Liora woke to the faint ache of dawn creeping through her bedroom window. The village of Eldenbrook was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt alive, as if the world were holding its breath. But she couldn't shake the memory of last night. The Blood Moon, the forest, the glowing chains, the prince—Kael.
Her wrist throbbed. She flexed her fingers, and the mark flared faintly beneath her skin, invisible to anyone else but a brand of fire to her. She didn't understand what it was, but the memory of the chains, of the spell, and the warning in Kael's eyes made her pulse hammer. She had seen something she shouldn't have. And she had felt something awaken in her—a power that was hers, and yet not.
Liora tried to ignore it. She went through the motions of breakfast, the chatter of her mother about chores and the market a dull hum behind the pounding in her head. She couldn't tell anyone. No one would understand. Not the villagers. Not her best friend, Mara, who was already gossiping about the new harvest festival. Magic like hers didn't exist in their world—or at least, it wasn't supposed to.
By mid-morning, her curiosity won. She slipped from the village under the pretense of fetching herbs near the forest edge. Shadowpine's dark outline rose on the horizon, trees clawing at the sky like skeletal hands. The memory of Kael, of the chains, made her stomach twist with fear and fascination. She shouldn't go back. She knew that. And yet… something pulled her forward.
The forest welcomed her like a predator welcoming prey. The air smelled of damp moss and earth, rich and wild. Light filtered through the canopy in shafts, highlighting motes of dust that danced like tiny spirits. Liora's wrist burned faintly. She flexed her hand, and the symbol pulsed, almost impatiently, as though urging her deeper.
And then she heard it: a low, guttural growl, unlike any wolf she had ever known. Her breath caught. Shadows shifted between the trees. Then he appeared.
Kael stepped from the undergrowth as if the forest itself had pushed him forward. He was taller than she remembered, broader, and there was a predatory grace to the way he moved. His black hair fell over his eyes, partially obscuring the faint red glow still lingering in them. The chains were gone, but the aura of danger around him had not diminished. If anything, it had grown.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice low and rough, like gravel scraped across metal. His eyes locked on her wrist. "Do you know what you've done?"
Liora swallowed, her throat dry. "I… I don't—"
"You awakened it," he interrupted, stepping closer. Every movement was deliberate, measured, like a hunter circling prey, yet his eyes… there was something else. Pain. Anguish. And, impossibly, a trace of curiosity that made her skin tingle.
The forest seemed to lean in around them, holding its breath. Birds and small creatures had vanished, leaving only the low hum of magic threading through the trees. Liora felt the mark flare again, a warning or a signal—she couldn't tell which.
"Why me?" she whispered. "Why would it choose me?"
Kael's gaze softened slightly, almost imperceptibly. "It doesn't choose lightly," he said. "And it doesn't forgive mistakes." He took a step back, creating a fragile space between them, but his eyes never left hers. "You've put yourself in danger. The cult… they'll come for you."
"The… cult?" Her stomach knotted. The shadows from the ritual, the faceless figures—were they coming? Already?
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he studied her, as if measuring how much of a threat—or a tool—she was. Finally, he spoke, "You're marked now. Whether you want it or not, you're part of this. Part of Eldoria, part of the prophecy. And part of it… is dangerous."
Liora's heart hammered. Prophecy. Eldoria. Danger. Words she didn't understand but somehow felt in her bones. She wanted to turn and run, to escape this forest, this unknown, this terrifying man who had the power to destroy her. And yet, something made her stay. A pull she couldn't name, a thread connecting her to him, to the chains, to the awakening.
Kael sighed, a sound that seemed to carry centuries of weariness. "I should take you back to the village," he said, though his eyes lingered on her. "But the longer you stay, the stronger the connection grows. I can't… I shouldn't… get involved." His voice faltered, a hint of something raw beneath the controlled edge.
"Then… what do I do?" she asked, voice trembling. "I don't even know what I am."
"You learn," he said simply. "You survive. And you trust no one—least of all yourself."
A rustle in the undergrowth made both of them tense. Shadows stretched unnaturally, and Liora's mark flared, sending a jolt of pain through her arm. Kael's eyes sharpened.
"They're coming," he said. "Move!"
Without another word, he grabbed her hand, strong and unyielding. His grip was not gentle, but it was protective, and something deep inside Liora stirred at the contact. They ran through the forest, shadows snapping at their heels, the air alive with the pulse of magic. She stumbled more than once, but Kael's hand never wavered.
When they reached the edge of the forest, panting and bruised, he finally let go. "You can't go back," he said. "Not tonight. Not ever again. You're mine to protect… whether you like it or not."
Her chest rose and fell, fear and adrenaline mixing in a dizzying swirl. And yet, despite everything—the chains, the cult, the prophecy—one thought refused to leave her mind: she couldn't look away from him. From Kael. From the dangerous, impossible man who shouldn't care for her but clearly did.
The forest behind them was silent once more, but Liora knew that silence was temporary. The real danger had only just begun.