The wedding date had been set for midsummer.
Every morning brought another dress fitting, another visit from the Alderidges' servants, another reminder that her life no longer belonged to her.
By the fourth week, Elara could barely sleep. Each time she closed her eyes, she dreamed of fire sweeping through a grand hall and a man standing at the center of it, untouched by the flames. His eyes burned like coals, and when she woke, the whisper of his voice lingered in her mind: Come to me.
That night, she sat at her desk with the journal open before her. The final entry stared up at her:
If the curse ever stirs again, flee the promise made in gold. Follow the path of ashes. He will find you.
The words seemed to pulse with meaning. Elara rose, heart hammering, and packed a small satchel, a cloak, a loaf of bread, the journal, and nothing else. Outside, the moon hung low and red over Ashmere, painting the world in a shade too close to blood.
She crept past her parents' room. Her mother murmured in her sleep; her father's heavy snore followed like thunder. When she stepped outside, the air smelled of rain and freedom.
Every instinct told her to run fast and far yet her feet carried her toward the forest. The same forest she'd sworn never to enter. The path was narrow and wild, lit only by moonlight filtering through black branches. Somewhere ahead, wolves howled.
Her boots slipped on wet earth, and she stumbled, clutching a tree to steady herself. For a moment, she almost turned back. Then she heard it.. faint, almost human, a voice drifting between the trees.
"Elara…"
Her breath froze. She spun toward the sound. "Who's there?"
Silence answered, broken only by the whisper of leaves. Then, a flicker of movement, a figure crossing between the shadows. She couldn't see his face, only the outline of someone impossibly tall, moving with inhuman grace.
Panic surged. She ran. Branches clawed at her cloak, rain slicked her hair, but she didn't stop until the trees broke open into a clearing. There, half-buried in ivy and mist, stood the Vale Estate or what remained of it.
Black stone walls jutted from the earth like bones, and shattered windows gaped like empty eyes. Yet despite its ruin, the air around it hummed with life or something close to it.
Elara's heart pounded as she stepped inside. The grand staircase still stood, though half its steps were cracked. Dust swirled around her like drifting memories. And then she felt it that presence again, colder than the wind, older than the earth.
"You shouldn't have come here."
The voice was deep, rich, and closer than she expected. Elara whirled around. He stood at the base of the stairs, shadows clinging to him like a second skin. His eyes the same burning crimson she'd seen in the painting locked on hers.
"I… I didn't mean to trespass," she stammered.
His lips curved, not quite a smile. "Trespass? No. You were called."
Lightning flashed through the broken ceiling, and for an instant she saw him clearly. Tall, beautiful, and terrible. His skin glowed faintly pale in the storm's light, and when he stepped forward, she saw the faint glint of fangs.
Elara's heart stopped.
The legend.. the curse, was standing right before her.