Chapter 1 — Three Dollars

The night I met him, I had three dollars in my pocket.

Three dollars.

That was all I had left after paying for my mother's medicine.

I stood beneath a broken streetlamp, watching the rain slide down the hospital windows across the street.

My shoes were soaked.

My hair was sticking to my face.

And my stomach had been empty since morning.

But none of that mattered.

My mother was inside.

That was all that mattered.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and looked at the screen.

11:47 PM.

Three missed calls from the hospital.

My heart sank.

I called back immediately.

A nurse answered.

“Ms. Vale?”

“Yes?”

“We need to talk about your mother's payment.”

I closed my eyes.

“I know. I'll have it tomorrow.”

There was a pause.

“Tomorrow?”

“I promise.”

The truth was, I had no idea where the money would come from.

But sometimes a promise was all a poor person could afford to make.

When the call ended, I put my phone away and looked across the street.

That was when I saw him.

A man standing in the middle of the rain.

He wasn't holding an umbrella.

He wasn't trying to find shelter.

He simply stood there.

Motionless.

He looked completely out of place.

His black coat reached almost to his knees, and strange silver embroidery ran along the edges. His dark hair was wet, falling over his forehead.

He looked like someone who had walked out of an old painting.

I glanced around.

There were no cars.

No pedestrians.

Just him.

Something about the way he stood there made me uneasy.

I crossed the street.

“Are you okay?”

The man turned.

And I froze.

His eyes were unlike any eyes I had ever seen.

They were gray.

But there was something almost silver hidden inside them.

He stared at me as if he had been waiting for me.

“Where am I?”

I frowned.

“You're in the city.”

He looked around.

“The city?”

“Yes.”

He seemed confused.

“What kingdom is this?”

I almost laughed.

“Kingdom?”

“Yes.”

“This isn't a kingdom.”

He stared at me.

Then his expression changed.

For the first time, I saw fear.

Real fear.

He whispered something under his breath.

“No…”

“What?”

He looked toward the sky.

“How long?”

“How long what?”

“How long has it been?”

I had no idea what he was talking about.

“It's 2026.”

The man's face went completely pale.

He took one step backward.

“Impossible.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No.”

“Then maybe you're lost.”

He looked at me again.

“Yes.”

He slowly lowered his head.

“I am very lost.”

I should have walked away.

I knew that.

Every sensible instinct inside me was screaming to leave this strange man alone.

Instead, I asked:

“What's your name?”

He hesitated.

Then he answered.

“Elias.”

“Elias what?”

His eyes met mine.

“Just Elias.”

I nodded.

“I'm Elara.”

He repeated my name softly.

“Elara.”

I don't know why.

But hearing my name from his lips felt strangely familiar.

As if I had heard it before.

In a dream.

A dream I couldn't remember.

Then lightning flashed across the sky.

For a split second, the man's silver eyes seemed to glow.

I stepped back.

He noticed.

“You saw that?”

“Saw what?”

He smiled faintly.

“Nothing.”

The rain became heavier.

I looked at the hospital.

Then back at him.

“You need somewhere to stay?”

He stared at me.

“You would help a stranger?”

“I shouldn't.”

“No.”

“But you look like you need help.”

He was silent.

Then he said something that I would remember for the rest of my life.

“I was beginning to think I would never find someone like you.”

I frowned.

“Someone like me?”

He didn't answer.

Instead, he looked toward the hospital.

“Who is inside?”

“My mother.”

“Is she ill?”

“Yes.”

He nodded slowly.

“Then I will help you.”

I laughed bitterly.

“With what?”

He looked at me.

“You don't know who I am.”

“No.”

“Neither do you know what I can do.”

I shook my head.

“You're strange.”

For the first time, he smiled.

And somehow, despite the cold rain and the terrible night...

I smiled back.

I didn't know it then.

But that was the moment my ordinary life ended.

I took Elias to a small café near the hospital.

It was the only place still open.

He sat across from me, staring at the menu like it was written in an unknown language.

“You've never seen a menu?”

“I have.”

“Then why are you staring at it?”

“Because I don't understand half of it.”

I laughed.

“Where did you say you were from?”

He looked at me.

“A very distant place.”

“Another country?”

“Yes.”

“Which one?”

He hesitated.

“It's complicated.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Of course it is.”

The waitress brought our drinks.

Elias stared at the coffee.

“What is this?”

I nearly choked.

“Coffee.”

He picked up the cup carefully.

“You drink this?”

“Yes.”

He took a sip.

His expression changed.

He looked genuinely horrified.

I burst out laughing.

“You hate it?”

“What is it?”

“Coffee!”

“Why would anyone willingly drink this?”

“Because some of us have jobs.”

He looked confused.

“You work?”

“Yes.”

“What do you do?”

“Anything that pays.”

I looked down at my hands.

“I clean offices during the day. Sometimes I work at a restaurant at night.”

He was silent.

“You work that much?”

“I have to.”

“For your mother?”

“Yes.”

He looked away.

There was something strange about his expression.

Almost sadness.

“What about your father?”

I stiffened.

