Julius hesitated his fingers tightening on the wooden door as he studied the woman before him. She stood patiently, her posture relaxed but her eyes carrying something unspoken, something unsettlingly familiar. He should turn her away there was no reason to let a stranger into his home. And yet, he didn’t.

"Come in," he said, the words heavier than they should have been.

Stella stepped inside, her movements gentle as she took in the modest interior. Julius followed her in, his gaze catching on the woven basket she clutched at her side. The deep red wood was unmistakable, Oathwood, a tree that only grew in the western reaches of the Aurelian Kingdom. Its bark was known to be rich as wine, streaked with veins of black, a wood prized by artisans for its durability. It was a rare sight this far east, and certainly not something one would casually carry.

His frown deepened. That, paired with her dress, a style unlike the simple garments of the village, marked her as a foreigner. So why did she act as though she belonged?

They sat in silence for a moment, the crackling of the fireplace filling the space between them. Julius studied her, trying to place what about her presence left him so uneasy. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t suspicion. It was something else. Something he didn’t want to name.

She turned to him slowly, her hands gripping her basket that rested on her lap as though steadying herself. "Was I right?" she asked, her voice quiet but firm. "Is your name Julius?"

His stomach twisted. "...Yes."

A flicker of something, relief maybe, crossed her face. "I thought so," she murmured, her fingers loosening. "It felt right when I said it. But I wasn’t sure."

Julius’s throat was dry. "What do you mean? you knew my name but you didn't know if you was correct?" trying to make sense of the confusing situation.

She hesitated, as if searching for the words. "I was just a normal girl," she began. "I lived in Aurelian my whole life. My family was nothing special, just merchants. I never had any reason to leave." She looked down, as though the memory itself was distant now. "But then I had a dream. I don’t remember all of it, just flashes, feelings. A pull toward something, toward someone."

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She exhaled slowly. "And when I woke up, I wasn’t the same. The world didn’t feel the same. I knew I had to travel, though I didn’t know why. I just walked. The feeling grew stronger, guiding me. And now, I’m here."

Julius stared at her, Every word she spoke only deepened the unease curling in his chest. He wanted to believe it was nonsense, just the ramblings of a girl lost in a fantasy. But the way she looked at him, the way she said his name, the way her very presence twisted something inside of him,

It wasn’t nonsense.

He swallowed. "And you don’t know why..."

She shook her head. "No. Only that I was meant to find someone named julius... that names echoed in my head since that dream and only now that im here, sat across the table from you has it stopped repeating itself"

Julius exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. He should send her away. This was madness. But he didn’t move.

Because for the first time since Catherine’s death, he felt something other than grief.

And that terrified him.

Julius leaned forward slightly, his voice cautious. "This dream… when was it? Do you remember the exact day?"

Stella furrowed her brow, thinking. "It was… six months ago. I remember because when I woke, the air felt different. It was the first night of the Harvest Moon."

His breath caught in his throat. The Harvest Moon. That was the night Catherine had died.

Julius felt cold, his fingers curling into his palms as the weight of her words settled over him. It was impossible coincidence, surely. And yet, his mind rebelled against reason, whispering that there was something more at play.

"You’ve been traveling for six months," he said, more to himself than to her.

She nodded. "Yes. The moment I woke from that dream, I started walking."

Julius swallowed hard, His heart begged him to ask the question he feared most but he refused.

Who had she been before that night?

And who was she now?

Julius glanced around the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of Catherine, as if her presence might somehow ease the suffocating weight of this moment. But the room was empty just the familiar walls, the worn furniture, the memories. His gaze slowly drifted back to Stella, who sat across the table, watching him with an unreadable expression.

“My wife… she died on the same day you had this dream…” His voice faltered, thick with grief, barely a whisper as it hung between them.

The words had hardly left his lips when Stella spoke, her voice soft, almost detached. “Catherine?”

Julius froze, the name spoken by a stranger causing his heart to stumble in his chest. He had not mentioned her. How could she possibly know?

Stella remained still, her gaze fixed on him, her head tilting ever so slightly. A chilling silence stretched between them before a sound, soft yet haunting, filled the room. It should have been calming, soothing even, but it instead tightened Julius’s chest, making his breath catch in his throat.

Stella began to hum.