The rain came quietly that night — not in storms or thunder, but in a soft drizzle that whispered across the roofs of Eloria. The world seemed half-asleep, wrapped in mist, as if the heavens themselves were mourning something unseen.
Aiden walked through the village path with a lantern in his hand, its golden light flickering against the wet leaves. He hadn't seen Lyra in three nights. Normally, she would wait for him by the lake, smiling like the moon itself, her silver hair glowing faintly in the dark.
But lately, the lake had been still — too still.
No shimmer of her magic, no laughter that danced on the wind.
He tried to tell himself she was busy, or perhaps resting. But the truth gnawed at him like frost on the skin — something wasn't right.
---
When he reached the lake, the sight before him stopped his heart.
Lyra was there — kneeling by the shore, her hands pressed against the water. But the glow that usually surrounded her was dim, fading like a dying candle. Her hair clung wet to her face, her eyes dull with exhaustion.
"Lyra!" Aiden ran forward and caught her before she fell. Her body was cold, unnaturally cold, as if the warmth of life was slowly leaving her.
She looked up weakly, forcing a faint smile. "You shouldn't be here…"
"I should be where you are," he said, voice trembling. "What's happening to you?"
Lyra's gaze drifted to the lake. "The connection… is breaking. The Veiled Forest is dying. The spirits that give me strength are fading."
Aiden shook his head. "Then let me help. Tell me what to do."
She closed her eyes. "You can't, Aiden. This world… your world… it's rejecting me. I don't belong here for long. Every day I stay, I lose a part of my power — a part of myself."
His hands tightened around hers. "Then don't leave. We'll find a way. I'll go to the elders, the mages—"
"They can't fix what fate has written," she said softly. "When a spirit-touched soul lingers outside her realm too long, her essence fades until she disappears completely."
Her words shattered something deep inside him. "Disappear?"
She nodded faintly. "Like a dream at dawn."
---
They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the raindrops hitting the lake's surface.
Aiden wanted to say a thousand things — stay, don't go, I'll find a way, I love you — but every word felt too fragile for the moment. So instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver ring.
It wasn't beautiful. Just a simple band he had made from melted metal scraps. But to him, it was everything he wanted to give.
"I made this," he said, voice quiet. "It's not magic. But maybe… it can remind you of me."
Lyra looked at it for a long moment. Then she smiled — a smile that broke and healed him all at once. "You're strange, Aiden. Always giving warmth when you have so little to spare."
He tried to joke. "Maybe that's my magic."
She laughed softly — the kind of laugh that made the world pause. She took the ring and slipped it on her finger. "Then I'll treasure this warmth. For as long as I can."
---
The following days grew colder.
Lyra's visits became shorter, her glow weaker. The lake's light began to fade too, as if mourning her strength.
Aiden refused to let go. Every morning he searched for ways — scrolls, legends, even the old hermit by the mountain who once claimed to speak to stars. But nothing worked. The truth became harder to deny.
She was fading.
And with her, so was the light that made his world brighter.
---
One evening, as twilight bled into night, he found her again by the lake — standing still, staring at the water's reflection.
"Aiden," she said softly, "do you ever wonder why people fall in love even when they know it will hurt?"
He looked at her, his throat tightening. "Because some things are worth the pain."
She turned to him, eyes shimmering faintly. "You always say the right things… even when it breaks you."
He took a step closer. "Then don't let me lose you. Please."
Lyra shook her head slowly. "You won't lose me. Even when I'm gone… the forest will remember. The water will remember. And maybe… your heart will too."
Tears burned his eyes. "That's not enough. I don't want memories. I want you."
For a moment, her lips parted — as if she wanted to say something, something that might change everything. But instead, she only reached out and touched his cheek.
"You already have me," she whispered. "You just can't keep me."
Then she kissed his forehead — a brief, trembling touch that carried all the love she couldn't speak.
And in that single moment, Aiden understood the truth that hurt more than any goodbye:
sometimes, even when love is mutual… it still isn't meant to stay.
---
The next morning, Lyra was gone.
Only her bracelet — the one he'd woven for her — floated on the lake's surface, glimmering faintly in the dawn light.
Aiden fell to his knees, the cold water lapping against his hands.
And as the first rays of sunlight touched the horizon, the lake began to hum — the same melody she once sang.
The Bloom That Never Returned.