The next day, storm clouds gathered over the village. The air was heavy, the kind that pressed against the skin and filled the lungs with unease. Elena stood by the window, watching rain fall in thin, silvery lines. Each drop echoed her own restless thoughts.
Lucian entered the room, his cloak damp, his boots muddy from the road. His face was serious. "Elena," he said, brushing water from his brow. "There's someone you need to meet."
Before she could ask, a tall figure stepped into the room behind him. The man wore a long coat of dark leather, and a scar crossed from his brow to his cheek. His eyes were sharp, scanning everything with the cold precision of someone who had lived too long in danger. A crossbow rested across his back.
"This is Marcus," Lucian explained. "A hunter. He's fought creatures like Darius before."
Elena's heart quickened at the name. She lowered her gaze, hoping Lucian hadn't noticed.
Marcus bowed slightly, though his eyes never softened. "So this is the girl with the blood of the Ancestor." His voice was deep, gravelly, the kind that carried both authority and suspicion.
Elena felt her hands tremble. "I… I'm not like him."
Marcus's mouth curved into a grim smile. "That remains to be seen."
Lucian frowned. "Marcus came to help us, not to judge."
But Elena could feel the weight of the hunter's stare, as if he already suspected what she had done. As if he knew Darius's lips had touched hers.
Later, as rain battered the windows, Marcus sat by the fire, sharpening silver-tipped arrows. "I've hunted his kind for years," he said, his voice steady. "They seduce. They whisper. They plant seeds of desire and fear. Once they have their hold, it's nearly impossible to break."
Elena sat across from him, her throat dry. "And if someone is already under his influence?" she asked quietly.
Marcus's eyes flicked to her, sharp and unyielding. "Then that person is already lost."
The words struck like a blade. She lowered her gaze, fighting the tears that threatened to rise.
Lucian's hand found hers, squeezing gently. "Elena is not lost," he said firmly. "She is stronger than his lies."
Marcus said nothing, but his silence was heavier than words.
That night, Elena retreated to her room, her thoughts a storm more violent than the one outside. She paced the floor, her fingers tracing the bite-sized scar on her palm from the oath.
Lost. Marcus's voice echoed in her mind. Already lost.
She sat on the bed, pressing her face into her hands. Why did Darius's presence pull at her so fiercely? Why did part of her long for his shadow, even as she feared it?
The answer came in the silence. The shadows in her room deepened, and the air grew colder.
"Elena."
Her heart leapt. She lifted her head, and there he was—Darius, leaning casually against the wall as if he belonged there. His dark hair framed his pale face, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.
"You shouldn't be here," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"And yet," he said with a sly smile, "you are glad I am."
She shook her head. "No. I'm not."
But her voice betrayed her, too soft, too unsteady.
Darius stepped closer, his presence wrapping around her like a cloak. "The hunter speaks of you as if you are prey. To him, you are something to be destroyed. To Lucian, you are something to be protected. But with me… you are something to be loved."
Her breath caught. "Loved?"
"Yes." He knelt before her, his cold hand brushing against her cheek. "Not as a fragile human, not as a cursed heir. But as the queen you were meant to be. Beside me, you are not a weakness. You are power itself."
Tears welled in her eyes. "Why do you torment me like this?"
"Because you already know the truth," he whispered. "You feel it every time I touch you. Every time you close your eyes. You don't belong to their world, Elena. You belong to mine."
She closed her eyes, fighting the ache in her chest. Lucian's warmth and loyalty pulled one way, Darius's dark passion the other. She was being torn apart, and she feared one day she would break.
When she opened her eyes, Darius was gone, like mist fading into air. But his words remained, burning into her heart.
You belong to mine.
And for the first time, Elena wasn't sure if she wanted to resist.