Tied by Fate Bound by Time

The storm came without warning.

One moment, the sky hung heavy and still over Willow Creek University; the next, thunder cracked it open like an ancient curse breaking free. Rain slammed against cobblestone paths, and students scattered for shelter like startled birds.

Luna barely noticed.

She stood beneath the old stone archway by the history wing, one hand pressed to her chest. The ring—Asher's ring—was warm again. Not burning. Not pulsing. Just… warm. Like a memory clinging to her skin.

She should've gone back to her dorm. She should've messaged Meher. She should've done anything but stand there like the universe was whispering something she wasn't ready to hear.

But something kept her there.

Waiting.

The rain intensified, hammering the rooftops and washing the world in gray. She finally turned to leave—just as someone darted beneath the archway, shaking water from soaked sleeves.

Asher.

He froze when he saw her. Water dripped from his dark curls, his black hoodie clinging to him like shadows.

"Didn't think anyone else was crazy enough to be out in this," he muttered.

"I like the rain," Luna said softly. "It drowns everything else out."

A beat passed.

"I saw you leave the library," he added. "You looked... off."

Luna shrugged. "It's been that kind of week."

Asher leaned against the stone beside her, their shoulders just inches apart. The air between them buzzed—part storm, part memory, part something unspoken.

"Did it happen again?" he asked.

She turned to him slowly. "What do you mean?"

"The ring. The scroll. The voices. Whatever this is."

Her hand drifted to her jacket pocket, where the scroll rested inside a cloth sleeve. It hadn't glowed since the night she first opened it. But last night… the ink shimmered in the dark like stardust.

"I dreamed of fire," she whispered. "And someone… calling my name. Not Luna. Another name. Older."

Asher's gaze flicked to her lips, then back to her eyes. "I heard it too. In the dream. Your name."

She swallowed. "What did you hear?"

He hesitated. Then: "Seraphina."

The wind howled, rattling the windows behind them. The streetlamp flickered. And somewhere deep inside her chest, a truth stirred.

"That name," she said. "It's not the first time I've heard it."

The arch trembled—barely—but enough to make them both tense.

Asher reached out, fingers brushing her wrist. "Something's coming. I can feel it."

She nodded. "I think it already started."

---

They didn't move. Didn't speak.

They just stood in the silence while the storm thundered overhead like a heartbeat.

Then the wind shifted—sharp and sudden—and the lamplight went out.

A crack of lightning split the sky.

And in Luna's pocket, the scroll began to glow.

She gasped and stumbled back, yanking it free. The cloth wrapper burned away like ash, revealing ancient parchment beneath. The ink shimmered like it was alive.

"What the hell…" Asher stepped forward, but she held up a hand.

The scroll unrolled itself.

A new line appeared—etched as if written by the storm itself:

> Let the storm speak, and memory rise.

Suddenly, Luna's vision blurred with flashes—

A cathedral carved into a cliff of light.

A man in black robes holding a blade of crystal.

A silver-haired woman whispering in a language older than time.

Luna gasped and dropped the scroll. Her knees buckled.

Asher caught her, pulling her into his arms.

"Luna!"

Her fingers trembled against his chest. "I saw… something. A life that wasn't mine. But it felt like it was."

He held her tighter. "I think we're remembering something we were never meant to forget."

---

The storm began to calm.

At their feet, the scroll's glow faded. But the new line remained—burned into the parchment like lightning's fingerprint.

> Let the storm speak, and memory rise.

"Do you think this is a prophecy?" Luna whispered.

Asher shook his head. "No. It's a trigger. Something's waking up."

He looked down at his hand.

The ring no longer glowed—but something had changed.

A thin crack now split the gemstone, pulsing faintly from within.

Before they could speak, a sound echoed down the hallway.

Footsteps.

They turned.

A figure emerged from the shadows—tall, lean, cloaked in gray academic robes.

Professor Thorne.

He was rarely seen. Tucked away in the restricted archives. Most students didn't even know he still taught.

Now, he stood watching them like he'd just witnessed something ancient return.

"Curious," he said. "You've activated the storm sequence. I didn't expect that before Equinox."

Luna stiffened. "You know about this?"

Thorne's lips curved into a half-smile. "More than most. Less than I'd like. But you two… you're anomalies."

Asher stepped between them. "What do you want?"

"Answers," the professor said simply. "And perhaps… to offer a warning."

He turned, cloak billowing as he walked away.

"Storms remember things even time tries to bury," he called over his shoulder. "You'd do well to remember that."

Then he vanished into the dark.

---

That night, Luna sat on her bed, wrapped in a blanket, the scroll now sealed in a moonstone box she found in her mother's attic.

The line still glowed faintly.

Her phone buzzed.

A message from Asher:

> Do you feel it too? Like something's waiting for us to choose.

She stared at the screen.

> Yes, she typed. But I don't know what the choice is.

He replied almost instantly:

> Me neither. But I think we're running out of time to stay in the dark.

Luna leaned back and closed her eyes.

The rain was still falling.

But inside her, something older than the storm was stirring.

A memory.

A name.

A vow.

And none of it was done with her yet.

---

End of Chapter 12

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