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It was midnight when I first saw her. The streets were dark, cold, and wrapped in a thick mist that chilled me to the bone. I had just left the factory, my mind still foggy from the long shift, when I noticed a flash of red disappearing down an alleyway. Something inside me stirred—a curiosity that I couldn't ignore—so I followed.
As I turned the corner, the mist seemed to part, revealing a figure cloaked in crimson. My breath caught in my throat. And then, without warning, the flashbacks came.
At first, I couldn’t make sense of them. Flashes of light, obsidian feathers falling, and a searing pain in my shoulder. When the visions finally ended, I found myself leaning against a dumpster, my heart pounding in my chest. I looked back to where the cloaked figure had been, but she was gone.
I went straight home after that, not daring to take any more detours. But the flashbacks didn’t leave me alone. They haunted me, sometimes the same images, sometimes new ones. And with each vision, a strange longing grew inside me, as if I was reliving memories from a life I’d forgotten.
Desperate to put it all behind me, I threw myself into work and distractions, anything to keep my mind off that night. But the more I tried to forget, the harder it became.
Then one day, as I was about to pay for a coffee, panic hit me. My wallet was gone. I checked all my pockets, but it was nowhere to be found. Great, just what I needed.
"Ahh, sorry," I stammered, trying to keep my composure. "I must've misplaced my wallet. Do you take e-wallet?"
The elderly woman behind the counter smiled kindly. "Oh, don't worry, sonny. Your coffee’s already paid for. By that nice young lady over there."
I blinked, taken aback. Who would pay for my coffee? I didn’t know anyone here—this was my first time at this quiet little café. I had only come because I ran out of coffee at home.
Turning around, I scanned the tables until I spotted her. A woman with black hair, sipping her coffee while she watched the street from the window. My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t need to see her face to know. It was her—the woman from my dreams, the one cloaked in red.
Before I knew it, my legs were carrying me toward her table. As I approached, she kept her eyes closed, savoring her drink. I pulled out a chair and sat down across from her. Only then did she open one eye to look at me.
Her gaze pinned me in place. Her eyes weren’t brown or black like everyone else’s. They were yellow, with dark pupils that seemed to bore into my soul, dissecting me, searching for something.
"Put off by the eyes?" Her voice was smooth, almost unnervingly so, like she was reciting lines from a video game cutscene. "And here I thought men could hold eye contact better."
I coughed, suddenly aware of the tightness in my chest. She put down her mug, a thin smile playing on her lips as she watched me—watched me like prey.
"Why did you pay for my coffee?" I managed to ask, though my voice nearly broke.
"Why should anyone do anything nice?" She laced her gloved fingers together, resting her chin on them as she leaned forward. "I just thought you could use a break."
The air felt stifling, as if the café’s air conditioning had given out. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
"There's nice, and then there's stalking," I said, trying to regain control. "I’ve never seen you around here before."
That was a lie, of course. I had seen her before, but I wasn’t about to admit that. Not when I had no idea who she was, aside from the visions that had been haunting me.
"So tell me, who are you really?"
She held my gaze for a moment before laughing softly, covering her mouth as she giggled. Then, suddenly, she dropped her hand and her eyes widened, locking onto mine with a force that made me stumble back in my seat.
"Quite the irony there, mister," she said, her voice cutting through me. "You're asking me who I am, but really—who are you?"
I felt a wave of unease wash over me. Sweat beaded on my forehead.
"What are you talking about?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Well, first of all, why don’t we start with your name?"
"That's easy," I said, though I faltered. My name was right there on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
"You can't remember, can you?" she asked, her tone softer now, almost understanding. "Or maybe you just can’t bring yourself to say it."
The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. I couldn’t remember my name. It was there, just out of reach, like a word on the edge of memory, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t grasp it. I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of it all.
Her gaze softened, and she nodded back, as if she understood.
"Tell me," she said, her voice gentle but probing, "how much do you remember of your past?"
