Each morning, Celeste rode her bicycle through the quiet streets of Alas, her legs moving in steady rhythm, the cool breeze brushing gently against her cheeks. It was such a small part of her day, yet it brought a kind of peace she didn't find anywhere else. She liked the way the town slowly came to life around her—the soft clink of stall owners arranging fruit crates, the low murmur of morning greetings, and the comforting scent of freshly baked bread drifting from the corner bakery.
To most people, the bike wasn't anything special. The paint was chipped, the tires often low, and the bell only worked if you hit it just right. But to Celeste, it was priceless. Granny had given it to her on her fifteenth birthday, after months of quietly setting aside coins from her flower shop earnings. Celeste still remembered the way Granny had smiled—tired, proud, a little sheepish—as she led her outside and revealed the bicycle, secondhand and slightly scuffed but polished as if it were brand new.
"It's not much," Granny had said, "but it'll take you where you need to go."
And it had. Over the years, that bike had carried her through school days and stormy afternoons, to the edge of town and back again. More than that, it had carried Granny's love with every turn of the wheel.
As she pedaled through the town, her thoughts drifted aimlessly, lost in the hazy warmth of the sun filtering through the trees. The streets were familiar, the turns instinctive, but then—something sharp cut through her reverie.
A loud screech.
Her heart lurched as the sleek black car appeared out of nowhere, making a sharp, sudden turn directly into her path. Time slowed in that surreal, stretched-out way that happened just before disaster struck. Instinct took over—her hands jerked the handlebars, desperate to veer away, but the bicycle wobbled violently under the abrupt motion.
The car's tires screeched to a halt, stopping mere inches from her, but the shock of it all sent her balance spiraling.
Pain flared as she crashed onto the pavement, her knee scraping against the rough asphalt. A sharp sting spread across her skin, but her mind barely registered it over the rush of panic thrumming through her body.
Then, a door slammed open.
"Are you okay?"
The voice was rich and warm, filled with genuine concern, cutting through the ringing in her ears. Before she could fully process what was happening, strong hands were on her—light yet firm, moving over her back, checking for injuries.
Celeste barely had time to react before she looked up—
And her breath caught.
The young man crouched before her was stunning. His dark caramel-brown hair was slightly tousled, as though he had just run his fingers through it. His eyes—an arresting shade of gold-flecked brown—locked onto hers, sharp and unreadable. There was something about the way he carried himself, something effortlessly refined, as though he belonged to a world far beyond the simple streets of Alas. He was dressed casually, but there was an undeniable air of confidence about him, a presence that was impossible to ignore.
For a fleeting moment, everything else faded—the pain in her knee, the scrape on her palm, the sounds of the town around her. The only thing that existed was the boy in front of her, and the way his eyes seemed to be looking at her as though he recognized something she didn't.
Her heartbeat thundered against her ribs.
A shiver ran through her, warmth curling in her stomach—an unfamiliar sensation that made her pulse quicken in a way she didn't understand.
"I—I'm fine," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Scrambling to her feet, she ignored the stinging pain that shot up her leg and reached for her bicycle, suddenly desperate to put distance between them. The stranger didn't move to stop her, but his gaze lingered, unreadable, something flickering behind his eyes—curiosity? Amusement?
She didn't wait to find out.
With hurried, shaky movements, she pushed off, pedaling away as fast as her legs would allow. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, her thoughts tangled in confusion.
Even as the town blurred past her, the memory of his face remained vivid in her mind.
Who was he?
She had lived in Alas all her life. She knew every familiar face in this town. And yet, she had never seen him before.
*****
By the time Celeste reached school, she had told herself—no, forced herself—to forget about the morning's encounter. It had been nothing more than a fleeting moment, an accident that meant absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things. She would never see him again. He was just a stranger passing through, someone with no connection to her life. And yet, despite her efforts, her thoughts refused to cooperate.
The image of him was still imprinted in her mind—the way his golden-flecked eyes had locked onto hers, sharp and searching, as if he had seen something in her she hadn't even recognized in herself. The warmth of his hands, the effortless grace in the way he moved, the low, steady voice that had wrapped around her like velvet—it all lingered, stubborn and unrelenting.
Even as she stepped into the lecture hall and took her seat, the rest of the world around her blurred into insignificance. The professor's voice droned on, the words dissolving into meaningless static. Her fingers idly traced the edge of her notebook, her pencil hovering over a blank page, utterly useless. She should have been paying attention. She should have been focusing on anything other than a boy she didn't even know. But no matter how much she tried, her mind kept circling back, replaying every second of their brief encounter, searching for a reason—an explanation—for why it had unsettled her so much.
Then, a burst of chatter shattered the quiet hum of the classroom, pulling her abruptly out of her thoughts. A group of girls entered the room in a flurry of hushed excitement, their voices high-pitched and barely restrained.
"I heard we have another transfer student," one of them whispered, practically vibrating with anticipation.
"And I heard he's hot," another added with a giggle, her voice laced with eager amusement.
