It was nearing dusk when Elira pressed herself against the cracked frame of the broken window, peering through the narrow gap. The village lay silent, but the silence was not comforting. Strange, unsettling sounds drifted through the ruins — the creak of wood that should not move, the whisper of wind that carried voices not her own, and the distant scrape of something dragging across stone.
An hour had passed since Lucan had left her. He had said nothing more than that they would spend the night here, and at dawn, they would leave. But he had not told her where he was going, nor why he had gone alone.
Her fingers tightened on the sill, her breath shallow. The shadows outside stretched longer, swallowing the remnants of the village in their reach.
"Has he abandoned me?" Elira whispered to herself, the words trembling in the air.
The thought gnawed at her. Lucan was cruel, unpredictable — a man who carried death in his wake. Yet he had also saved her, more than once. Would he truly leave her here, defenseless, in a place that reeked of ash and memory?
Her heart pounded as another sound echoed through the ruins — a low thud, followed by the faint scuttle of claws against stone. She drew back from the window, pressing her back to the wall, her pulse racing.
The village felt alive, but not with the warmth of the people who once lived here. It breathed with something darker, something that watched her from the corners of the broken homes and the hollow streets.
Elira wrapped her arms around herself, forcing her voice into a whisper, as though speaking louder might summon whatever lurked outside. "Where is he?"
Elira remained still for a long moment, her back pressed against the cold wall, listening to the hollow groans of the ruined village. Every instinct told her to stay hidden, to wait for Lucan's return. Yet the silence pressed harder with each passing breath, and the thought of being left alone gnawed at her more than the fear of what lurked outside.
She could not sit still.
Her hands trembled as she pushed herself away from the wall. If he has abandoned me… then what? The thought stung, but another voice inside her whispered the truth she could not deny: dangerous as he was, Lucan was the only one she could rely on. Without him, she was nothing but prey in this place.
"I have to find him," she murmured, as though speaking the words aloud might give her courage.
She stepped toward the door. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet, the sound unnaturally loud in the suffocating quiet. She hesitated, glancing once more at the broken window, half-expecting to see eyes staring back at her from the dark. Nothing. Only the shifting shadows.
Her breath caught, but she forced herself forward.
The night was coming fast, and with it, the things that prowled in the dark. If Lucan was out there, she would find him — or be swallowed by the same silence that haunted these ruins.
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Lucan sat alone inside the ruined chapel, the air heavy with dust and the faint scent of charred wood. The roof had long since collapsed, leaving only jagged beams that framed the rising moon above. He rested on a broken bench, his cloak pooling around him, his posture rigid as though the weight of the silence pressed against his chest.
His hand lay open on his knee, palm wide, fingers trembling. He stared at it as if it might hold an answer. Again and again, the same question circled in his mind, relentless as the toll of a bell: What is this thing inside me?
It had begun when he was twelve. That cursed year. The first time the moon rose high and silver, and something in his blood had awakened. Since then, it had never missed a night. Each time the moonlight touched him, the thing clawed its way out — a hunger, a madness that stripped him of reason. He remembered the screams, the tearing, the way his hands had become weapons. Animals. Children. Anyone who crossed his path. They had not simply died — they had been broken, tortured, as though the thing inside him delighted in their suffering.
He clenched his palm into a fist, his jaw tight.
And yet… with Elira, it had been different. When her light had burst forth — that strange, radiant power she herself did not understand — the thing inside him had gone silent. For the first time in years, he had felt peace. No claws. No hunger. No madness. Just silence.
But as the moon climbed higher, its pale glow spilling through the shattered roof, the silence broke.
A voice slithered through his mind, sharp and mocking.
"You thought I was gone? You thought her light could bury me? Fool. I am still here."
It laughed — a sound that was not sound, but a tearing inside his skull, jagged and merciless.
Lucan's breath hitched. Pain lanced through his chest, his veins burning as though fire coursed through them. His body trembled, his vision blurred. The thing inside him stirred, stretching, clawing, eager to take hold once more.
He gritted his teeth, pressing his palm against the bench as if to anchor himself. But the laughter only grew louder, echoing in every corner of his mind.
And then the madness came. The familiar, suffocating tide of rage and hunger. His muscles spasmed, his breath turned ragged, and he felt the first threads of control slipping from his grasp.
The chapel seemed to darken around him, the moonlight itself bending, warping, as though the thing inside him was twisting the world to its will.
Lucan's eyes burned, his lips curling back in a snarl.
The beast was awake again.