I tried to think, but aside from the monotony of factory work, there was nothing. It was as if a wall blocked off everything before that. I shook my head, afraid that speaking would shatter me.
Suddenly, I felt her hands holding mine, steadying the tremor I hadn’t noticed until now.
"Focus," she said softly. "Can you do that for me?"
I nodded, though I was still reeling from everything.
"Okay," she continued, "now tell me this: What happened when you saw me in that alley?"
My eyes widened in surprise. "You knew I was there?"
She smiled—a warm smile that somehow eased my nerves. "I did, and I knew that once you saw me, the cracks would start to appear."
"Cracks?" I repeated, confused.
She let go of my hands and pulled a handkerchief from her coat, draping it over her coffee cup. "Imagine this cup is your name. You know it exists, but you can’t seem to figure out the details of what it is, right?"
I nodded, relieved she could explain things so clearly.
"Before you saw me," she said, "the blockage was still there, but after that night in the alley, cracks started to form." She picked up a straw from the basket on the table and, with surprising ease, pierced the handkerchief with it.
When I looked back at her, she was watching me closely, reading my every expression, waiting for my reaction.
"But why did seeing you cause all this?" I searched her features for answers that didn't seem to want to show themselves. "Who are you really?" I ask again, almost pleading.
She placed her hands back onto the table, and this time she seemed almost... timid? This wasn't the confident woman with her usual devil may care attitude. Her eyes held such sadness in them and I almost wanted to stand up and give her a hug.
"My name is Akwatir, and like you, I also don't remember much of my past. The only difference is, I've realised for a much longer time than you have."
She looked back up to me, her eyes forming a connection with mine that I felt as though transcends anything human.
"I don't know much, but I do know that what we are," she said, flicking her finger between the two of us. "Isn't human."
My eyes widen at the harrowing statement. Not human? What does that mean? All your life, you've never felt anything special about you. Certainly nothing that indicated that you were anything but mortal.
But then again, you can barely remember life before coming here, can you?
"So what're trying to say? Cuz I don't know if you realise this, but there's nothing extraordinary about me."
"That may be true for now, but I have memories of a you that was once great and powerful, a master of his domain." She said confidently.
Her words seemed hard to believe, but I had a feeling that she wouldn't lie about something like this.
Suddenly, Akwatir's eyes dart around the room, looking around the room quickly. I try to follow her line of sight but I cant seem to find anything out of the ordinary.
"What?" I ask her softly, only to get shushed regardless. The tension in the café tightened as Akwatir stood up, her eyes darting toward the back of the room where the sound of the door being kicked open could be heard. Panic flickered across her usually calm face, and she stood up quickly, preparing to make a quick exit.
"Who are they?" I asked, my voice hushed but urgent.
She shot me a hard look. "Dangerous people," she said, her voice low and clipped. "You can’t face them yet, not without your powers."
I didn’t have time to process what she meant. My instincts screamed at me to run, but something stronger kept me rooted in place. I wasn’t about to let her just disappear again, not after everything I’d just learned—or almost learned. Before she could make a break for it, I grabbed her hand, holding her back.
"Wait," I whispered, glancing around. "Hide behind the curtain."
Her eyes flashed with skepticism. "That’s a terrible idea. They’ll find me in seconds."
"Just trust me," I insisted, gripping her hand tighter. "Please."
For a moment, I thought she would argue, but then she looked into my eyes and seemed to weigh her options. With a quiet huff, she let me pull her toward the thick curtain near the front window, a spot obscured by shadows and potted plants. It wasn’t much, but it was the best I could think of on the spot.
As she slipped behind the curtain, heavy footsteps could be heard approaching. They moved with purpose, the kind of stride that belonged to people who knew how to get what they wanted—by force if necessary.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart, and tried to act unaware of everything as they entered the main area of the café. They were tall, dressed in dark coats, wearing sunglasses that scanned the room with unsettling precision. Their presence felt wrong, like their very existence was bleaching the life out of the room.
