My eyes snapped open.

Heat slammed into me. Not the gentle warmth of a fire crackling in the fireplace, but the suffocating heat of an inferno. I stood in the middle of a village consumed by flames. Wooden cottages burned on every side, their roofs collapsing in showers of sparks that drifted into a sky blackened with smoke. Fire climbed walls like hungry fingers, devouring everything it touched while thick ash floated lazily through the air like falling snow.

The smell hit me next. A mixture of smoke, burning timber, and something metallic beneath it... Blood.

My stomach twisted.

Bodies lay scattered across the dirt roads as though they had simply fallen where they stood. Some were curled together, others stretched unnaturally still. Dark crimson soaked into the earth beneath them, while shattered carts and abandoned belongings lay scattered amongst the dead. A sword rested beside one outstretched hand. Several paces away, a severed arm lay as if it had just been randomly discarded.

I stumbled backwards, my heart hammering painfully against my ribs.

"What..." The word barely escaped my lips.

My eyes caught on one of the bodies.

Without thinking, I found myself walking towards it. Each step felt strangely familiar. As though I'd walked these streets countless times before.

I knelt beside the figure. It was a man. His clothes were stained with soot and blood.

I tried to look at his face but it blurred. Not because of smoke, but because I simply couldn't remember it. No matter how hard I tried, his features refused to come into focus, as though my own mind was desperately hiding them from me.

A cold chill crawled up my spine. I knew this place. Didn't I?

I closed my eyes, desperately searching for something.

Anything.

A name. A memory. A reason. But nothing came.

Just...

Empty darkness.

"Damn it..." My voice sounded painfully small amongst the crackling flames.

I drew a slow breath.

Instead of the smoke, I smelled fresh mint and morning dew. The same gentle fragrance that had filled our room before I'd fallen asleep. It didn't belong here. Not amongst this scene of carnage.

A scream shattered the silence. It echoed through the burning village.

Then another.

Followed by the unmistakable sound of steel striking steel.

Someone was still alive.

My entire body locked in place.

If someone was screaming, then whatever had done this was still here.

Footsteps, slow and steady, sounded. Crunching across burnt timber. They weren't running or even hurried. They sounded like they were just taking a casual stroll.

Every instinct screamed at me to hide.

I turned and ran.

The village blurred around me as I stumbled through streets that somehow felt both unfamiliar and deeply remembered. My feet seemed to know exactly where to go, weaving between burning buildings without hesitation until I burst into a small clearing at the very edge of the village. One house stood untouched. No flames licked at its walls. No smoke stained its roof. It stood silent amidst the destruction, as though the fire itself had refused to cross its threshold.

Relief flooded through me.

I sprinted towards it.

My hand wrapped around the handle.

Locked.

"No..."

I shoved harder, but still nothing.

Panic clawed at my chest.

I threw my shoulder against the door. Pain shot through my bruised arm.

The wood didn't move.

Again and again, but it didn't budge one inch.

"Please..."

I slammed against it once more.

The footsteps were closer now.

I pressed my back against the door, my breathing ragged as I squeezed my eyes shut.

"This isn't real." My voice trembled. "It's just a dream."

The footsteps continued.

Closer.

Closer.

Then...

They stopped.

Silence.

For several long heartbeats, I couldn't bring myself to move.

Finally, I forced my eyes open.

I saw a man standing before me. He remained only a few metres away, framed by the burning village behind him. His white uniform looked impossibly untouched by the devastation surrounding us, the pristine fabric unmarked by soot or ash. Fine golden embroidery traced intricate patterns across the cuffs, collar and breast, catching the firelight whenever he moved, while delicate chains draped from one shoulder to the other, each one ending in tiny wing-shaped charms that chimed softly against the silence.

At his hip rested a longsword. Fresh blood streaked its brilliant silver blade. Enormous white wings stretched from his back, the feathers impossibly pure, except for the crimson stains that marked several of them. Long silver-white hair framed a face so impossibly beautiful it almost hurt to look at. Pale silver eyes watched me with a tenderness that simply didn't belong amongst burning homes and broken bodies.

He should have terrified me.

Everything about him screamed danger.

He looked powerful enough to have reduced the entire village to ash without breaking a sweat.

Yet, somehow the terror that had been squeezing my chest only moments before quietly unravelled. My breathing slowed and the frantic pounding of my heart settled into a gentle rhythm. Even the trembling in my legs faded.

Instant relief washed over me like slipping beneath a warm blanket after standing in the cold.

I hated it.

