Elara woke before dawn, her body still aching from the strange pull she had felt last night.
A dull heat pulsed beneath her collarbone—right where Lucien's blood had touched her.
She pressed her fingers against her skin, expecting smooth warmth.
Instead, she felt it.
A raised line.
A shape.
A mark.
Her breath stuttered. She rushed to the small mirror hanging above her wash-basin.
When she pulled down the fabric of her dress, her heart almost jumped out of her chest.
There—glowing faintly—was a sigil, twisted and unfamiliar, like roots curling toward a flame.
"What… what is this?" Elara whispered.
The mark flickered with a deep crimson light, pulsing in time with her heartbeat.
She didn't remember receiving a wound. She didn't remember magic.
She only remembered Lucien leaning close…
His breath cold…
His voice low enough to slide beneath her skin…
"Some things are written long before either of us were born."
A shiver crawled down her spine.
She needed answers.
–––––
As the sun began to rise, Elara stepped outside the small infirmary, hoping fresh air would clear her thoughts. Villagers were already gathering, whispering—too loud to be accidental.
"She healed him with fire in her hands—"
"No, no, it wasn't fire. It was blood—her blood glowed—"
"Mark my words, nothing good comes from mixing with creatures of the night."
Elara swallowed hard.
They were talking about her.
And they were afraid.
She wrapped her cloak tighter around herself and hurried away—only to collide with a tall figure standing in the shadows of the trees.
Lucien.
He didn't look like a monster today—no fangs, no red eyes.
Just a man carved from midnight, tall, impossibly calm, watching her as if he could sense every thought she tried to hide.
"You came," she whispered before she could stop herself.
"I had no choice."
His eyes lowered… to the mark just barely visible beneath her dress.
"Elara," he murmured, voice different—warmer, almost pained, "show me."
Her fingers trembled, but she pulled the fabric aside.
Lucien inhaled sharply.
The reaction alone terrified her.
"What does it mean?" she demanded.
He stepped closer, his voice a low whisper.
"That is a Bloodbound Seal. It should not exist—not anymore."
Her heartbeat skipped. "A seal? You mean… a curse?"
"No," he said quietly. "A bond."
Elara stepped back, shaking her head.
"No, no, I didn't agree to any bond—I didn't ask for this—"
"I know." His voice dropped. "The bond chose you."
Her breath stilled.
A bond with a creature like him?
A bond that pulsed beneath her skin, alive, aware?
"I didn't do this to you," Lucien continued. "But someone wanted this connection forged. Someone ancient. Someone dangerous."
Her mind spun.
"Then remove it," she whispered.
For the first time since she met him, Lucien's expression cracked.
"I can't."
The world stilled.
Elara's knees weakened. "Then what do I do?"
Lucien looked at her the way one looks at something precious—something they shouldn't touch.
"You survive," he said. "And you stay close to me. Because if anyone else discovers what you now carry… they will hunt you."
The mark burned suddenly—hot, bright, painful.
Elara gasped, stumbling forward.
Lucien caught her, pulling her into his chest, his hands steady and cold but strangely comforting.
"It begins," he whispered into her hair. "The bond is awakening."
Elara clutched his coat as the heat surged through her body like liquid lightning.
"What is happening to me?" she cried.
Lucien held her tighter.
"You're becoming part of a prophecy you were never meant to touch."
When the pain finally eased, Elara could barely stand.
Lucien lifted her effortlessly, cradling her against him.
"I'm taking you somewhere safe."
Her voice trembled. "And if I don't want to go with you?"
His answer was quiet… but unshakeable.
"Then I will follow you anyway. Because the bond ties your life to mine… and mine to yours."
The last thing she saw before darkness closed around her was Lucien's eyes—glowing softly with something she couldn't name.
Something almost human.
Something almost… longing.