The Shadows that Separate Us

Chapter four: Each time we fall in love

Nikolai

The Guild Archives

The Guild's archives were hidden beneath the city, an ancient labyrinth of stone and dust. Nikolai descended the narrow, winding staircase, the weight of the past pressing in on him. As a hunter, he was used to the shadows. He had spent years hunting vampires, studying them, understanding their every weakness. But these records were different. The dusty scrolls, the centuries-old books—they told the stories of the hunters who had come before him. They held the secrets of bloodlines, of ancient pacts, and sometimes, of things that couldn't be explained.

He arrived at the archive chamber, where rows upon rows of leather-bound books stretched into the dimness. He ran a hand along the shelves, looking for anything that might connect to the woman. The vampire.

She hadn't left his mind since he saw her.

But even as he searched the dusty shelves, he couldn't stop thinking about that moment. Her eyes, so familiar yet completely foreign. Her presence. And that feeling—like he'd known her forever.

Nikolai found the records he was looking for, a thick book titled The History of Vampire Encounters in Russia Empire. He cracked it open, scanning the pages, but everything seemed to blur together. He could feel a sense of urgency pushing him to hurry, but his body felt heavy, like it was dragging him backward into something painful.

And then—he stopped.

A name jumped out at him: Seraphina, Tsarevna of Russian Empire. And a small photo beside, it looked exactly like the woman in the alley, but this time was smiling with a crown adorning her black hair. He couldn't ignore the way his heart raced at the sight of it. He flipped the pages quickly, trying to make sense of it all.

Seraphina, Tsarevna of Russia Empire the next in line for the throne, was noted in the history books as a key figure in a tragedy—one that occurred centuries ago. The attack on her wedding day. Vampires had stormed the castle. Her fiancé, a count, had been slain. And Seraphina herself had been transformed into a vampire that day.

Nikolai's eyes widened as he read the details of the attack. He could barely focus on the words, his mind scrambling to catch up with the truth unfolding before him.

It couldn't be a coincidence. Seraphina was her name. She was the princess from the story. The very same woman he had seen in the alley. He swallowed hard, his breath catching in his throat.

He didn't believe in fate. He didn't believe in past lives or destiny or anything beyond his own two hands. But this... this was beyond anything logical. It felt as though the world itself was aligning around the woman he had seen.

A vow made in the flames of death.

That line stood out to him. The more he read, the more he understood. It had been said that Seraphina had sworn to find her lost love, no matter the life they were born into. She had made a vow to him before the fire that took everything left from the vampire attack away. A vow she had carried through lifetimes.

Lucien. Her lover.

Nikolai felt the blood drain from his face. The name haunted him. He couldn't explain, he didn't even know if it was his own name, or someone else's. But he could feel it. He could feel Lucien's presence, buried deep within him, tugging at his soul.

The connection between them was undeniable. He close the book, his face pale as a ghost.

Later that night, sleep came reluctantly. It was jagged, disjointed, and restless. His mind was racing, the images and words from the records mingling with strange dreams.

In the dream, he was standing in the center of a field with flowers —the sky was clean, and it was very warm. He looked to his side and saw her—the woman from the alley or Seraphina. She was younger, her hair free, her eyes sparkling under the sunlight. She stand beside him caressing his face and smiling bittersweet at him.

"I love you so much Lucien, I wish we could stay here forever." She whispered.

The words made his heartbeat faster and he rolled them over and bend his head to kiss her.

And just like that, Nikolai was back in the present, sitting up in his bed, drenched in sweat. His heart raced in his chest from the dream or more like from the vision because all of that felt so real to be just a dream.

Lucien.

He had been Lucien. And she—Seraphina—had been his.

But if that was true... if that was real, then why didn't he remember?