The ground trembled long before Victoria saw them.
She crouched in the shadows of the trees, every nerve screaming as the rhythmic thud of boots rolled through the forest like distant thunder. She pressed her palm against the earth. It was steady, purposeful. This was no bandit raid. This was an army.
He's here.
Her breath caught, shallow and quick. For days she had felt the storm pressing closer, but now it was real—an iron tide crashing into her sanctuary.
The first soldiers broke through the treeline—armored men with polished breastplates, crimson banners snapping in the wind. Their torches painted the forest gold and orange, their shouts echoing between the trees.
And at their head, astride a black warhorse, was Damien.
Eight years had changed him more than Victoria had dared imagine.
His hair was longer now, dark and untamed, his jaw sharper, his shoulders broader. Black and scarlet armor wrapped his body, trimmed with gold. But it was his eyes that stole her breath—once warm and full of boyish defiance, now cold and unyielding, like steel forged in blood.
The boy she had loved like a brother was gone.
In his place stood a tyrant.
"Spread out," Damien commanded, his voice carrying like a blade through the woods. "She is here. Find her."
His soldiers obeyed instantly, fanning into the trees.
Victoria's heart raced. Her power stirred against her will, shimmering faintly along her arms. She pressed herself against the trunk of an oak, biting her lip until it bled. She didn't want this. She didn't want him.
But the earth betrayed her. The faint shimmer of light in her skin reflected off the bark.
"Wait," a soldier barked, pointing. "There!"
Torches swung toward her. Swords were drawn.
And Damien's head turned.
For a heartbeat, the world stilled. His eyes locked onto hers through the shadows.
Recognition flared. Sharp, burning, undeniable.
"Victoria."
Her knees almost buckled at the sound of her name on his lips after so long. But before she could speak, before she could hope—his expression hardened.
"Seize her."
The soldiers surged forward.
Victoria spun and bolted into the trees, branches whipping her face. Her breath tore ragged in her throat, her bare feet pounding the earth. Behind her, armored men crashed through the undergrowth, their shouts growing closer.
"Don't let her escape!"
Her power surged in panic. Light flared in her wake, vines erupting from the soil to snare her pursuers. Two men were dragged down, shouting in terror, but still they came.
Still he came.
The thunder of hooves cut through the chaos. Damien rode after her, relentless, his black steed crashing through branches as if the forest itself bent to his will.
"Victoria!" His voice split the night, low and furious. "You cannot run from me again!"
She stumbled into a clearing, chest heaving, heart breaking. The light spilled uncontrolled from her skin, illuminating the trees in a halo of gold.
Damien reined his horse to a halt before her, soldiers forming a half-circle around the clearing.
She was trapped.
The boy she once clung to was gone. The man who stared down at her now was not her friend, not her savior. He was the Tyrant Prince—and he looked at her not with tenderness, but with hunger.
Victoria raised her shaking hands. "Stay back, Damien."
His jaw clenched. "Eight years. Eight years, and this is how you greet me?"
Her voice cracked. "You've changed."
His eyes darkened. "So have you."
He swung down from his horse, his armor glinting in the torchlight. The soldiers held back, watching as their prince strode toward her.
"You think you can hide from me? You think you can burn down your little farm and vanish again?" His voice grew colder with each step. "No, Victoria. Not this time. You're mine."
Something inside her snapped.
"I was never yours!"
Her power flared violently, light bursting from her body in a wave. The soldiers staggered back, shielding their eyes. The earth trembled, vines surging upward to lash at them.
Damien didn't flinch.
He walked through the golden blaze, his gaze locked on her, his expression unreadable.
Victoria's breath hitched. Her power was wild, uncontrollable, but still—he came.
"Stop!" she cried, throwing her hands forward. The light condensed into a blinding sphere, blasting toward him.
The ground split. Trees cracked. Soldiers shouted in fear.
When the dust cleared, Damien stood in the center, his cloak torn, his cheek streaked with blood. His sword was drawn now, black steel glinting.
But his eyes—his eyes burned with something more dangerous than fury.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
Her stomach twisted.
"Victoria," he said, louder now, his voice a vow and a curse, "if I have to break you to keep you, then so be it."
She staggered back, her tears mixing with the light spilling uncontrollably from her body.
The Tyrant Prince advanced.
The woman of light stood her ground.
And the forest braced itself for war.