Celeste froze.
Her grip on her pencil tightened slightly as a strange sensation crawled up her spine. Her heart, which had just begun to settle, gave an uneasy jolt.
Could it be…?
No. That would be ridiculous. It was just a coincidence. There was no way.
And yet, as the possibility took root in her mind, she found herself holding her breath, her pulse quickening against her will.
Before she could dwell on it any longer, the professor's sharp voice cut through the chatter, pulling the room back into order.
"Class, open your textbooks to page seventy-two."
The scrape of chairs, the rustle of paper, and the shifting of bodies filled the air as the students hurried to obey. Celeste exhaled slowly, forcing herself to move, to turn the pages, to pretend that her hands weren't slightly unsteady.
She told herself it didn't matter. She told herself she didn't care.
But deep down, she knew that if she looked up and saw him again—saw those eyes, that presence—everything would change.
And for the first time in her life, she wasn't sure if she was ready for that.
*****
Lunchtime arrived, and the school hallways buzzed with restless energy as students poured from their classrooms, their voices blending into a chaotic hum of chatter, laughter, and hurried footsteps. Celeste moved through the crowd with practiced ease, her focus set on reaching her locker, retrieving her books, and escaping to her usual quiet corner before anyone could bother her. It was the same routine she followed every day, the same path through the same corridors, where the same faces ignored her as if she were nothing more than background noise in their world.
But today was different.
As she turned the corner, something in the air shifted.
A strange, electric tension curled through the atmosphere, tightening around her like an invisible thread. The normal rhythm of school life faltered, the once aimless chatter growing softer, more hushed, as if everyone in the hallway had become collectively aware of something—or someone—just beyond her line of sight.
Then she saw him.
Her steps came to an abrupt halt, her breath catching in her throat.
There, standing by the row of lockers, was the boy from that morning.
The same striking features, the same golden-brown eyes that had burned into her memory. Only now, he wasn't just a fleeting moment on a street corner—he was here, in her school, in her world.
And she wasn't the only one who noticed.
The usual flow of students had slowed, their movements subtly shifting as they stole glances in his direction. Some girls were outright staring, their eyes wide with unmasked admiration, while others whispered animatedly behind cupped hands, their words laced with barely contained excitement. It wasn't just his looks that drew attention—though that alone would have been enough—it was something more. Something about the way he carried himself, the effortless grace in his posture, the quiet confidence in his slow, deliberate movements as he opened his locker with ease.
He was completely unfazed by the attention, as if he had been born to be watched, as if the weight of their gazes meant nothing at all.
Celeste barely noticed the way her own hands trembled as she gripped the edge of her locker, her fingers tightening against the cool metal. But then—she saw it.
Her stomach dropped.
On the back of his left hand, a shimmering mark caught the light, its intricate design unmistakable.
A Luminary crest.
The realization hit her like a punch to the gut, a cold shock spreading through her veins.
He wasn't just a transfer student. He wasn't just some stranger who happened to cross her path.
He was a Luminary.
The breath she had been holding came out in a slow, unsteady exhale, her heartbeat hammering against her ribs.
She had no business staring at him. No right to feel the sudden, inexplicable pull in her chest.
And yet—
As if drawn by an invisible thread, he turned—smoothly, effortlessly, like the shift of the wind before a storm. His golden-brown eyes, flecked with something almost otherworldly, locked onto hers with quiet precision. It wasn't just a glance, not a fleeting moment of passing recognition. It was deliberate. Knowing. As if he had felt her gaze before he even saw her.
Celeste held her breath without meaning to, caught between fear and something she couldn't quite name. Her body tensed, fingers gripping the edge of her locker as if holding on could steady her. But nothing could've prepared her for the way he looked at her. It wasn't like the curious stares from other students—the kind that treated her like a puzzle to solve. No, this felt different. Much deeper. Much heavier.
He seemed to recognise and remember her.
The thought sent a jolt through her chest, undoing all her efforts to believe that their encounter that morning meant nothing. She could've called it a coincidence—just a passing moment—if only he had looked at her like a stranger. But he didn't. His gaze was steady, like he saw something in her she couldn't explain. And for a moment, the world around them faded away.
Celeste's chest tightened, a slow, creeping panic coiling through her veins. No. This was dangerous. Whatever this was—this brief moment, this feeling in her gut—it wasn't supposed to happen.
Then, without thinking, she walked away.
Her feet moved before her mind could catch up, each step quick, deliberate, carrying her through the crowded hallway with a purpose she wasn't sure she believed in. She didn't dare slow down, didn't dare turn back—not even for a second. She could still feel his gaze on her, a lingering presence that sent a shiver down her spine, but she refused to acknowledge it.
She didn't look back. She couldn't. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to keep moving. And yet, she felt it—an invisible thread pulling at her, urging her to turn around, to look just one more time. But she didn't.
No matter how fast she walked or how hard she tried to shake it off, the unease inside her wouldn't go away. It felt like something in the air had changed—subtle, but enough to throw her world off balance.