It didn't begin with them. It began with a secret buried so deep, it forgot its own name. But blood remembers. Even when minds don't. Even when love tries to disguise it as fate. He saw her and didn't understand why his hands trembled. She met his eyes and felt the chill of a memory that wasn't hers. Something was waiting-patient, rotting, watching. Not in the dark. But in the silence. They think they're falling in love. But the truth is older than desire. Hungrier than obsession. And far more dangerous than either of them could ever imagine.