"H–how… how come…? Ugh—" Lucan staggered, then collapsed to the floor. His body convulsed, every muscle aflame though no fire touched him. It was as if he were burning alive from the inside out.
"How come, you ask?" The voice slithered through his mind, cruel and mocking. "I am forever inside you! And that woman must die! I will not allow her to bind you, to weaken us. Your life is mine to command! You are me, and I am you!"
Lucan clutched at his chest, his nails digging into his own skin.
"Ugh!" His scream tore through the chapel, raw and ragged, echoing against the broken walls. His strength was failing; he could no longer hold the thing inside him at bay.
The moonlight spilled through the shattered roof, silver and merciless, feeding the madness clawing at his soul. His vision blurred, his breath came in ragged gasps, and the laughter inside his head grew louder, sharper, until it drowned out thought itself.
The chapel doors creaked.
It was Elira.
She stepped inside, her face pale in the dim light, her eyes wide with fear. She had followed the sound of his screams, her heart pounding with every step. Now she froze in the doorway, staring at him.
Lucan was on his knees, his body trembling violently, his hands pressed against the stone floor as if to keep himself from being torn apart. His eyes glowed faintly, not with their usual cold fire, but with something darker, something feral.
"H—hey?" Her voice was barely a whisper, trembling.
He lifted his head, and for a moment she saw him — the man, not the monster. His face was twisted with pain, sweat dripping down his brow. "Stay… back," he rasped, his voice breaking. "I… can't… hold it…"
The shadows in the chapel seemed to writhe, stretching toward him, feeding on his agony. The voice inside him laughed again, louder now, as if mocking her presence.
"Yes… let her come closer. Let her see what you truly are."
His body convulsed, his nails scraping the stone until blood smeared across the floor. His eyes flickered — madness and humanity warring within them.
"Y—you…" His voice cracked, desperate. "If I lose myself… run."
But she did not move.
Elira's breath caught. The image of Lucan's face in the forest — when he had nearly killed her — flashed in her mind. The horrifying image of his curse. She wanted to run, but her feet would not obey.
She watched him in agony, fighting against it. Just as she managed to will herself to move, a voice whispered — soft, melodic, and close.
"Hold him…"
Elira spun around, startled. "Who's there?" she whispered, but no one answered. Only Lucan's groans filled the chapel.
Her gaze returned to him. Something in her heart refused to abandon him, even as terror clawed at her chest. Her feet carried her forward, as though they had a will of their own.
She knelt at his side, her breath catching, fear igniting every nerve.
"W—what… are… you… doing…" Lucan gasped, his voice strangled with pain.
The words came again, not spoken aloud but pressed into her mind: "Hold him."
Ignoring his protest, Elira hesitated only a moment before raising her trembling hand. Slowly, carefully, she placed it over his bloodied, clenched fist.
And then—
Silence.
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Far from the mist‑choked forest, in the hollowed crown of a ruined tower, a single crow perched on the stone sill. Its feathers gleamed like oil, its eyes glowing faintly red.
Alec stood beside it, one hand resting lightly on the crumbling stone. His eyes were closed, but his lips curved faintly, as though savoring a secret only he could hear.
Behind him, the leader shifted in the shadows of the chamber, his voice low and edged with impatience. "Well? Speak. What do you see?"
Alec opened his eyes. They were dark, but within them flickered the same crimson light that burned in the crow's gaze. "The duke and his men," he said softly. "They thought themselves hunters. Now they are prey."
The leader stepped closer, his cloak dragging across the broken floor. "And Lucan?"
Alec's smile deepened, though it held no warmth. "Untouched. The hounds keep the duke far from him. Every step they take is a step away from the ruins."
The crow gave a low, rattling caw, its wings shivering as if in answer. Alec tilted his head, listening to something only he could hear. "Another one falls," he murmured. "Dragged into the mist. Soon, Rensic will have no men left to command."
The leader's eyes narrowed, studying Alec. "You play a dangerous game, Alec. If you scatter them too far, they may never find Lucan at all."
"That," Alec replied, turning from the window, "is precisely the point. Lucan's path is not theirs to walk. Not yet, Master."
The crow's eyes dimmed, the glow fading as the connection ebbed. Alec exhaled slowly, as though releasing the last threads of the forest from his grasp.
The ruined tower groaned in the wind, its stones whispering with age. The leader's gaze lingered on Alec, unreadable. "Then let us hope your leash holds. For if it snaps…" His voice dropped to a growl. "…it will be your throat I take first."
Alec only smiled again, faint and knowing, as the crow spread its wings and vanished into the night.