The forest was no longer merely a place Sophia saw from a distance.It had become a presence — a consciousness — something that breathed, listened, and waited. And now, it felt as though it had followed her home.
She sensed it the moment she stepped into the house.
Not from any visible change. Nothing was out of place. Not the coat on the hook, not the sketches scattered across the table, not the mug she'd left in the sink.
But the air…The air was wrong.
Heavier.Denser.Charged, as though something unseen had slithered through the cracks and now lingered just beyond the reach of the light.
Sophia closed the door slowly behind her, her fingers trembling despite the warmth inside. She leaned against the wood, pressing her forehead to it as she tried to draw a steady breath.
Her heart wasn't listening.
You shouldn't have gone into the forest.The thought throbbed in the back of her mind.
But she had.And she'd seen him.
The man with the eyes like burning obsidian — the stranger whose presence felt like it belonged to a world older and darker than Muntenia itself. The man who shouldn't have survived that terrifying thing moving behind the trees. The man who had stepped out of shadow as though he ruled it.
And the way he had spoken her name — Sophia — like he had known it long before she ever uttered it aloud…
She shivered.
She pushed off the door and walked into the living room. The fireplace was dark; she hadn't left it like that. She always kept it burning at night now. She needed the light. The warmth. The sound.
She set her bag down and crouched in front of the hearth, placing wood inside with stiff fingers. She struck a match, watched the flame bloom, then touched it to the kindling.
The fire took quickly.
Good.Good…
But the warmth couldn't chase away the sensation crawling across her skin, like she was being watched from behind.
She resisted the urge to turn around immediately. She stood slowly, forcing herself to breathe evenly.
You're alone.Of course she was.Of course.
But when she turned—
She wasn't.
Someone stood in the doorway.
Tall. Still. A shadow against the dim hallway.
Sophia froze. Her throat locked. Her pulse hammered so hard she thought she might faint.
He stepped into the firelight.
It was him.
The stranger from the forest.
His coat was damp with melted snow, dark hair tousled like he had run through half the woods to reach her. Those strange eyes — sharp, black, luminous in the firelight — locked onto hers with an intensity that rooted her in place.
For a heartbeat, neither spoke.
Then, in a low, quiet voice that slid under her skin like smoke, he said:
"You shouldn't have been out there alone."
Sophia's voice came out a cracked whisper. "H-How did you—? How are you in my house?"
He didn't answer that. His gaze swept over her, not in a crude way, but in a way that stripped her down to every thought she'd had in the past hour.
"You're afraid."
"No—" she began, but her body betrayed her.
He stepped closer. Slow. Controlled. Deliberate.
"Don't lie to me," he murmured.
His presence filled the room, bending the air around him. Her instinct said she should run. Her curiosity said she should stay. Something deeper — something ancient, irrational — said she had been waiting for him longer than she realized.
That terrified her most of all.
"What are you?" she breathed.
He tilted his head slightly, like he hadn't been called that before. Or like the answer was too complicated, too dangerous, to speak aloud.
Instead, he repeated:
"You shouldn't have been in the forest."
"Why? What was that thing—?"
His expression hardened into something sharp. "There are creatures in those woods that wake only for the scent of fear. You walked right into them."
She swallowed hard. "But you… you were there too."
A shadow flickered across his face. "I'm not like them."
Something about the way he said it made the fire crackle louder, as though the flames themselves reacted to him.
Sophia stepped back unconsciously. He noticed.
His jaw tightened, and for the first time, she saw something human in him — something like regret.
"I didn't come to frighten you," he said quietly. "But you're in danger. More than you understand."
Danger.Of course she was.She had felt it since the first night.
But something else curled through her chest — something unwelcome, confusing, warm.
"Why do you care?" she whispered.
His eyes locked onto hers.
"Because," he murmured, stepping closer again, "I heard you."
She blinked. "When?"
"The night you arrived." His voice dropped lower, almost to a whisper. "When you stood at the window. When you couldn't sleep. When the forest called — and you listened."
She felt heat spread through her stomach, a slow burn that had nothing to do with fear.
"You watched me?" she said, breathless.
He didn't look away.
"Yes."
She should be terrified.She should scream.She should run.
But instead…
She stepped closer.
"Why?" she asked.
He reached up — slowly, giving her time to pull away — and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers were warm. Too warm.
"Because something in you answered the night. And the night… does not call people without reason."
Her breath trembled out of her.
Being this close to him felt dangerous in a different way — not the physical danger of the forest, but a magnetic pull she couldn't resist.
A dark gravity.
"Tell me your name," she whispered.
He hesitated.
Then: "Darian."
The name felt old. Heavy. Like a secret said aloud for the first time in years.
"Darian," she repeated softly.
He closed his eyes briefly, as though the sound of his name on her tongue stirred something he'd buried deep.
When he opened them, the intensity in his gaze nearly undid her.
"You should leave Muntenia," he said, voice rawer than before.
"I… can't."
"You can," he whispered, stepping closer. "And you should."
"If I do," she said quietly, "will the forest stop calling me?"
His eyes darkened. "No."
"And will you?"
That hit him like a blow.
His breath caught — she heard it — and for a moment, the mask slipped entirely.
"No," he said, voice barely audible. "I won't."
Their faces were inches apart now.One more breath and she'd feel his.
Her heart raced. Not with fear.
With something forbidden.Something dangerous.Something she couldn't stop even if she wanted to.
"Then I'm not leaving," she whispered.
His hand cupped her jaw gently — too gently for someone with eyes like his. His thumb brushed her cheek, warm and slow, sending a shiver down her spine.
"You don't understand what staying means," he said.
"Then explain it."
He shook his head. "If I tell you, you won't sleep tonight."
She leaned impossibly closer. "I haven't slept since I arrived."
For the first time, a smirk ghosted across his lips — a dark, reluctant, devastating thing.
"You're braver than you look," he murmured.
"Or more foolish."
"Maybe both."
The air between them tightened like a wire pulled taut.
Then—
A crash outside.A violent, guttural sound that didn't belong to any human throat.
Sophia jolted.
Darian's entire body shifted. The warmth vanished. The softness evaporated. His expression snapped back into hard, lethal focus.
"Get away from the window," he commanded, pushing her behind him with one fluid movement.
"What is it—?"
"Stay back," he growled, stepping forward like a predator scenting threat.
The sound came again — closer this time. Something massive brushed against the side of the house.
Sophia's pulse roared in her ears.
Darian turned his head slightly.
"Don't move," he said. "And no matter what you hear, do not open that door."
She whispered, "Darian—"
He looked at her with an intensity that stopped her breath entirely.
"I'll come back."
Then, with a movement too fast for a normal man, he slipped out into the night.
The door slammed behind him.
Sophia stood frozen.
The forest outside exhaled — long, low, hungry.
And she realized:
Whatever followed her home…Whatever stalked the woods…Whatever screamed at midnight…
It wasn't afraid of Darian.
It was waiting for him.