POV: Ella
I couldn't remember what it felt like not to hurt.
My foot caught on another root, and I crashed to the ground for what felt like the hundredth time. Pain exploded through my knees, but I barely felt it anymore. Everything hurt now. Everything.
Three days. I'd been walking through this nightmare forest for three days, and I still had no idea where I was going.
Not that it mattered. I was dying anyway.
I pressed my hand against a tree trunk, trying to pull myself up. The bark turned black under my palm, spreading like rot. Within seconds, the whole tree was dead, its leaves crumbling to ash.
"No," I whispered, jerking my hand away. But the damage was done. Another piece of life destroyed by my touch.
The black veins had spread across my entire body now. They covered my arms, my legs, crawled up my neck to my face. When I'd checked my reflection in a puddle yesterday, I'd barely recognized myself. My silver hair was completely black. My skin was pale as moonlight. The curse marks pulsed with every heartbeat, dark and alive.
I was turning into the monster everyone said I was.
My stomach cramped with hunger so fierce it doubled me over. I hadn't eaten since the morning of the festival. Hadn't drunk anything except a few drops of morning dew I'd licked off leaves. My throat felt like sandpaper, and my head spun with dizziness.
Through the trees ahead, I heard it—the sound of running water.
A stream. Thank the gods, a stream.
I stumbled forward, tripping over rocks and branches. My vision blurred, and I couldn't tell if I was walking straight or in circles. But the sound of water grew louder, calling to me like a song.
Finally, I broke through the undergrowth and saw it. A clear stream, babbling over smooth stones, catching the late afternoon sunlight in sparkles.
I'd never seen anything so beautiful in my life.
I fell to my knees at the water's edge, my whole body shaking with relief. "Please," I begged nobody in particular. "Please let this work."
I cupped my hands and plunged them into the stream.
The water turned black instantly.
I watched in horror as the corruption spread from my hands, racing upstream and downstream like spilled ink. Fish floated to the surface, dead. Plants along the bank withered and died. Within seconds, the entire stream had turned into a river of poison.
"No!" I yanked my hands out, but it was too late. The damage was done. Again.
I stared at my dripping, black-stained hands. Hands that killed everything they touched. Hands that had once made flowers bloom.
"I really am a monster," I whispered.
The tears came then, hot and burning. I collapsed on the bank, sobbing into the dead grass. This was it. This was how I'd die—alone, cursed, having destroyed everything good I'd ever touched.
Maybe Theron was right. Maybe I deserved this.
The sun sank lower, painting the sky orange and red. Pretty colors for an ugly day. I should keep moving, find shelter before dark. But what was the point? I couldn't eat. Couldn't drink. Couldn't touch anything without killing it.
I was already dead. I just hadn't stopped moving yet.
That's when I heard the howl.
My blood turned to ice. I knew that sound. Every elf child knew that sound from bedtime stories meant to scare us into behaving.
Thornwood Wolves.
Another howl answered the first, closer this time. Then another. And another.
I forced myself to stand, my legs shaking so hard I could barely balance. Where could I run? I could barely walk, let alone outrun wolves. But I had to try.
Red eyes appeared in the darkening forest. One pair. Two. Five. Ten.
They emerged from the shadows like nightmares made flesh—massive wolves, each one as big as a horse, with fur the color of dried blood and teeth like daggers. Their eyes glowed in the dimness, fixed on me with hungry intelligence.
The largest wolf stepped forward, lips pulling back in a snarl. Its breath misted in the cooling air, and I could see strings of saliva dripping from its fangs.
"Nice wolves," I whispered stupidly. "Good wolves. I'm not food. I'm cursed and probably poisonous and—"
The alpha wolf lunged.
I threw up my hands instinctively, reaching for my magic. Not to attack—I didn't know how to fight—but to create vines to shield myself like I'd done a thousand times before.
Power exploded from my palms.
But instead of green vines, black thorny tendrils burst from the ground like living whips. They shot toward the wolves, sharp as spears, moving with minds of their own.
"Stop!" I screamed at my own magic. "I didn't mean—"
The tendrils didn't stop. They slashed wildly, cutting through the air. One caught a wolf across the face, and it yelped and retreated. Another tendril wrapped around a second wolf's leg, the thorns digging deep.
