatable. Fresh juice in paradise. I could definitely get used to this.”

Her smile was flawless, but her hands trembled against the glass.

---

The rest of the morning blurred in a haze of vlogging and staged shots—sunlit pools, exotic dishes, luxury suites. Callie moved through it like muscle memory, every gesture perfect, every laugh melodic. But under the surface, her nerves thrummed like a wire pulled too tight.

Because the forest kept calling.

Even when she sat for lunch overlooking the ocean, the wind carried faint echoes she swore the mic picked up—low growls, hushed whispers, the snapping of twigs.

She replayed the clip on her camera.

At first, nothing. Just her own voice, cheerful and bubbly.

Then—crack. A heavy footstep. Followed by a sound like… breathing.

Her fork clattered against her plate.

“Jesus Christ…” she whispered, pressing the camera closer to her ear. She adjusted the audio, isolating the background track.

The sound was there again. Louder. Ragged. As if something—someone—was watching her, just beyond the frame.

Her stomach twisted.

And then—clear as day—came the faintest murmur: Zyphira.

Callie shot to her feet, chair scraping against the deck.

Nobody looked up. Guests chatted idly around her, sipping wine, laughing. The staff moved with calm efficiency. She was the only one who seemed to hear it.

Her heart pounded as she clutched the camera to her chest.

---

By late afternoon, she was pacing the edge of the pool, phone pressed to her ear.

“Liv, I’m telling you, something’s off about this place,” she whispered.

Her best friend and assistant’s voice crackled on the other end. “Callie, you’re always saying that whenever you’re in some remote paradise. Creepy noises, weird vibes—it’s part of your thing. Your audience eats it up.”

“This isn’t just vibes, Liv. I have it on camera. There was a voice. It said…” She hesitated. Saying it out loud felt like making it real. “It said a name. Zyphira. Do you know how insane that sounds?”

There was silence, then a sigh. “Babe, you’re exhausted. Jet lag, pressure, all that. Take a break, okay? Swim, sleep, drink champagne. Forget the forest.”

Callie chewed her lip. Forgetting was impossible.

“Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll try.”

But when the call ended, her gaze immediately drifted to the treeline again. The sun was sinking, painting the sky in streaks of fire. The forest shadows stretched longer, darker, as if reaching for her.

And she knew, with bone-deep certainty, that something inside those woods was waiting.

---

That evening, dressed in another designer gown, Callie forced herself through the motions of a sunset shoot. She twirled on the beach, laughed at the waves, let the camera catch her glow. But the entire time, her skin tingled, her ears tuned to every shift in the wind.

And then it happened.

A howl split the air.

Low. Powerful. Not far.

The sound froze every muscle in her body.

The camera slipped from her fingers, landing softly on the sand, still recording.

She turned toward the forest.

Another howl rose, answered by a chorus—wild, haunting, and close enough to rattle the ground.

Guests gasped, some pulling out phones, thinking it was just local wildlife. Staff hurried to usher them inside, faces tight with something like fear.

But Callie stood rooted, her pulse thundering.

Because in the fading light, just beyond the tree line, two silver eyes gleamed—locked on hers.

The world narrowed to that single gaze. Cold fire rushed through her veins, her chest tightening like it might burst.

The howls grew louder. The shadows moved. And the last thing she heard before everything drowned in noise was that same word—

Zyphira.

The salt air clung to my skin like a whisper I couldn’t escape. I was halfway down the narrow wooden trail that connected the cliffside to the hidden cove when my sandal slipped on the slick planks.

“Ahh!” I gasped, flailing as the world tilted sideways.

The crashing roar of waves below surged into my ears, and for one breathless second, I was sure I was going to fall. My heart jolted, camera swinging wildly against my chest—until a strong hand clamped around my wrist and yanked me back against a solid chest.

The shock of it knocked the air from me.

“Careful,” a low voice murmured, rough as gravel but somehow steadying.

Kael.

The same man from yesterday—the stranger with the unreadable eyes and that unnerving way of looking at me, as if he already knew me. His grip was firm, almost too firm, and heat shot up my arm where his hand held me.

I blinked up at him, breath uneven. “You—again?”

