The peace in the ruins didn't last. It never could.
By the third night, Elara sensed something wrong in the air the quiet too deep, the forest too still. Even Lucien stood unusually alert, his gaze fixed toward the trees.
"They've found you," he said simply.
Her stomach sank. "Who?"
"The living," he replied, voice laced with disgust. "Men with guns and torches. They're close."
She rushed to the window, heart pounding. Between the branches, she saw flickers of firelight and heard faint shouts carried by the wind. Adrian's voice rang clear, cold, commanding.
"Search the estate! Bring her back unharmed. If you see him, burn everything!"
Elara turned to Lucien, panic in her eyes. "You can't fight them all!"
Lucien smiled faintly, the expression terrifying in its calm. "Can't I?"
Before she could argue, he vanished. One blink, and he was gone. A blur of motion swallowed by the dark. Then came the screams.
The first gunshot cracked through the night, followed by the sickening sound of metal twisting like paper. Elara stumbled back from the window, breath shallow. The air itself seemed to pulse with unnatural energy. She heard the men's cries turn from anger to terror.
"Monster!"
"Run!"
"Dear God…"
Then silence. Only the wind remained, carrying the scent of blood and smoke.
Moments later, Lucien appeared in the doorway, his clothes dark with rain and something darker. His eyes glowed like dying embers. "It's done," he said softly.
Elara stared at him, horrified. "You killed them."
"They would have killed you," he said simply. "Would you prefer I let them?"
"I didn't ask for this!"
His voice hardened. "Neither did I. But the world rarely asks for monsters, and yet it keeps making them."
He turned away, jaw clenched, as if disgusted with himself. The sight stirred something sharp and painful in her chest. She wanted to hate him, needed to, but couldn't. There was sorrow beneath the violence, a kind of ruin she recognized too well.
A crash of thunder split the sky, and for a moment lightning illuminated his face: pale, streaked with blood, yet unbearably human.
Elara stepped forward. "Lucien…"
He froze, as if her voice pulled him back from a precipice. Slowly, he looked at her. "You shouldn't see me like this."
"I already have," she said softly. "And I'm still here."
His expression flickered, shock, pain, maybe even gratitude. "Then you're a fool," he murmured.
"Maybe," she replied. "But you saved me."
He exhaled, eyes dimming back to their usual crimson glow. "No. I postponed your death. There's a difference."
Outside, the forest still burned where torches had fallen. The glow reflected through the shattered windows, painting the ruined walls in gold and scarlet.
Elara watched the flames twist upward and whispered, "They'll send more."
"I know," Lucien said. "And when they come, they won't find us here."
He moved toward her, his voice lower now, almost gentle. "You said once you wanted more than the life they chose for you. That wish has been granted, Elara Venn. But freedom," he added, "always comes at a cost."
She met his gaze, her fear slowly giving way to something far more dangerous, trust. "Then let me pay it."
Lucien looked at her for a long time before answering, his tone quiet and heavy. "You already have."