AELIA REVA
The further I walk into this house, the heavier the air gets.
Not in a bad way. Not dangerous.
Just… dense.
The kind of dense that makes your skin buzz and your lungs work harder. Like the atmosphere is filled with something old and powerful and aware of you.
I swallow the knot forming in my throat and look around, wide-eyed.
Maria said she left the book in her reading room upstairs. She gave me the directions, "first left after the chandelier hall, third door, the one with the rose crest", but nothing could have prepared me for what this house felt like.
It's silent. Not quiet.... silent. No clocks ticking. No birds outside. Just the soft thud of my boots on polished wood floors.
The mansion is grand. Thick velvet drapes. Old portraits. Ornate wooden molding crawling up the walls. There's a feeling here. One that wraps around your ribs and makes your chest feel too tight.
I turn into a hallway, and something pulls me toward a set of large oil paintings.
People. Pale. Regal. Most in pairs.
But one of them… she catches my eye. A woman with dark auburn hair and a crown of flame drawn faintly above her head. Her hands glimmer in the painting, almost like real fire is licking at her fingers. Her eyes are soft, but sad, a sadness that feels eerily familiar.
There's no nameplate on this one.
I can't move.
My throat tightens, my chest aches, and that's when it happens.
The air heats.
My fingers tingle.
A flicker of warmth starts in my palms and crawls up my arms like vines made of smoke. My magic....it's reacting!
Not because I called it, but because it felt something. It knows something.
No, no, not now!
My heart races. Sparks dance across my skin, my palms glowing faint orange.
I stagger back a step, clutching at my chest. I can't breathe. My magic is rising too fast. It's not wild, but it's not listening to me either. I try to push it down, like stuffing lightning into a bottle.
And that's when I feel it.
Him.
Before I even see him, I feel him.
The warmth shifts, not the fire kind, the Ulric kind.
Then his voice cuts through the storm in my head. Low. Steady. Calming.
"Aelia."
I turn fast, too fast, and there he is.
Standing in the hallway entrance, backlit by faint golden light from the chandelier behind him. His eyes are locked on mine. His entire body tense, alert, like he could sense something was off from a mile away.
"I— I didn't mean to—" I start to say, panicked. Gasping for air.
But he's already walking.
Calm. Controlled. Power rolling off of him in quiet waves.
When he reaches me, he doesn't touch me, not at first. He just steps close enough for me to feel his presence. Like he is gravity. Like my fire doesn't know how to burn without checking in with him first.
"Look at me," he says gently.
I do.
And just like that, my breathing slows.
The fire eases back.
His hand lifts slowly, deliberately. "May I?"
I nod, and he places his palm gently against my cheek.
It's grounding.
It's real.
The magic recedes like a tide returning to sea.
We just stay there like that for a moment, his hand on my cheek, my eyes on his, heart still racing.
"You calmed it down," I whisper.
He gives me a small, barely-there smile. "No. You did. I just helped you focus."
Silence. But it's not heavy anymore.
Then he says softly, "I was worried about you."
I blink, surprised. "You were… gone."
He sighs and drops his hand, stepping back just enough to give me space, like he knows how easily I build walls.
"There was an emergency. Two of our scouts were attacked near the east woods. A rogue pack crossed into our land. I had to track and remove the threat, it took longer than I wanted."
My lips part, but no words come out.
"Being Alpha means carrying the town," he says. "But I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about you every single damn hour I was away."
My eyes flicker to the floor, heat rising to my cheeks. "You don't have to say things like that."
"I'm not saying it for you to believe," he replies. "I'm saying it because it's true."
The silence that follows isn't awkward.
It's fragile.
Like something new is starting, and we're both holding our breath waiting to see if it survives.
"How did you get here?," he says eventually, voice gentler now.
"Um Maria needed a book, she sent me to get it for her ," I answer, clearing my throat. "Maria said she left it in her reading room."
He nods once. "Follow me."
He leads me down the hallway and up the curved stairs. He walks with quiet certainty, like every creak and corner of this house knows him. Of course it does. It's his.
I follow behind him, watching the way his shoulders shift beneath his jacket, the way he runs a hand through his hair absentmindedly as we climb.
When we reach the room, he opens the door and walks in first, picking up a thick crimson book resting on a carved table near the window.
"This one?" he asks, glancing back at me.
I nod.
He walks back and hands it to me, our fingers brushing as I take it. My stomach flips and I quickly take a step back, gripping the book to my chest like a shield.
I feel him watching me.
And then his voice breaks the silence again, quieter this time.
"Do I scare you?"
I blink up at him, startled.
"What?"
He tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing just a bit.
"You keep distance. Always. Like you're waiting for me to break something."
I press my lips together, struggling for words.
He doesn't push.
He just waits.
Finally, I whisper, "I'm not scared of you, Ulric. I'm scared of… not being enough for you."
And that's where I leave it.
Because that's the truth.
And right now, it's all I can give.
❦︎ To Be Continued ❦︎