But I couldn't control them. The black tendrils whipped everywhere, and some of them turned back toward me. Pain seared across my arm as thorns cut deep into my skin. Blood—my cursed, black-veined blood—dripped onto the ground.
"STOP!" I pulled desperately at my magic, trying to make it obey. The tendrils finally sank back into the earth, leaving me gasping and bleeding.
The wolves had backed off, wary now. But they weren't leaving. More red eyes appeared in the darkness. More wolves, drawn by the smell of blood.
My blood.
I pressed my hand against my bleeding arm, trying to stop the flow. My head spun. I'd lost too much blood over the past three days—from cuts, from the curse eating me from inside. I didn't have much left to lose.
The wolves began to circle, moving in coordinated patterns. Pack hunters. They'd done this before. They knew exactly how to bring down prey.
"I don't want to die," I whispered, but even I didn't believe it anymore. What was the point of surviving? To walk until I collapsed somewhere else? To watch everything I touched turn to poison and rot?
Maybe dying would be a mercy.
The alpha wolf crouched, muscles bunching for the killing strike.
I closed my eyes and waited for the end.
But instead of fangs tearing into my throat, I heard something else—a sound like thunder cracking, followed by a yelp of pain.
My eyes snapped open.
Dark lightning—actual black lightning—arced through the clearing. It struck the alpha wolf and sent it flying backward into the trees. The other wolves scattered, snarling in confusion and fear.
Another bolt of dark lightning blazed through the night, and two more wolves went down.
"What—" I spun around, searching for the source.
A figure emerged from the shadows between the trees. Tall. Human, not elf. Wearing a long black cloak that seemed to drink in the darkness. I couldn't see his face, but I saw his hands—crackling with that same dark lightning, power rolling off him in waves.
The remaining wolves took one look at him and ran, their howls fading into the distance.
The stranger walked toward me with measured steps. Not hurried. Not cautious. Like he had all the time in the world and nothing to fear.
My survival instincts finally kicked in. "Stay back," I warned, raising my bleeding hands. "I'm cursed. I'll hurt you."
He didn't stop. Didn't even slow down.
"I mean it!" My voice cracked. "I'm a Shadow Elf. I'm dangerous. I'm—"
"Dying," the stranger said, and his voice was deep and rough, like he didn't use it much. "You're dying."
He was right in front of me now, close enough that I could finally see his face in the moonlight. Sharp features. Dark hair that fell across his forehead. Eyes the color of silver, cold and calculating, studying me like I was an interesting puzzle.
"You're a Shadow Elf," he said, and there was something in his voice. Not fear. Not disgust. Something else. "I didn't think they still existed."
"Please," I whispered as my legs finally gave out. "Help me."
I collapsed forward, and he caught me before I hit the ground. His hands were surprisingly gentle, lowering me carefully to the forest floor.
"Interesting," he murmured, and I felt him examining my curse marks. His fingers traced the black veins on my arm, and I expected to feel the usual pain. But instead, something strange happened—his touch was cool, soothing, like water on a burn.
"Your curse is consuming you," he said, more to himself than to me. "Hours left. Maybe less."
"Then let me die," I whispered. I was so tired. So, so tired. "There's nothing left anyway."
"Perhaps." He was quiet for a moment, still studying me. "Or perhaps we can help each other."
I tried to ask what he meant, but darkness was closing in around the edges of my vision. The world was fading, sounds growing distant.
The last thing I saw was the stranger pulling something from his cloak—a vial of glowing liquid that pulsed with dark magic. He uncorked it, and the smell was strange, like thunderstorms and midnight.
"This will either save you or kill you," he said. "But honestly? You're dying anyway. Might as well try."
He pressed the vial to my lips, and I tasted darkness itself—cold and electric and alive. It burned down my throat like fire and ice mixed together.
Then everything went black.
But before the darkness took me completely, I heard the stranger's voice one more time, soft and almost... curious?
"Let's see if you're strong enough to survive, little Shadow Elf. I have a feeling you might surprise me."
And then—nothing.