CHAPTER 3 – The Clearing of Secrets
They didn't stop running until their lungs burned and the trees thinned. Branches whipped Aria's face, but she held on to his hand like it was the last real thing in a world that had stopped making sense.
And then — suddenly — they broke through the wall of trees and into a clearing.
Still. Silent. Almost too perfect.
Moonlight dripped down like melted silver, casting ghost-pale reflections over the grass. The air didn't move. No birds. No bugs. Nothing.
Just… silence.
Caius finally let go of her hand.
Aria staggered, gasping. "Where… are we?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he walked to the center of the clearing and knelt. With his finger, he traced something into the dirt — strange, glowing runes that pulsed faintly under the moonlight. Her skin prickled like the air had turned electric.
She took a step forward, her voice cracking.
"You dragged me away from those things… and now you're drawing in the dirt like it's art class?"
He looked up — and for the first time, his face was softer. Sad, almost.
"No one's followed us here," he said. "They can't."
"Why?" Aria whispered.
He stood, brushing his hands on his coat. "Because this is my grave."
The silence cracked.
"…what?"
Caius didn't blink. "This is where I died."
Aria's mouth dried. "You're kidding."
"I don't do jokes."
"I know," she snapped. "You're allergic to personality."
Caius smirked — the tiniest curve of his lips — and then it was gone.
He walked toward her, slowly. "Two centuries ago, a boy was buried here. His village cursed him. Called him demonspawn. Said he'd brought the forest to life, cursed the crops, stolen time itself."
Aria stared. "You're talking about yourself in third person."
"Because I'm not that boy anymore."
A chill crawled down her spine. "Then what are you?"
Caius stopped in front of her. "A mistake. A warning. A prophecy that lived too long."
She opened her mouth, but the ground rumbled — gently, like a warning cough from the Earth itself.
He turned sharply. "They're circling. We don't have long."
"Who?!" she snapped. "The things from the forest?"
"No." His jaw clenched. "Worse. The ones who sent them."
Suddenly, the moonlight dimmed. The air shifted.
And then — as if pulled by an invisible string — Aria's necklace, the one her mother gave her as a child, lifted off her chest and glowed.
Caius stepped back. "What is that?"
"I—I don't know, I've had it since I was—"
"Take it off."
She grabbed it. "Why?"
"Because that's not a necklace. That's a seal."
Aria's heart dropped into her stomach.
The necklace began to burn against her skin — not fire-hot, but memory-hot. Her mother's voice whispered through the trees, clear as day:
> "If it ever starts to glow, run. And don't stop."
She stepped back. "You said this was a safe place."
"I lied," Caius said. "This is the most dangerous place. And it's exactly where they want you."
Aria's hand trembled on the chain. "Who are 'they'?"
Caius's voice dropped.
> "The same ones who wrote your name in the prophecy…
before you were even born."