Chapter One
The First Night of Running.
The world had shifted beneath Elara's feet, like the ground itself had turned to ice, and she was slipping. She didn't know how long she'd been running , minutes, hours, or maybe it was days. Time lost meaning when every shadow seemed to breathe, every whisper carried his name.
Her chest burned with exhaustion, but stopping wasn't an option. Not yet. Not ever.
Somewhere deep inside, a part of her still wanted to believe he could be the man she fell for , someone who could held her close and made the dark seem less terrifying. But that part was shrinking, squeezed tight by terror and the knowledge that love had poisoned her.
She paused at the edge of an alley, hands trembling as she pressed her back against the cold brick. Her heart pounded like a wild drumbeat, a rhythm she couldn't quiet. The night around her was thick with unseen eyes, and for a moment, the silence was so complete it pressed into her skin.
Then, the whisper came.
Not the soft, seductive murmur of before, but a cruel rasp that slid beneath her skin like ice. "Elara…" It was his voice, low and relentless, curling around her name like smoke. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing it to vanish.
She was no longer a girl who could trust a demon's word.
Slowly, she pushed herself off the wall and moved forward, steps light but urgent. The city blurred cold street lamps, broken signs, the distant hum of traffic all fading into a nightmare painted in crimson. Every flicker of movement set her nerves on edge.
And then she saw it: a scar on the ground, a mark she hadn't noticed before. It was shaped like a twisted tree, roots spread wide and sharp as claws. Her fingers traced the symbol instinctively, a chill rippling through her veins.
The mark wasn't just a scar — it was a warning. A promise.
He was closer than ever.
Elara swallowed the lump rising in her throat. She had nowhere left to run. The night was no longer her refuge — it was the demon's domain. And the whispers, once sweet and alluring, had become a death sentence she could no longer escape.
But she would try. Because even in the deepest fear, something stubborn flickered inside her a fragile flame she refused to let herself die.
(The River of Shadows )
The forest swallowed her whole.
Elara's breath hitched in ragged gasps as she stumbled beneath the twisted canopy, branches clawing at her crimson dress like grasping fingers. The night air was thick with the scent of damp earth and rotting leaves, a suffocating silence broken only by the crunch of her footsteps and the distant howl of something unknown.
Every shadow around her seemed alive watching, waiting. The trees loomed like ancient sentinels, their gnarled limbs casting monstrous shapes in the flickering light of the moon. She knew this forest well enough to fear it, yet desperation gave her courage she never thought she'd possess.
Behind her, the demon king's wrath burned hotter than any flame. His fury was a storm she could not outrun, only hope to outwit. She could almost hear his voice trailing in the wind, a cruel whisper calling her back, reminding her of the chains she had broken.
Her heart pounded like a war drum, a rhythm of terror and defiance. Fear curled in her stomach, sharp and relentless, but beneath it all, a fierce determination blazed brighter than the darkest night. She would escape. She had to.
The forest floor was uneven, roots twisting like serpents ready to trip her. She fell once, scraping her palms against the rough bark of a tree, but the pain grounded her , a reminder she was alive and still fighting.
Hours blurred. The cold seeped into her bones as the trees thinned, and ahead, she glimpsed a silver gleam , the river.
The Dark River.
Legends whispered through the kingdom about the river's cursed depths: waters that swallowed souls whole, currents that carried cruel secrets and ancient evils. No one crossed it willingly. None returned unchanged.
But for Elara, the river was salvation.
Her fingers trembled as she stepped onto the slick, moss-covered rocks at the riverbank. The water churned beneath her, black and unforgiving, reflecting the shattered shards of moonlight. Each step into the icy current was a jolt of agony and hope.
Cold bit through her dress, numbing her legs, but she pressed forward. The river seemed to resist her passage , tugging, pulling, as if warning her away. The stories felt alive in every rushing wave.
Memories flashed unbidden , the demon king's cruel glare, the heavy chains of her cage, the whispered promises that had turned to threats. She shivered not from cold alone.
Her breath came in shaky clouds as the current grew stronger, swirling around her knees, then her waist. Panic clawed at her chest, but she clenched her jaw and pushed on, every muscle screaming.
Behind her, the forest's edge disappeared. She was alone exposed to the merciless power of the river and the night.
But she was free.
Halfway across, a sudden coldness deeper than the river's chill wrapped around her ankles. A voice echoed beneath the water, ancient and cruel, luring her to falter. Her heart threatened to stop, but she forced herself to keep moving , one step, then another.
When she finally stumbled onto the opposite bank, shivering and soaked to the bone, the forest behind her was silent. No whispers chased her. No shadow followed.
For the first time in a long time, Elara let herself breathe.
But the river had marked her. The darkness had reached into her soul, twisting and binding her in ways she couldn't yet understand. Her flight was not over.
It had only just begun!
(Freedom's Shadow)...
Elara sank to her knees on the cold, uneven earth of the far riverbank, trembling as the icy water dripped from her hair and soaked dress. The dense forest behind her now felt like a world away, a nightmare she had escaped, or so she hoped.
For a moment, the silence wrapped around her like a fragile shield. She was alive. She was free.
But was she?
The question gnawed at her, relentless as the river's current.
She had fled across the dark river the one whispered about in fearful legends, the barrier no one dared cross. The stories said it held cruel mysteries, curses, and things far worse than any demon king's wrath.
Yet, as she gazed out into the shadowed land beyond, Elara couldn't shake the cold truth that nestled deep inside her chest: the demon king would never let her go so easily.
He was a man shaped by fire and darkness cold, ruthless, and deadly. A king who would cross oceans of shadow and oceans of blood to reclaim what was his.
Her heart ached with the memory of his gaze sharp and unforgiving, punishing her mistakes publicly, crushing her hope beneath the weight of his power.
No matter how far she ran, no matter the obstacles, the thought clawed at her: He would find me. He would come.
A shiver passed through her, not from the cold, but from a fear deeper than the river's depths. Was she truly free, or just running toward another cage one built from shadows and secrets she couldn't yet see?
Elara pressed her palms into the earth, grounding herself. She refused to give in to despair. Not now. Not ever.
If the demon king wanted a battle, she would be ready.
The river had been a barrier but it had not broken the chains in her soul.
Freedom, she realized, was not just crossing a river or leaving a kingdom. It was the fight she carried inside, the will to survive, to defy, and perhaps, one day, to reclaim her own story.
By Elara Ravenwood vex.