Thorns of the Past

PROLOGUE

Eyes as cold as the iceberg, they pierced straight through me, freezing my thoughts and stealing my breath away. His silver hair shimmered like moonlight across a distant glacier, yet it seemed to flow toward me, impossible and magnetic, wrapping the air around me in an invisible cage. He was far, and yet every fiber of my being screamed that he was right beside me—his presence impossibly close, suffocating, intoxicating.

This wasn’t a dream, though it had the sharpness of one. Every detail—the weight of the silence, the pull of the wind, the scent of cold stone—was painfully real. Yet when he gazed at me, I could not move. My body was no longer mine, trapped and helpless, like an insect caught in a predator’s web. Every blink, every heartbeat, belonged to him.

He never lets me sleep. Never lets me rest. I lie in the void of my own mind, powerless, while he bends my dreams to his will. He is the master of every shadow, every flicker of thought, invading the spaces I thought were mine alone. And I do not know who he is—what he is—but I can feel his essence threading into the very core of me.

When will he stop? My chest tightens just thinking of it.

I do not know.

There is something familiar about him, a thread of memory I cannot grasp. Perhaps I have seen him before, perhaps I have felt this pull in another life, or perhaps it is some cruel trick of fate. Time will tell. But for now… I will not look away.

I will watch him, study him, trace every motion and shadow as he does with me. The predator and the prey, locked in silent, dangerous equilibrium, each aware of the other, each powerless to let go.

And in that dangerous closeness, a flicker of something else—curiosity, fascination, maybe even longing—ignites, fragile and unspoken.

For now, I will wait. And I will watch.

***

No one had prepared me for an outrageous twist like this. Not a single person—not even my grandmother, who had always found ways to surprise me. I remembered joking with her just days before, telling her to “surprise me” for my nineteenth birthday. I didn’t expect her to take my words literally. And yet, she did—far beyond anything I could have imagined.

Except it wasn’t a surprise I could laugh at. It was the evening I returned from school: the air heavy with the scent of rain and earth, and there she was. Pale, still, her life extinguished in the river behind the house. I screamed her name, over and over, as if repetition could pull her back. But the river held her secrets, and my voice was powerless.

“Poor child… left alone in that old mansion,” I heard whispers.

“Calista was kind… though a little unhinged,” another voice muttered.

“Sssh… she’s listening,” someone cautioned.

Their hushed tones, their pitiful looks—they meant nothing. I clutched her picture to my chest as three men lowered her coffin into the earth. Not a single tear fell. My eyes, swollen and raw, told the story already: I had cried enough.

“My condolences, Solaria.”

I felt the unexpected weight of a hand on my shoulder. Normally, I would have jumped back in surprise—but I didn’t. I met the eyes of Nicolaus, my neighbor, my friend, the one person I could lean on. His eyes were filled with quiet sorrow.

“Are you… alright?” he asked gently.

“I’m fine,” I replied flatly, emotionless. “Did I miss any homework?”

His lips twitched, almost laughing. “Sol, really? Now’s not the time for that. You need to stop thinking about school for once.”

“My grandmother… she always told me to focus on my studies. My scholarship… it depends on it.”

“You’re still mourning, Sol. I’ve already spoken with our professors—they understand. I’ve compiled all the notes for you. But for now, you need to release your pain.”

“Thanks, Nic.” I allowed myself a small, tired smile. He had always been dependable, and I was grateful—grateful that he understood without judgment.

He pulled me into a gentle hug. Normally, I’d joke about his broad shoulders, hit him playfully—but not today. Today, I let myself lean into him.

When he released me, he smiled softly. “You look worse than I expected.”

I chuckled, the sound light but fragile. His presence had that effect on me—always grounding, always lifting.

“I need to tell you something…” His tone grew mischievous, and he motioned for me to step closer.

“What is it?”

“You shouldn’t have invited Ms. Anny here. She still hasn’t returned my mother’s food container from the last dinner. It’s driving her crazy.”

“Nic!” I laughed, hitting him lightly.

He pouted, playful but sincere. “Seriously! She deserves to be blacklisted from all neighborhood events. You know my mom—if she’s in a bad mood, the whole house suffers.”

He sighed, brushing a soft hand over my cheek. “But… I heard some of them talking badly about your grandmother earlier. Shameless—”

“It’s alright,” I interrupted, stopping him before he could march off to confront them. Gossiping, jealous neighbors—old, unmarried women—would always find a way to stir trouble. Let them talk. My grandmother’s legacy was far greater than their petty words.

Crazy. Psycho. Selfish.

