The Ashlands were nothing like Evelyn imagined.
Once a lush forest, now it stood as a twisted graveyard of blackened trees and ghost-white fog. The air smelled of scorched earth and wet ash. Every step crackled beneath their boots. No birds. No wind. Just silence, thick and heavy.
Lucien scanned the dark woods carefully. "Stay close. The trees here... they're not dead. Just sleeping."
Evelyn looked around uneasily. "How do trees sleep?"
"They're not really trees anymore. Seraphine poisoned the roots with her blood. Now they feed on fear."
She swallowed hard. "Good to know."
As they moved deeper, the fog thickened. Shapes flickered between the trees. Shadows without bodies. Whispers that had no source.
Evelyn gripped Moonfang tightly. "They're watching us."
Lucien nodded. "They always are."
After what felt like hours, they reached an old stone bridge stretching over a dry riverbed. The stones were cracked, overgrown with black moss.
Halfway across, a sound echoed from behind them—a low growl.
Lucien stopped. "Don't turn around."
Evelyn froze. "Why?"
"Because the hound of the Ashlands only hunts what sees it."
The growl came closer.
Then, a wet sniffing sound.
Lucien whispered, "Evelyn. On my mark... run."
"But—"
"Now!"
They bolted. The moment Evelyn turned, she saw it—a massive, eyeless wolf, black as night, with ribs exposed and burning red inside like coals. It roared and charged.
They ran.
The bridge cracked beneath them. Stones crumbled.
Lucien turned and slashed with his blade—meeting the creature midair.
Boom!
It collided with him, sending them both flying off the side of the bridge into the dry riverbed below.
"Lucien!" Evelyn screamed.
She landed hard, pain shooting through her leg. Dust filled the air. She scrambled up—and found Lucien lying still beside the shattered body of the hound.
She rushed to him. "Lucien?!"
He groaned. "Still alive. Barely."
Blood stained his shirt. His right shoulder was dislocated.
"You idiot," she said, tears springing to her eyes. "You didn't have to save me like that."
He grinned weakly. "I didn't have to. I wanted to."
She knelt beside him. "Hold still."
"Wait, what are you—?"
CRACK.
She shoved his shoulder back into place.
Lucien gasped. "Damn it—! That hurt!"
"You're welcome," Evelyn said.
He looked at her through the pain. "You're getting more dangerous by the day."
She looked down at him, expression softening. "I'm just trying to keep up with you."
Their eyes met.
And then—he reached up, brushing dirt from her cheek. "You're doing more than that."
For a moment, the horror of the forest faded. Just him and her. Breathing. Close.
But something in Evelyn stirred again—a flicker of that power.
She pulled back. "We should go."
Lucien nodded, but his eyes lingered on her a moment longer.
They camped that night beneath a hollowed tree that pulsed faintly with green light. Lucien slept lightly, recovering. Evelyn kept watch, staring into the strange glowing moss on the trunk.
But then—something shifted in the air.
A whisper.
"Evelyn..."
She stood up. "Lucien?"
He stirred. "What is it?"
"Someone's calling me."
Lucien rose quickly, alert. "Stay close."
The whisper returned, closer.
"Daughter of fire... blood of night..."
A figure emerged from the trees—tall, robed in feathers and smoke. Their face was hidden behind a bird-like mask made of silver bone.
Lucien stepped in front of Evelyn. "Who are you?"
The figure bowed. "I am the Seer of Ash. I have waited for her... the Moonborn."
Evelyn narrowed her eyes. "Me?"
The Seer nodded. "You carry a shard of the Skyfire within. Seraphine knows. That's why she wants your blood. To unseal the god below."
Lucien tensed. "What god?"
The Seer turned to him. "A being of ancient hunger. One that even vampires fear. The Pale King. Banished centuries ago by the Moonborn's ancestor."
Evelyn stepped forward. "And Seraphine wants to bring him back."
"Yes," the Seer said. "And she will succeed—unless you awaken all of yourself."
Evelyn frowned. "How?"
The Seer raised a hand. A flame appeared—silver, gentle. It floated toward her.
"You must remember."
The flame touched her forehead.
And suddenly—
memories burst inside her mind.
A man—tall, pale, with glowing eyes. Her father?
Her mother—young, fierce, holding a silver blade. Fighting alongside vampires in a war.
The night her house burned—it wasn't an accident. Her mother had hidden Evelyn after Seraphine's minions came for them. She remembered seeing her mother scream—
—then everything went black.
Evelyn gasped, stumbling back. "My father... he wasn't human."
The Seer nodded. "He was one of the Celestials. A guardian of the realms. That is your gift. And your curse."
Lucien looked stunned. "No wonder Seraphine wants you."
Evelyn turned to him, her voice trembling. "She killed my mother... because of me."
Lucien stepped forward. "No. She killed your mother because she feared what you could become."
Evelyn looked at her hands. Light flickered beneath the skin.
"I don't want this power," she whispered.
Lucien gently took her hands. "But you have it. And now you know who you are. That's the first step."
The Seer stepped back into the mist. "The Hollow Vale awaits. Go now. Time is bleeding."
And then—he vanished.
That night, Evelyn didn't sleep.
She sat beside Lucien, watching him. The way his chest rose and fell, the faint scar across his ribs. He'd almost died for her.
She leaned close, just enough to feel his warmth.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He stirred, half-awake. "For what?"
"For staying."
He smiled, eyes still closed. "I'll always stay."
And for once, she believed it.
But deep inside her, a voice whispered again:
"Soon, you will have to choose: him... or the world."