Areal's day was already terrible.
He'd woken up late, missed his bus, spilled coffee on himself, and now—
Now he was being chased through an alley by three masked strangers with glowing tattoos.
Typical Tuesday.
His breath tore out of him in shallow gulps as he sprinted through the narrow brick-lined corridor. The men behind him were fast—too fast for normal humans. Their footfalls echoed like drumbeats, gaining on him with every second.
"Great," he muttered between wheezes. "Of course today is the day I get murdered by glow-stick ninjas."
He skidded around a sharp corner—
—and slammed into a woman.
Hard.
She didn't stumble.
She didn't wobble.
She didn't even react.
Areal hit her like a speeding bowling ball hitting a granite statue. He bounced off her and landed flat on his back, air punched clean out of his lungs.
"Watch it!" he snapped, struggling to breathe.
The woman raised a single unimpressed eyebrow.
"Maybe don't sprint through alleys like a feral raccoon?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Areal shot back, "I didn't realize the universe installed a brick wall with attitude in the middle of the street."
"Brick walls don't talk back."
He opened his mouth to fire another insult—
—but his vision flickered.
Just for a second.
Her hoodie was gone.
Her jeans vanished.
She was suddenly wearing ancient armor—dented, scorched, splattered with blood. Smoke curled behind her. A battlefield stretched endlessly around them. Bodies. Fire. Steel.
She stared at him with eyes colder than death itself and said:
"Areal Devyn… your life ends here."
He choked.
The vision snapped away.
Reality slammed back.
"What—what was that?" he blurted.
The woman stared at him with the same shocked expression he wore.
"You…" she whispered. "You were in my dream. No—my memory."
The glowing-tattoo attackers finally rounded the corner.
Areal grabbed her wrist.
"Okay, whatever this is, we can panic later. Run!"
She didn't move.
Instead she tightened her grip, yanked him behind her like a sack of potatoes, stepped forward—
—and punched the nearest attacker so hard he ricocheted off the opposite wall and collapsed in a heap.
Areal gaped.
"What—are you INSANE? That guy had a sword!"
She rolled her shoulders with aggravating calm.
"He swung too slow."
"I WAS RUNNING FOR MY LIFE!"
"You run slow too."
Areal stared at her, torn between offense and awe.
"Who even ARE you?!"
She finally looked at him directly—annoyed, frustrated, and somehow disgusted.
"Someone who doesn't know you, doesn't like you, and REALLY doesn't want to be in the same alley as you."
A faint light pulsed between their hands.
Areal froze.
"What—what is that?!"
The woman jerked her hand back as the glow faded, like she'd touched something rotten.
"No idea," she said, voice sharp. "But if it's your fault, I'm hitting you next."
Areal threw his hands up.
"Why would it be MY fault?!"
She pointed at him like it was obvious.
"Because everything about today was perfectly normal until you crash-tackled me out of nowhere."
"Oh yeah?" Areal snapped. "Well everything about my day was perfectly normal until some cosplaying cultists tried to slice me into sushi, so forgive me for being a LITTLE stressed!"
"Keep it down," she hissed. "You're loud."
"I'm being hunted!"
"And you sound whiny."
"YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW ME!"
"AND I DON'T WANT TO!"
Another attacker staggered to his feet behind them.
She didn't even look—just kicked backward, heel connecting clean with the man's jaw. He dropped instantly.
Areal blinked.
"Okay, seriously—who ARE you?! Some kind of violent superhero?!"
She brushed dust off her sleeve.
"No. I'm someone who was trying to get lunch before you ruined everything."
They stared at each other—breathing hard, annoyed, confused, and mutually convinced that the other person was the problem.
The third attacker groaned on the ground.
Areal pointed weakly.
"Should we… do something about him?"
She sighed.
"Fine."
Her fist hit the man before Areal even saw her move.
Silence settled over the alley.
Areal finally exhaled.
"Okay. So either we're both hallucinating, or something REALLY weird is going on."
She crossed her arms.
"No hallucination makes me this annoyed."
Areal opened his mouth to argue—
But that strange light flickered between them again.
Faint.
Warm.
Unwanted.
Both of them jerked away from each other at the same time.
Areal swallowed.
"Oh. Perfect. Just what I needed."
Areal yanked the woman forward as they ran deeper down the alley, feet slapping the pavement.
Her grip stayed tight—annoyingly so.
"Let go!" he snapped.
"No," she said flatly, dragging him faster.
"Why not!?"
"Because if I let go, you might trip over air again."
"I DID NOT TRIP— I was being chased!"
She didn't respond.
He wasn't sure she even acknowledged the idea that he was a living person with feelings.
The alley opened into a quiet street, moonlight reflecting off puddles. Areal bent over, sucking air.
The woman looked barely winded.
"So," she said calmly, "those men—do you know them?"
"I was hoping YOU did!" he barked. "Because unless I committed a crime in my sleep—someone's after me for no reason!"
Her eyes narrowed.
She folded her arms.
"You're lying."
"What? How—how dare you just—"
"That vision," she cut in. "The battlefield. You saw it too."
Areal stiffened.
He had been trying very hard to ignore that part.
"It wasn't a vision," she said, more to herself than to him. "It wasn't fabricated. It was a memory."
"Lady, I've never fought in a battlefield— I get winded climbing two flights of stairs!"
She stepped closer.
Too close.
Areal took a step back until his heel hit a dumpster.
Without touching him, her presence radiated hostility—
like her stare alone could slice open a person.
"When you ran into me," she said quietly, "my body reacted on its own."
"Yeah, mine too, because you hit like a—"
"No." She cut him off. "Not impact. Instinct."
He blinked.
"What?"
"My instinct was to draw a blade."
Areal's heart skipped.
"And my instinct," she added, "was to aim for your throat."
Areal made an unmanly sound.
"WHAT— WHY— LADY, WHAT KIND OF— THAT IS NOT A NORMAL THOUGHT TO HAVE!"
She scowled.
"I didn't say I did it. Only that… my body remembered something."
"Oh fantastic. You're violent and my trauma is imaginary. Great start."
A sudden pulse of light burst between their hands.
They both flinched back as a faint tether, barely visible, flickered between their chests like a thin thread of gold.
"…What is that?" Areal whispered.
She stared at it with pure disgust.
"A bond," she said. "One I don't want."
"Join the club," Areal muttered.
The tether pulsed again—
and both of them felt it.
A flash.
A battlefield.
Swords clashing.
Her blade at his throat.
His dagger pressed to her ribs.
Two enemies locked in a fatal standstill.
A thunderclap snapped them back to the present.
Areal stumbled away, horrified.
"No. Nope. No thank you. I am not reincarnated. I am not bonded. I am not—whatever this is."
The woman crossed her arms, jaw tight.
"You're Areal Devyn," she said.
"And I…" she hesitated.
"...am Seris Valora."
He froze.
"Do I look like I recognize that name!?"
"You should. In every memory, you screamed it right before you died."
Areal stared at her.
Seris stared back.
A single leaf drifted by on the wind.
Areal finally whispered:
"This… is the worst Tuesday of my entire existence."