“He's dead.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.”

It wasn't.

But I had learned a long time ago that poor people didn't have the luxury of grieving forever.

I changed the subject.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Family.”

His fingers tightened around the coffee cup.

“I had a father.”

“Had?”

“He is dead.”

“And your mother?”

He didn't answer.

I realized I had asked too much.

“Sorry.”

He looked at me.

“My mother is alive.”

Something in his voice told me there was more.

But he didn't continue.

A few minutes later, he looked at the phone on the table.

“What is that?”

“My phone.”

“What does it do?”

I stared at him.

“You're kidding.”

“No.”

I picked it up.

“You really don't know?”

“No.”

I showed him the screen.

He watched carefully.

“You can speak to someone who is far away?”

“Yes.”

“Without seeing them?”

“Yes.”

His expression became thoughtful.

“That sounds like magic.”

I laughed.

“You really are strange.”

He smiled.

“Perhaps your world is strange.”

I looked at him.

“What do you mean?”

He said nothing.

Later that night, I gave him my spare key.

He stared at it.

“You trust me?”

“No.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I don't?”

“I said you could stay. I didn't say I trusted you.”

He smiled.

“That is fair.”

I walked toward the door.

“Elara.”

I turned.

“Yes?”

He looked at me for a long moment.

“Thank you.”

I smiled.

“Good night, Elias.”

When I reached my apartment, I noticed something strange.

There was a small silver mark on the palm of my hand.

I had never seen it before.

It looked like a crescent moon surrounded by tiny stars.

I rubbed it.

It disappeared.

I thought nothing of it.

I should have.

Elias didn't sleep.

At least, I never saw him sleep.

For three nights, I woke up at strange hours and found him sitting beside the window.

Always watching the sky.

On the fourth night, I finally asked him.

“Do you ever sleep?”

“No.”

“Everyone sleeps.”

“Not everyone.”

I stared at him.

“You're not normal.”

“I know.”

He looked outside.

“The moon is different here.”

“What?”

“In my world, it is larger.”

I laughed.

“You've been watching too many movies.”

He looked at me seriously.

“I don't know what movies are.”

I sighed.

“Right.”

He turned toward me.

“Tell me about your world.”

I sat beside him.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

I smiled.

“That's going to take a while.”

“Then we have time.”

I looked at him.

For some reason, that sentence made my chest tighten.

We talked until sunrise.

I told him about my mother.

My childhood.

My terrible jobs.

My dreams.

Or rather, the lack of them.

“What do you want?” he asked.

I thought about it.

“I want my mother to get better.”

“That's not a dream.”

“It is for me.”

He looked at me differently.

“You don't want anything for yourself?”

I shrugged.

“Maybe one day.”

“What?”

I smiled.

“A house somewhere quiet.”

“Anything else?”

“Someone who doesn't leave.”

His expression changed.

“Why?”

“My father did.”

I looked away.

“He promised he'd stay.”

Elias didn't say anything.

Then he reached for my hand.

His fingers touched mine.

Warm.

Gentle.

“I won't leave.”

I laughed softly.

“You don't even know me.”

“I know enough.”

“Elias…”

“I mean it.”

I looked into his eyes.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then he pulled his hand away.

As if he had suddenly remembered something.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You're hiding something.”

“Yes.”

“What?”

He looked toward the window.

“Everything.”

Elias found a job at a private company.

I never understood how.

He had no documents.

No identification.

No history.

No address.

Yet somehow, he walked into an office one morning and walked out with a position as a financial consultant.

“That's impossible,” I told him.

He shrugged.

“Apparently not.”

“How much are they paying you?”

“Enough.”

“That's not an answer.”

He smiled.

“You ask too many questions.”

“And you give too few answers.”

He laughed.

It became our routine.

I asked.

He avoided.

I complained.

He smiled.

And somehow, without noticing, I started waiting for him to come home.

One evening, he arrived carrying a small box.

“What is that?”

“For you.”

I stared at it.

“Why?”

“Open it.”

Inside was a necklace.

A small silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon.

I touched it.

“It's beautiful.”

“It belonged to my mother.”

I immediately closed the box.

“I can't take this.”

“You can.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because it's important.”

He took the necklace from the box.

Then he gently placed it around my neck.

“It was waiting for you.”

I froze.

“What does that mean?”

He looked at the pendant.

“I don't know.”

That night, I dreamed of a castle.

A woman stood in a field of white flowers.

She was holding a baby.

And beside her stood a man wearing a crown.

The woman looked directly at me.

Then she whispered:

“Find my son.”

I woke up screaming.

Elias was standing beside my bed.

“Elara!”

I grabbed his arm.

“I saw them.”

“Who?”

“A woman.”

His face changed.

“What did she look like?”

“I don't know.”

“Tell me.”

“She was wearing a silver crown.”

Elias stopped breathing.

“What?”

“She said something.”

“What did she say?”

I stared at him.

“Find my son.”

He stepped backward.

His face had gone completely white.

“Elara…”

“What?”

“Did you see her face?”

“Yes.”

He whispered:

“That was my mother.”