The wind carried voices that no one else could hear.
Aria stood at the edge of the cliff, her dark cloak whipping around her like restless shadows. Below, the sea roared against jagged rocks, its fury echoing the storm brewing inside her chest. The sky above was painted in hues of fading gold and creeping gray—day surrendering to night.
And in that quiet, fragile moment between worlds… she heard it again.
A whisper.
"Don't go back."
Aria stiffened.
The voice was soft, almost lost in the wind—but it was clear. Too clear.
She turned sharply, scanning the empty path behind her. The narrow trail that led up the cliff was deserted, just as she had left it. No villagers. No guards. No one brave—or foolish—enough to follow her here.
"Who's there?" she called.
Only silence answered.
Her heart pounded harder. This wasn't the first time.
For weeks now, the whispers had followed her—soft warnings, fragments of conversations that hadn't happened yet, echoes of things that felt… wrong. At first, she thought they were dreams. Then illusions.
Now, she wasn't so sure.
"Aria."
This time, the voice was closer.
She spun around again, breath catching in her throat.
Nothing.
But the air felt different. Heavier. Charged.
She pressed a trembling hand to her temple. "I'm losing my mind," she muttered.
"No… you're finally listening."
Aria froze.
The voice hadn't come from the wind.
It came from inside her.
She stumbled back from the cliff's edge, her boots scraping against loose stones. "Stop it," she whispered, shaking her head as if she could force the voice out. "This isn't real."
But it was.
Because deep down, she recognized it.
It was her own voice.
Not as it was now—fearful, uncertain—but older. Stronger. Filled with something she couldn't name.
"Go back to the village," the voice urged. "Before it happens."
Aria's chest tightened. "Before what happens?"
No answer.
Only silence.
The wind died suddenly, leaving the world eerily still.
And then—
A scream.
Aria's head snapped toward the village below.
Smoke curled into the sky.
Her feet moved before her mind could catch up.
She ran.
Down the narrow path, through the twisting trail carved into the cliffside, past thorny bushes that clawed at her cloak. Her breath came in sharp bursts, her heart hammering with a growing sense of dread.
The whispers had warned her.
Too late.
By the time Aria reached the outskirts of the village, chaos had already taken hold.
Flames devoured wooden homes, crackling and spitting embers into the night. People ran in every direction—shouting, crying, calling for loved ones lost in the smoke.
"Aria!" someone yelled.
She turned to see Lysa, her childhood friend, clutching a bundle of cloth—her baby brother. Tears streaked her soot-covered face. "Where were you?!"
"I—" Aria faltered. How could she explain? "What happened?"
"Soldiers," Lysa said, her voice breaking. "They came out of nowhere. They're looking for something… or someone."
A chill ran down Aria's spine.
"Did you see their banner?" she asked.
Lysa shook her head. "No… but they're not from here."
A loud crash echoed nearby as a roof collapsed in a shower of sparks.
Aria's eyes darted through the chaos—and then she saw them.
Figures in dark armor, moving with deadly precision through the burning village. Their presence felt wrong, like shadows given form.
One of them turned.
And looked straight at her.
Aria's breath caught.
Even from a distance, she could feel it—the weight of his gaze, cold and knowing. As if he recognized her.
As if he had been searching for her.
"Run," the voice inside her whispered urgently.
This time, she didn't hesitate.
"Lysa, go!" Aria shouted, grabbing her friend's arm. "Take your brother and hide in the forest. Don't stop for anything."
"But what about you—"
"I'll find you," Aria said, though she wasn't sure if it was a promise she could keep. "Just go!"
Lysa hesitated for a heartbeat… then nodded and disappeared into the smoke.
Aria turned back toward the village.
Toward the flames.
Toward the soldiers.
Her pulse thundered in her ears, but beneath the fear, something else stirred.
A strange, unfamiliar certainty.
The whispers weren't random.
They were warnings.
And if she could hear them…
Then maybe—just maybe—
She could change what was coming.
The armored figure began walking toward her.
Slow. Deliberate.
Aria took a step back.
"Who are you?" she called, her voice steadier than she felt.
The man stopped.
For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.
Then he spoke.
"You already know."
Aria's blood ran cold.
Because deep inside…
She did.
And the whispers?
They weren't just warnings.
They were memories of a future she hadn't lived yet.