Blood and Ashes
The forest was merciless.
Branches tore at Elara's cloak, the mud sucked at her boots, and every breath came ragged and shallow. She didn't know how long she'd been running only that she couldn't stop. Not after what she'd seen.
But as dawn began to gray the sky, her strength faltered. The rain had turned the earth slick and treacherous. One misstep, one sharp stone, and pain exploded in her leg. She fell hard, the world spinning before settling into a blur of rain and moss.
Her vision dimmed. "Help…" she whispered, though no one could hear.
Except someone did.
Through the mist, a shadow moved. For a moment she thought it was an illusion until the air grew colder, heavier. The forest seemed to bow before him as Lucien Vale emerged from the fog, cloak trailing like spilled ink.
He looked down at her with unreadable eyes. "I warned you," he said quietly.
Elara tried to push herself up. "I didn't think you'd follow me."
"I didn't," he replied. "You bled, and I smelled it."
His gaze lingered on the cut along her thigh. She saw the hunger flash behind his eyes, sharp, primal. But he turned away, as if fighting himself.
"You're hurt," he said. "You'll die before you reach the town."
She winced. "Then let me."
Lucien's expression hardened. "Do not mistake my mercy for disinterest."
Before she could protest, he knelt beside her and tore a strip from his own sleeve. His fingers brushed her skin as he tied the makeshift bandage. The contact sent a chill through her… not from fear, but from something stranger. His touch was cold, yet the air around him thrummed with life, ancient and electric.
She stared at him. "Why help me?"
He hesitated, gaze fixed on the wound. "Because once, long ago, someone helped me. And I failed her."
The forest fell silent. Even the wind seemed to listen.
Lucien lifted her easily, his strength unnatural, effortless. She wanted to struggle, to demand answers, but exhaustion swallowed her words. As they moved through the woods, she caught glimpses of his face not the monster from her nightmares, but a man carrying centuries of sorrow.
They reached the ruins again by nightfall. Inside, the fire he had lit earlier still smoldered faintly. Lucien set her down near it. "You'll stay here until you can walk," he said.
Elara met his eyes. "And if I refuse?"
He smiled, not kindly, but not cruelly either. "Then the wolves outside will finish what the forest started."
Despite her fear, a small laugh escaped her. "So either way, I'm trapped."
"Trapped," he repeated softly, as if the word wounded him. "You and I both."
For a long time, neither spoke. The flames crackled, and Elara noticed how their light played against his face, pale skin, sharp features, eyes that glowed like embers in the dark.
Finally, she whispered, "You don't have to pretend you care."
Lucien's gaze met hers, and for the first time, she saw something fragile behind his calm .. guilt. "I don't," he said. "But I remember what it means to lose everything."
He turned away before she could respond. Outside, thunder rumbled again, distant, but drawing closer.
And for the first time since the night she ran, Elara felt something unfamiliar stir in her chest.
Not fear. Not pity.
But the first flicker of connection between the girl running from her fate… and the monster who could never escape his