Nothing about this made sense. Every instinct I understood screamed at me to run. He had a bloodied sword and blood stained his wings while people lay dead around me.

Everything I could see told me he was dangerous.

Yet something deeper...

Something I couldn't explain...

Whispered that he wouldn't hurt me.

No.

Something was wrong.

Before I could stop him, he held the sword out and I winced, fearing that he would point it at me, but he did something that betrayed all expectations. He tossed the sword aside. The blade hit the dirt with a dull metallic clang. Then slowly raised both empty hands, palms towards me. The gesture reminded me of someone trying to coax a frightened stray animal from beneath a porch.

"I won't come any closer." His voice was gentle. "I promise."

He spoke so softly I almost had to strain to hear him over the crackling flames.

"You're safe now." A faint smile touched his lips. "No one is going to hurt you anymore."

The words wrapped around me like a blanket. I hated how desperately I wanted to believe them. I stared at him in silence. Not because I didn't know what to say, but because the moment he'd spoken, every sensible thought in my head had scattered.

He slowly held out one hand. "Come here."

My body moved.

Only half a step.

I caught myself immediately.

No.

Why had I—

I planted my feet harder into the ground.

Something inside me screamed to take his hand.

Another part of me screamed to run.

The two instincts tore at each other until my chest felt painfully tight.

"Who are you?" The question came out far shakier than I'd intended.

For the briefest moment, something almost sad crossed his face. 

"It would be kinder..." He lowered his hand slightly. "If you never knew."

I frowned.

"That's probably the least reassuring answer you could've given."

To my surprise, instead of being angry, he laughed. The corners of his lips lifted into a gentle smile, revealing a small dimple in one cheek. 

"If it helps," he said. His silver eyes never left mine. "You can think of me as your guardian angel."

Despite myself, I almost smiled back.

Almost.

Instead, I folded my arms tightly across myself.

"My guardian angel?" I glanced pointedly towards the blood coating his discarded sword. "You've got an odd way of showing it."

His expression faltered. But only for a heartbeat. When he looked back at me, there was something painfully genuine in his eyes.

"I know." His voice had become almost a whisper. "I'm sorry."

He took one careful step forward.

Every muscle in my body tensed. I instinctively pressed backwards until my shoulders met the wooden door behind me. But there was nowhere left to go.

He noticed immediately and stopped. But now he was close enough that I could see tiny flecks of soot caught amongst the strands of his pale hair. Close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him despite the cool breeze drifting through the ruined village.

He didn't reach for me.

Instead...

His hand hovered just beside my face. Close enough that I could feel its warmth. Far enough that he never crossed the final distance without permission.

"I won't touch you." His voice was almost unbearably gentle. "You've been frightened enough."

His eyes searched mine with heartbreaking tenderness.

"I'm sorry..." The words sounded heavier this time.

As though they carried far more meaning than I could possibly understand.

"I wasn't fast enough to save you."

Something inside my chest twisted painfully.

I didn't know this man. I didn't know why he was apologising. I didn't even know if I should believe a single word he was saying.

But somehow, hearing him say he was sorry hurt more than seeing the burning village around us.

I couldn't stop staring at him.

Every sensible thought still whispered that I should push him away, demand answers, run into the burning village if I had to. Instead my hand lifted of its own accord. Slowly, almost hesitantly, my fingertips brushed against his warm cheek. 

He closed his eyes for the briefest moment, leaning ever so slightly into my touch before opening them again. Something softened in his expression, relief flickering across his face so quickly I almost wondered if I'd imagined it.

"I knew," he murmured, his voice barely louder than the crackling fire around us, "that you'd find your way back to me."

His hand rose just as cautiously as mine had. Rather than taking hold of me, he simply tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his knuckles grazing my skin with a tenderness that made my chest tighten.

I hated how comforting it felt.

"This has to be a dream," I whispered.

A faint smile touched his lips. "And why is that?"

His voice drifted over me like a warm breeze, close enough that I could feel each word against my skin.

I let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. 

"Because..." I shook my head. "Why else would my mind invent a guardian angel that looks like you?"

For a heartbeat, he simply looked at me. Then he laughed, a warm and pleasant laugh.

When I looked back up, I found his silver eyes fixed entirely on me.

There was relief in them.

Longing.

An ache so deep it made my own chest hurt in answer.

"What am I supposed to call you?" I asked quietly.

His smile lingered. "I don't think names matter."

"They do to me."

He considered that before letting out another soft breath.

"Then..." His lips curved just a little more. "You can call me Rags."

