She vanished just as the year ended.


The fireworks in the night sky blazed in vibrant reds and golds, a celebration of new beginnings, yet for Will, the colors blurred as tears filled his eyes. The crowd in the square cheered, couples kissed, and strangers exchanged wishes for a brighter year, but he stood frozen, staring at the empty space where Lily had been just moments before.


She had been holding his hand, her fingers icy despite the thick gloves. They’d been talking about their resolutions—hers to learn French, his to finally take that photography trip to Iceland—when her voice caught mid-sentence. He’d turned to find her gazing over his shoulder, her wide brown eyes fixed on something he couldn’t see. Then, without a word, she let go of his hand and stepped backward into the mist that had inexplicably rolled in from the riverbank.


“Lily?” he had called, the rising panic in his voice swallowed by the crackle of fireworks. “Lily!”


But she was gone.


The police didn’t take him seriously at first. People vanished every New Year’s Eve, they told him, often reappearing the next morning after a night of too much champagne and too little sense. But Will knew better. Lily wasn’t like that. She wasn’t impulsive, and she wasn’t a drunk.


It wasn’t until he showed them the photograph that they started to listen.


The picture had been taken moments before midnight, when they’d asked a stranger to capture the last memory of the year. It was a perfect shot of them, bundled in scarves and grinning against the backdrop of the glittering city. Except now, in the photo, Lily was already fading.


Her outline blurred, her features indistinct.


Days turned into weeks. Will combed the city for answers, visiting the square at all hours, asking the same questions to anyone who might have seen something unusual that night. He became obsessed with the fog—how it hadn’t been in the forecast, how it had seemed to cling only to that small section of the square.


The search consumed him, and the world moved on. Friends offered sympathy at first, but their patience wore thin. “You need to let it go, Will,” they said. “She left. People leave.”


But Will couldn’t.


Then, on the 33rd day after her disappearance, he found it.


He had returned to the square as he always did, camera slung over his shoulder. He’d taken to photographing the space obsessively, hoping to capture something he’d missed. This time, the lens picked up something new—a faint shimmer in the air, barely perceptible against the backdrop of the city.


Heart racing, he followed the shimmer. It led him down the cobblestone streets and toward the riverbank, where the mist had rolled in that night. There, just beyond the railings, stood an archway—a crumbling stone structure covered in vines, which hadn’t been there before.


The air around it pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat.


He stepped closer, his breath visible in the cold air.


Inside the archway, the world changed.


The city’s noise faded, replaced by a stillness so complete it felt like stepping into a vacuum. The air shimmered like heatwaves, distorting the landscape beyond. And then, there she was.


Lily stood in the center of a field, her hair glowing faintly in the light of an unseen sun. She turned as he called her name, her face lighting up with a mixture of joy and confusion.


“Will? How did you—”


But her words were cut off by a low rumble that shook the ground beneath them. The shimmering air grew erratic, flickering like a failing lightbulb.


“You can’t stay here!” she shouted, running toward him. “It’s not safe!”


“I’m not leaving without you!”


She reached for his hand, but the moment their fingers touched, a searing pain shot through him, forcing him to let go. The light around her grew brighter, blinding him as her voice echoed:


“Find me again!”


When Will awoke, he was back in the square, the archway gone as if it had never existed.


But in his pocket, he found something that hadn’t been there before—a small silver pendant shaped like a key, its surface engraved with symbols he couldn’t understand.


It wasn’t over. He’d find her again, no matter how many years it took.