Elara's POV
The shadows spit us out like we're poison.
I hit the ground hard, rolling across dirt and dead leaves. My shoulder screams in pain. My stomach lurches like I've been turned inside out. I barely manage to lift my head before I'm throwing up everything in my stomach.
"Breathing helps," the Shadow Lord says from somewhere above me. He sounds calm. Unbothered. Like he didn't just drag us through a nightmare made of darkness.
"I hate you," I gasp between heaves.
"You'll get used to shadow travel. Eventually."
"I'm never doing that again." I wipe my mouth with a shaking hand and finally look around.
We're in a forest. Trees so thick I can barely see the sky. The air smells like rain and rotting wood. Behind us, in the distance, I can see smoke rising—black columns against the gray sky.
The fortress. His home. Gone.
"They destroyed everything," I whisper.
"They were going to anyway." The Shadow Lord—Cassian, I remember him saying his name was—stands with his back to me, watching the smoke. "The Sanctum doesn't leave loose ends."
"How can you be so calm? You just lost your home!"
"I've lost five homes in 237 years." He turns to face me, and I see something dark in his silver eyes. "You learn not to get attached to places. Or people."
The last part feels like a warning.
I push myself to my feet, ignoring how my legs shake. "Where are we?"
"About twenty miles from where we started. Deep in the Shadowlands—my territory. The Sanctum won't follow us here. Not immediately." He tilts his head. "You're hurt."
"I'm fine."
"You're bleeding."
I look down and see red soaking through the nightgown at my shoulder. I must have cut it when we landed. The pain hits me all at once, sharp and hot.
"Sit," Cassian orders.
"Don't tell me what to—"
"Sit. Down." His voice goes hard. "If you bleed out, I die too. So unless you want both our deaths on your conscience, sit."
I sit. Mostly because my legs give out.
He kneels beside me and reaches for my shoulder. I flinch away.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he says, frustrated. "I'm trying to help."
"You kidnapped me. Dragged me through shadow hell. And now you're ordering me around like I'm your servant." I glare at him. "Forgive me for not trusting you."
"I saved your life. Twice. In the last hour." He glares back. "A little gratitude wouldn't kill you."
"You saved yourself. You said it—if I die, you die."
"True." He sits back on his heels. "So let me help you, so we both survive. Deal?"
I hate that he's right. I nod stiffly.
He tears a strip of fabric from his own shirt and presses it against my shoulder. His hands are surprisingly gentle. "This might sting."
It does. I bite my lip to keep from crying out.
"You're tougher than you look," he observes.
"I was murdered at my wedding. Everything after that is easy by comparison."
A ghost of a smile crosses his face. "Fair point."
We sit in silence while he bandages my shoulder. I study him in the gray light. He doesn't look like a monster. Doesn't act like one either. But the stories say—
"Why do they call you the Shadow Lord?" I ask.
"Because I control shadows. And because 'Cassian the Cursed' doesn't sound as threatening." He ties off the bandage. "There. That should hold until we reach safety."
"Safety where?"
"I have safe houses scattered across the realm. We'll head to the nearest one." He stands and offers me his hand.
I don't take it. "Not until you explain. Everything. The curse. The mark. Why Theron's sacrifice brought me back tied to you instead of just letting me die."
Cassian's jaw tightens. "We don't have time for—"
"Make time." I cross my arms. "You want me to trust you? To follow you? Then tell me the truth."
He stares at me for a long moment. Then sighs and sits down across from me. "Fine. But the short version. We need to keep moving."
"Short version works."
He's quiet for a moment, like he's deciding where to start. "237 years ago, I was a king. A mortal king who ruled a small kingdom at the edge of the realm. The Sanctum came to me demanding tribute—money, soldiers, complete obedience. I refused."
"Why?"
"Because they were corrupt. Using their power to control people through fear and curses. I tried to expose them." His expression hardens. "They made an example of me. Cursed me with immortality and bound my life to innocent people through their blood rituals. Every fifty years, someone dies in a Sanctum sacrifice, and that death ties their soul to mine."
My stomach drops. "Theron's sacrifice."
"Exactly. He killed you as an offering to the Sanctum. But something went wrong. Instead of your death giving him power, it triggered the curse and brought you back. Bound to me."
I look at the mark on my wrist. The black symbols pulse like a heartbeat. "So we're connected."
"More than connected. Our lives are one life now. If I get hurt, you feel it. If you die, I die with you." He meets my eyes. "We're stuck together until one of us dies or the curse breaks."
"Can it break?"
"I've been searching for 237 years. Haven't found an answer yet."
The weight of it crashes down on me. I'm tied to this stranger. Forever. Or until we both die.
