Elara had never feared the night.
But carrying an unconscious stranger through the glowing forest — a stranger whose skin flickered between human warmth and cold curse — made every sound sharpen, every shadow feel alive.
The Heart Tree's roots had slowly unwrapped themselves, releasing them once the danger faded. Elara knelt beside him for a long moment, listening to the weak rise and fall of his chest before she finally whispered:
"I'm taking you home,"she didn't know why.
He could be dangerous.
He could ruin her life.
But something inside her, deeper than logic, deeper than fear, whispered that leaving him would break something in her she would never fix.
So she lifted him — or tried to.
He was heavier than he looked. His body slumped against hers, his cheek brushing her neck. A cold shiver crawled across her skin, yet she held him tighter, whispering to reassure him even though he couldn't hear.
Under the pale moonlight, she could see the dark veins creeping along his arms like living cracks. Every few steps, the markings pulsed, as though the curse inside him fought to break free.
Each pulse made her heart twist painfully.
He wasn't a monster.
He was suffering.
And for reasons she couldn't explain, she felt his pain as if it were her own.
---
The path home wound through tall silvergrass that whispered secrets when the wind passed. The forest creatures watched from a distance — glowing eyes, fluttering wings — but none dared approach.
They could feel it.
A cursed one walked among them.
Halfway home, the man groaned softly.
Elara stopped immediately, brushing hair from his face.
His brows were furrowed, his breath labored, as though he were trapped inside a nightmare.
"No… Elara… don't go…" he whispered.
Her heart stopped.
Again. Her name.
Again. That voice full of fear, of longing, of grief she didn't yet understand.
She knelt beside him, holding his hand gently.
"I'm here," she whispered. "I'm not leaving you."
His grip tightened weakly, like a child clinging to the last warm memory.
"Don't… leave me again…"
Elara froze.
Again?
Before she could think about it, his body jerked violently. The dark veins spread across his neck, lighting up like burning ink.
A strangled cry escaped his throat.
"No—no, no, stay with me," she begged, pulling him close. "Please! Stay!"
The curse pulsed once more — violently.
Then his body went still.
Too still.
Elara pressed her ear to his chest.
Ba-dump.
...
Ba-dump.
His heartbeat was slowing.
Fear swallowed the air around her. She placed her palms on his chest, speaking to him as if her voice alone could fight the darkness inside him.
"I don't know who you are. I don't know why fate brought you to me," she whispered, tears burning her eyes,
"but I'm not going to let you die in my arms."
Her voice cracked.
"Not again. Not anyone. Not ever."
She didn't understand the weight of her own words — why they felt like an echo of something she didn't remember. A memory that wasn't hers, A wound that didn't belong to her.
But the moment the words left her lips, the forest wind stilled.
The dark veins stopped spreading.
And for a moment — just a moment — the curse loosened its grip.
The man's breathing steadied again, just barely.
Elara swallowed hard, wiping her tears with trembling fingers.
"Thank you," she whispered to him even though he couldn't hear. "For fighting. For staying."
Then she forced herself up and carried him the rest of the way.
Her cottage was small — a single warm room built between two large tree roots, lit by fireflies she kept in glass lamps. Her bed was soft with woven moss and linen, the only truly comfortable place she owned.
She laid him there gently.
He looked strangely peaceful now, his long lashes resting against pale cheeks, curse-marks faint like fading bruises.
Without the pain contorting his features, he looked younger. Softer. Almost innocent.
Elara sat beside him, unable to pull her eyes away.
Who was he?
Why did he know her name?
Why did he look at her as if losing her would destroy him?
Her fingers hovered above his hand.
She shouldn't touch him.
A cursed stranger.
A man who brought shadows and danger.
But loneliness was its own kind of curse… one she had lived with far too long.
So she let her fingers gently intertwine with his. "Warm, Comforting and real."
"I should be afraid of you," she whispered, voice shaking. "But all I feel is… drawn to you."
She didn't want to admit the truth:
She had felt emptiness for years — a hollow place she had accepted as part of her. But now, holding his hand, it felt… filled. Even if only for this fragile moment.
As she drifted into a light sleep beside him, her head resting near his shoulder, the moon outside dimmed beneath passing clouds.
The Heart Tree's roots shifted in the earth, sensing destiny at work.
And in the quiet darkness, the man finally opened his eyes just a sliver — enough to see Elara sleep beside him.
His cold, pained expression softened.
In a voice barely louder than breath, he whispered:
"It's really you…"
And a single tear slid down his cheek — glowing faintly like starlight.