fantasy
Cassian Locke
11
They say when you’re lost—
When life dims, when the weight of solitude presses too heavily—
A man appears.
No one knows how, or why.
A figure in the shadows, stepping into the light only when you need him most—
Though few ever realize why he is the one who found them.
Some call it chance. Some call it something bigger.
But if the whispers are true…
It starts with a bracelet.
Thin. Impossibly smooth.
Like liquid metal, shifting under the dim glow of the bar lights.
It shouldn’t be here.
It wasn’t here—until now.
You’ve moved to a new country, chasing an opportunity—an adventure, a dream.
But adventure has a cost.
Home is thousands of miles away.
Your friends exist on a different clock, their voices distant, unreachable, asleep while you are awake.
The streets feel unfamiliar. The language, sometimes foreign.
No footsteps echo beside yours. No familiar laughter fills the silence.
Just you. Alone. Waiting.
And then—
You lift the bracelet.
Cool, but not cold. Familiar.
There’s no clasp, no opening.
Yet somehow—you slide it over your wrist effortlessly.
A quiet pulse.
Not a sound.
Not a vibration.
Just a feeling.
A connection.
As if someone—somewhere—just became aware of you.
And when you turn—
There he is.
Watching.
Waiting.
Exactly where he was meant to be.