The first man, with a scar running down his cheek, glared at the elderly woman behind the counter. "You see anyone come through here? A woman, black hair, brown coat?"
The woman shook her head, her hands trembling slightly. "N-no, I didn’t see anyone like that."
The second man, broader and with a menacing smirk, surveyed the room. His gaze landed on me, and I could feel the weight of his scrutiny as if he was peeling back layers to see what I was hiding.
I knew I had to do something to throw them of Akwatir's scent. I forced a clumsy smile and stood up, holding my coffee cup awkwardly.
"Hey, fellas," I said, feigning nonchalance. "Caffeine, amirite?"
The first man looked towards me, his eyes narrowing. "You lookin' for trouble, kid?"
"N-no," I stammered, stepping closer while trying to appear harmless. "Just, uh... enjoying my coffee. You know, minding my own business."
They ignored me, their attention snapping to the rest of the café. The second man walked further into the room, his eyes sweeping over the tables, the counter, and then... the curtain.
My heart pounded as he moved closer, his hand twitching as if ready to pull something from his coat. He stopped just inches from where Akwatir was hidden, the fabric swaying slightly as if stirred by her breath. The first man joined him, their eyes locked on the curtain. I could almost see the gears turning in their heads, suspicion tightening their expressions.
Desperation clawed at me. If they found her now, there was no telling what they would do. I needed a distraction—anything to pull their attention away from that spot.
Without thinking, I fumbled with my coffee cup, tipping it just enough for the contents to spill out and splash all over the second man’s shoes. The hot liquid splattered onto his pants and pooled around his feet.
He jumped back with a curse, his face contorting in anger. "What the hell, you idiot!" he snarled, turning toward me with rage in his eyes.
"Oh man, I’m so sorry!" I blurted out, grabbing napkins from a nearby table and frantically dabbing at the mess. "I didn’t mean to—I was just distracted by this absolute babe who walked out of here a minute ago. Rich black hair, and her red coat looked soo stylish... man, you should've seen her."
The first man froze, his head snapping toward me. "Red coat?" he asked, the suspicion in his voice mingling with urgency.
I nodded quickly, trying to look both apologetic and flustered. "Yeah, she just left. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She went out the front door, I think." I point my thumb over my shoulder towards the door.
The two men exchanged a glance, their frustration and anger at me momentarily giving way to sharp, focused intensity. Without another word, they turned on their heels and stormed out the door, the bell above it jangling violently as they went.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, the tension in my chest finally easing. For a moment, I stood there in the silence, listening to the sound of my own heartbeat.
Then, slowly, Akwatir stepped out from behind the curtain, her expression unreadable.
"You’re either very brave or very foolish," she said, her voice a mix of admiration and concern. "But you did well."
I shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the adrenaline still coursing through me. "I couldn’t just let them take you."
Akwatir smiled, a genuine one this time, and I felt warmth radiate from it. "Thank you," she said softly. "But next time, I won’t be so easy to corner."
"Next time?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Does that mean you’re sticking around?"
Her smile faded slightly, replaced by a more serious expression. "We’ll see. But for now, there’s something you need to understand." She stepped closer, her yellow eyes locking onto mine. "If you want to survive what's coming, you’ll have to remember who you really are."
"And if I can’t?" I asked, the weight of her words sinking in.
"Then I’ll help you," she replied, her voice firm and resolute. "Because whether you like it or not, we’re in this together."
The café felt smaller now, as if the world outside had faded away, leaving just the two of us. Her hand wandered towards my cheek, where some coffee had splashed onto me when I distracted those men. She wiped it away, but let her hand stay there for a moment too longer than needed. I felt my cheeks burn up but tried to not let it show.
"Ahaha, okay then," I said, nodding slowly. "Where do we start?"
Akwatir looked out the window, her eyes narrowing as if she could see something far off in the distance. "We start by finding out who’s really after us—and why."
With that, she turned and headed for the door, pausing only to glance back at me. "You coming?"
I hesitated for only a moment before following her out into the night, the cold air biting at my skin.