"You said I'm the fifth person bound to you," I say quietly. "What happened to the others?"
Cassian's face goes cold. Empty. "The first was a young woman named Sarah. She lasted three months before the Sanctum tracked her down and killed her. The second was an old man. Six weeks. The third was a teenage boy. Two months. The fourth was a middle-aged woman. She took her own life after one month rather than keep running."
Four people. All dead because they were tied to him.
"And now I'm going to die too," I whisper.
"No." The word comes out sharp. Fierce. "You're not."
"How can you promise that? You couldn't save any of them—"
"Because you're different." He leans forward. "The others were terrified from day one. They couldn't fight. Couldn't adapt. They saw themselves as victims and gave up." His silver eyes lock on mine. "But you? You're angry. You're asking questions. You punched me when I tried to help you. That fire? That's what keeps people alive."
"I didn't punch you."
"You tried to. I dodged." A hint of amusement crosses his face. "My point is, you're a survivor, Elara. I saw it the moment you woke up. The others broke. You won't."
I want to believe him. But I remember the smoke rising from his destroyed fortress. Remember Theron's voice calling my name. Remember the High Priestess saying they'd make his death quick if he gave me up.
"They want me dead," I say. "Why? I'm nobody. Just a minor noble's daughter with no magic, no power—"
"That's what you think you are." Cassian stands and pulls me up with him. "But Theron and the High Priestess both came personally to hunt you. The High Priestess never leaves the Sanctum temple. Never. So ask yourself—why would she break that pattern for one 'nobody'?"
I don't have an answer.
"There's something about you they fear," he continues. "Something worth destroying a fortress to eliminate. And until we figure out what that is, they won't stop coming."
A chill runs down my spine. "What if I don't want to know? What if I just want to hide and survive?"
"Hiding only works if they don't know what they're looking for." He starts walking deeper into the forest. "Right now, you're a mystery to them. That makes you dangerous. And the Sanctum eliminates dangerous things."
I hurry to follow him, my bare feet stumbling over roots. "So what do we do?"
"We find answers. Starting with why the curse brought you back different from the others."
"Different how?"
He stops walking and turns to face me. In the dim forest light, his silver eyes seem to glow.
"Hold out your hand," he says.
"Why?"
"Just do it."
I extend my hand, palm up. Cassian holds his hand above mine without touching. The mark on my wrist starts to burn. Not painfully, but with heat that spreads up my arm.
Then shadows pool in my palm. Living darkness. Responding to me.
I gasp and jerk my hand back. The shadows disappear.
"What was that?" I breathe.
"Shadow magic." Cassian's expression is unreadable. "Something only I should be able to do. But you're doing it too."
"How?"
"The bond. It's not just connecting our lives—it's sharing my power with you." He steps closer. "Elara, in 237 years, this has never happened before. The curse has never given anyone my abilities."
My heart pounds. "What does that mean?"
"It means the Sanctum has every reason to fear you." His voice drops. "Because you're becoming something that shouldn't exist. Something they can't control."
Before I can respond, a howl echoes through the forest. Long. Haunting. Filled with hunger.
Cassian's whole body goes tense. "Run."
"What was that?"
"Shadow beasts. The Sanctum must have released them to track us." He grabs my hand. "They hunt by scent and won't stop until they find us or die trying."
Another howl answers the first. Closer this time.
"How many?" I ask.
"Too many." He pulls me forward. "Run. Now."
We run.
Behind us, the howling grows louder. Multiple voices joining in a chorus that makes my blood freeze.
"Can you fight them?" I gasp.
"Not a whole pack. Not while protecting you."
"Then what—"
He stops so suddenly I crash into him. We're at the edge of a cliff. Below us, a river rushes through a narrow gorge. The drop is at least fifty feet.
"Please tell me we're not—" I start.
"We're jumping."
"That's insane!"
"So is staying here to get torn apart." He looks at me. "Do you trust me?"
The howls are right behind us now. I can hear branches breaking. Claws scraping stone.
I look at Cassian's silver eyes. See determination there. And something else. Something that looks like he actually cares whether I live or die.
"I'm starting to regret this," I mutter.
"Good." He smiles—actually smiles. "Fear keeps you sharp."
He takes my hand. The shadow beasts burst from the trees—massive, wolf-like creatures made of darkness and teeth and glowing red eyes.
"Jump!" Cassian shouts.
We jump.
And as we fall toward the rushing water below, I realize something terrifying:
This is my life now. Running. Fighting. Falling off cliffs with a cursed immortal who might be the only person in the world who wants me alive.
The water rushes up to meet us.
I take a breath.
And we hit.