I blinked. "Rags?"

"I've been called worse."

Despite everything surrounding us, a tiny smile escaped me.

"I somehow doubt that."

The smile faded as my gaze drifted beyond him.

The burning village still stood behind him, flames swallowing rooftops while smoke curled into the dark sky.

"What did you mean..." My voice caught. "When you said you weren't fast enough?"

His expression changed instantly. The warmth remained, but grief settled beneath it. Without force, he gently cupped my chin, encouraging me to meet his eyes instead of the destruction behind him.

"Don't." His thumb brushed lightly beneath my jaw. "You don't need to look at that."

His own gaze flickered briefly towards the village.

Anger flashed through his silver eyes before disappearing beneath quiet sadness.

"I'm sorry." The words were almost painfully sincere. "I should have reached you before they did."

"They?" The question barely left my lips.

His eyes dropped briefly to the silver compass resting against my chest. For the first time, something unreadable crossed his face. Perhaps sadness, anger or maybe even a little bit of resentment.

When he looked back at me, all of it had vanished. "You've been through enough for one night."

"I don't understand."

"I know." His hand lingered against my cheek. "But you will eventually."

The warmth beneath my uniform spread again.

It began as a faint pulse beneath my collarbone before slowly radiating through my chest like sunlight melting winter frost. The sensation was strangely comforting, coaxing away the fear that had been gripping me ever since I'd opened my eyes in this nightmare.

I frowned.

Something wasn't right.

I didn't know this man.

I shouldn't have been standing this close.

Yet every heartbeat whispered the opposite.

A voice inside my head kept saying: You've known him forever. You're safe. You can trust him.

The thoughts weren't mine.

Were they?

He watched every flicker of uncertainty cross my face.

"I won't make you remember." His voice remained impossibly gentle. "Not until you're ready."

His fingertips slipped from my cheek, giving me every opportunity to step away.

He didn't move closer. Didn't reach for me again. Instead, he simply stood there, looking at me as though he already anticipated what choice I would make next.

I should have walked away, but I found myself closing the small distance between us.

His breath caught. But only slightly. Enough that I realised he hadn't been quite as composed as he'd appeared.

"I know you," I whispered, though I had no idea how I knew it.

"You do." His answer came with heartbreaking certainty.

"I've always known you."

Something inside me broke and I reached for him.

This time he didn't hesitate. His arms wrapped carefully around me, holding me as though I were something precious he feared might disappear if he held on too tightly.

The warmth beneath my chest flared.

His forehead rested lightly against mine.

"I've searched for you for so long."The words were almost lost beneath the roar of the fire."I thought..."

He stopped himself. His eyes searched mine, as though silently asking one final question.

I should have refused.

Instead I closed the distance.

Our lips met.

The kiss was impossibly gentle at first, little more than a lingering brush that sent warmth rushing through every part of me. It felt achingly familiar, as though I had repeated this moment countless times before, though I couldn't remember a single one of them. My fingers tightened in the fabric of his uniform as the strange certainty inside me grew stronger, whispering that this was where I belonged, that this was the person I'd been searching for without ever knowing it.

He answered slowly, carefully, never rushing me, allowing every movement to be mine before following it. When I leaned closer, he deepened the kiss only enough to meet me there, one hand resting against the back of my neck while the other remained lightly at my waist, as though he was terrified I might vanish if he held me any tighter.

The warmth in my chest spread until it filled my entire body.

For one impossible moment...

The burning village disappeared; everything around me melted away until there was only him.

When we finally drew apart, he rested his forehead against mine, his breathing slightly uneven.

A smile, small and almost disbelieving, crossed his face.

"I've missed you." The words escaped him before he seemed able to stop them.

I searched his face. "Have we... met before?"

He closed his eyes. "I wish I could tell you."

"Then tell me."

His expression tightened. "It isn't time." He brushed his thumb lightly across my cheek. "There are things keeping your memories from you."

"What?"

His gaze drifted somewhere beyond me. "They've stolen enough already."

When he looked back at me, the tenderness returned.

"But they won't keep you from me forever."

I didn't understand any of it.

I should have questioned him.

Demanded answers.

Instead, all I could think about was how impossibly wrong it felt to imagine leaving him.

As though walking away would mean abandoning someone I'd loved for longer than I could remember.

He leaned close enough that his words became little more than a whisper.

"Don't believe everything you're told." His lips brushed my forehead. "I will find you."

The warmth in my chest pulsed one final time.

The burning village fractured into shards of light.

Then the dream shattered around me.