They thought she abandoned me. But I knew better. My grandmother had been the kind of woman who never gave up. Perhaps she had her own unbearable burdens, secrets she couldn’t share. Perhaps she believed her departure was the only way to protect me.

Nic watched me silently, his gaze softening as he studied my arms. “You’ve lost weight since the last time I saw you… Want me to stay over?”

“No, thanks. I think I need some time alone.”

“Call me if you need anything. I’ll always be here for you, Sol.”

“I know.” I nodded, watching him leave when his mother called. Alone now, I lingered a moment longer at the tombstone, then turned homeward.

The day passed in a blur. I felt drained, a heavy shadow weighing my shoulders down. I cleaned my grandmother’s belongings yesterday, though her room I left untouched. I laid on her bed, inhaling the lingering sweet scent that always comforted me.

As I dusted the pillows, a crisp, white sheet of paper fluttered to the floor. My grandmother’s handwriting danced across it, familiar and precise.

To Solaria,

My dear child, I have watched you grow into a strong, beautiful woman. I am proud of you, even if your parents could not be here.

A strange string of letters followed:

Invoca nomen meum et ego ad te venio. Aldrich.

I frowned, recognizing her signature style—mysterious, coded, playful. Could it be a puzzle, one last game for me to solve? Translating it revealed:

Call my name, and I’ll come to you. Aldrich.

Questions swirled in my mind, but for now, there were other pressing concerns. College tuition, jobs, survival. I logged online, searching for work, finding a waitress position nearby.

“We’ll call you if you’re hired!”

As dusk fell, I walked home under the sparse streetlights. The town was quiet; only a few cars passed by. My thoughts were tangled in worry about money, school, and the strange letter.

“Going somewhere, baby?”

Four men loomed ahead, leering. My patience snapped.

“Yes? May I help you?” I said sharply.

“Awe, the chic is talking to us… want a ride home?”

“I’m fine alone. Now, step back before I call the cops.”

“We’re just trying to help, babe.” Their hands moved toward me, and I reacted instinctively, remembering Nic’s advice: strike the shins where it hurts most. Pain shot through one, and I ran, heart pounding, legs burning.

“Get her!”

They gave chase, long strides eating my distance. My lungs screamed. My feet slipped on wet cobblestones. I risked crossing the street without noticing a speeding car barreling toward me.

This is it, I thought. Grandma, I’m coming.

“Move.”

A deep, commanding voice cut through the chaos. A gust of wind lifted me clear from the road, depositing me safely on the curb. My body trembled. I blinked into the darkness to see him—a tall man, pale as winter snow, silver hair glinting in the moonlight. His eyes were diamonds, sharp and unyielding. The black robe he wore shimmered with intricate patterns, almost otherworldly.

“Your savior. So… thank me,” he said, voice deep and steady.

“Thank… you?” I stammered.

“You’re welcome,” he said, a faint scoff in his tone. “Why did you speak to those men? You could have died.”

“I—” I began, but his gaze held me, unyielding.

“I’ve been watching you,” he continued. “And I pity you.”

Watching me? Creepy, I thought.

“I… don’t understand. Do I know you?” I started, only for his hand to cover my mouth, silencing me.

“Where is the girl?” he demanded, pointing behind me.

“She… she got hit by the car,” I whispered.

He nodded, tension in every line of his body. Once the danger left, his breathing tickled my nose.

“A-are they gone?”

“They are. You could have been killed. Never do that again.”

“I… I would, if you tell me your name,” I muttered, curiosity piqued.

“You summoned me,” he said, sharp and impatient. “Calling me by my name. Now release me so I may have my freedom.”

A sudden, stabbing pain ripped through my head. A ringing exploded behind my eyes, and I flinched, teetering as consciousness threatened to slip away.

“My child, wake up.”

The voice echoed in my ears, familiar yet impossible. My grandmother? But she was gone—dead. There was no way she could rise again.

“Have you seen anyone bring her here?” a nurse asked softly.

“No… she was alone at the door last night,” another replied.

I blinked, adjusting to the harsh fluorescent light of the hospital room. Whispers hovered around me, muffled by the sterile scent of antiseptic and bleach. Two nurses were bent over a clipboard, noting my vitals.

“You’re awake, miss. What’s your name?” One extended a glass of water. I grabbed it, chugging it greedily. My throat was parched, dry as sand.

I clutched my head, feeling a wave of dizziness, like I’d been hit by a truck. Wait—last night. Four men. The chase. The car. And the man. The one who saved me.

“Where is he?” I asked, my voice trembling.

Their eyebrows shot up. “Who?”

“The man… the one who brought me here last night.”

“No one was here,