His jaw tightened. For a moment he didn’t answer, just stared down at me like he was searching for something he wasn’t sure he wanted to find. Then, finally—

“You should watch your step. This path isn’t forgiving.” His words were clipped, but there was something else beneath them—something like… worry?

I tugged my wrist free, even though a strange part of me didn’t want to. “I was doing fine until you appeared out of nowhere.”

He gave a soft, humorless scoff. “You call nearly falling into the ocean fine?”

The tension between us pressed as heavy as the humid air. I crossed my arms, defensive. “Why are you even here? Following me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” His tone was sharp, but his eyes—God, those eyes—flicked briefly to the camera strapped to me, then back to my face. “You don’t belong wandering alone in places you don’t understand.”

Something about the way he said it made my skin prickle. Not just because it sounded protective, but because it carried an edge—like a warning.

I swallowed, trying to steady myself. “I’m not some lost tourist. I’m working.”

His gaze lingered, unreadable. “And what exactly are you working on?”

“Well, in case you dyknow yet, I’m a travel vlogger,” I said quickly, almost defensively, lifting my camera slightly. “Exploring, filming, sharing stories. That’s what I do.”

Kael’s expression didn’t change, but I swore his jaw tightened. “Stories have a way of pulling you deeper than you intend,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “Sometimes too deep.”

For a moment, silence stretched between us, filled only by the crash of waves below.

Why did his words feel like more than just advice?

I shook my head, forcing a laugh that came out thinner than I intended. “You’re really dramatic, you know that? I almost fell, sure, but it’s not like I was about to drown.”

“Do you really think the sea here lets go that easily?” His eyes darkened, and for the briefest second, something flickered in them—a shadow, a secret.

My chest tightened. Déjà vu swept over me again, strong and suffocating. It was the same feeling I had yesterday when I first saw him: that strange, inexplicable sense of familiarity, like I’d known him in another life. Like this exact moment had already happened.

“Do I…” My voice faltered. I swallowed. “Do I know you?”

That broke through his mask. For a fraction of a second, his features softened, almost pained. Then, just as quickly, he turned away, staring out at the sea.

“No,” he said, clipped. “You don’t.”

But the hesitation in his tone told a different story.

I studied him, the lines of his face shadowed by the late afternoon sun. The wind tugged at his shirt, his hair, but he stood unmoving, like part of the landscape itself.

“Then why…” I whispered, more to myself than him. “…why does it feel like I do?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped past me, heading further down the path toward the cove.

“Wait!” I hurried after him, my sandals slipping slightly again. “You can’t just—”

“Do what you came to do,” he cut in without looking back. “But stay away from the cliff’s edge. And… stay away from the water at night.”

I froze. “Why?”

He finally glanced over his shoulder, his gaze locking with mine. For a moment, I thought I saw fire there—or maybe it was just the reflection of the sun bleeding into the horizon.

“Because not everything in Bacnotania sleeps when the sun goes down.”

A shiver ran down my spine.

Before I could ask more, he turned and disappeared into the shadows of the path ahead, leaving me standing there with my camera, my pounding heart, and a million questions.

That night, I replayed the moment in my head on a loop. His words. His stare. The way my body still buzzed where he’d grabbed me.

I was supposed to be editing my footage, but every time I pressed play, all I could hear was his voice. Stay away from the water at night.

But why?

I paced my villa balcony, restless, the moonlight spilling silver across the waves below.

And then—

A sound.

Faint, almost drowned out by the surf. A whispering hum, melodic yet strange. Like a lullaby carried on the wind.

I grabbed my camera instinctively and hit record, pointing it out toward the sea.

The sound grew clearer—rising, falling, haunting. Not like any song I’d ever heard, yet so achingly familiar my chest hurt.

I leaned over the railing, heart hammering. The waves shimmered under the moonlight, almost glowing. And there—just for an instant—I thought I saw something move beneath the surface. A figure.

The humming stopped.

The sea went still.

And then—

A voice. Right behind me.

“Didn’t I tell you not to come near the water at night?”

I spun, camera jerking in my hands. Kael stood there, shadows clinging to him, eyes burning like they held the secrets of the ocean itself.