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“I am rarely mistaken, and I'm certain I'm not mistaken about this.”

“Destiny,” he said my name in a low, almost tender tone in contrast to the conversation we were having. “Yesterday was a strange day. You can't trust your memory.”

“That's a very elegant way of calling me delusional.”

“I would never call you delusional.” Tristan's gaze dropped to my mouth, just a glance and then back to my eyes. “I would call you too observant.”

I continued down the corridor, leaving him to follow me. He caught up in two strides and held the door open for me. Sabrina was still bent over her work, oblivious, so I took Tristan to the reliquary, opened it, and removed the cover on the silver piece.

Tristan inhaled sharply.

“I found this under the damage. Look familiar?”

When he didn't move, I brought the lamp closer and turned it on. Still, Tristan stood there, just staring at the piece.

“As you can see, the symbols are identical.” I moved my phone beside the silver piece and tapped it back to life to bring the photo up.

Tristan reached for the silver piece as I withdrew my hand, crossing above it, and we touched. A tingle shot from him to me, and the lab disappeared.

I stood in a street I'd never walked before, cobbled and narrow, lit by firelight. Flames danced against the sky, feeding on an ancient structure. In front of me was the same stone wall I'd seen in the photograph from Stylos. The symbol was as I remembered except untouched by time. People ran past me, through me, screaming in a language I didn't speak but understood in the way you understand things in a dream.

A woman's voice rose above the rest, raw and furious, “The monster did this, he brought death upon us.”

And in the center of the chaos, untouched by the fire and somehow worse for it, stood Tristan with tears streaming down his face.

The vision released me, leaving my knees weak and my throat raw as though I'd been the one screaming. Tristan was gripping my hand, and his face had gone the color of old parchment, stripped of all composure.

“What did you see?” Whatever accent lived under his English surfaced again, even stronger than before, but I still I couldn't place it.

I described the vision, watching his face. “What was that?” I looked down at our joined hands. “What just happened?”

Tristan dropped my hand as his face shut down. “You need to stay away from this reliquary. Get someone else to repair it.”

“Why?”

“Because it's dangerous.” He stepped back, already reaching for the composure he wore like armor.

“You're not behaving like someone who thinks this artifact is dangerous.” I held his gaze, refusing to let him retreat.

I'd never had a vision before, and I was a hundred percent sure I'd had this one because of him. It felt paranormal. I should be terrified or denying what just happened. But my grandma had prepared me for this. I may not have believed her then, but she'd laid a foundation for me to refer to if needed. So, I wasn't scared. I was excited.

“Don't look at me like that. I'm trying to help you. Hand this off to another conservator. Please, just trust me on this.” Tristan turned and walked toward the door, spine straight.

“Why did you come back today?” I called after him. “Tristan, what was that vision?”

He just kept going. I felt like the paparazzi harassing a celebrity. Especially when I grabbed my phone and silently snapped a photo of him. I caught his profile and his reflection in the mirror over the sink. But as I lowered the phone, I realized there was something wrong with his reflection.

The man in the mirror was looking at me with eyes full of longing. Meanwhile, the real Tristan pulled the door open and stepped outside with his head bowed. A shiver slid down the back of my neck and settled between my shoulder blades.

I gaped after him long after the door closed. I'd been so intent on getting answers from Tristan, but he'd only left me with more questions. Who was he? What was he? Why did he have an ancient symbol on his skin? How did he get it? Why did touching him give me a vision? Was it really him in the vision? And if it was, how was Tristan still alive. Because I was certain the vision was of a time when the monastery was young.

Hundreds of years ago.

Sabrina pulled off her headphones. “What the hell is wrong with you? You looked like you've seen a ghost.”

“I hadn't considered that option.”

Chapter Four