Elara woke to the pale light of dawn filtering through the small window. The mist hung thick among the trees, curling around the trunks and brushing against the forest floor like silent fingers. She pulled the thin blanket tighter around her shoulders, shivering despite the warmth of the room.
Something felt… different.
A strange, familiar pull tugged at her chest, soft but insistent. She couldn't place it. It was like a memory half-remembered, like the forest itself was calling to her—but she had never been here before. Her pulse quickened.
Why does this feel like home? she thought, though her mind knew it made no sense. I've never been here.
A knock on the door startled her. Rowan's voice followed. "Elara? I brought you something to eat."
She pulled herself upright. When he entered, he carried a wooden tray with bread, a small bowl of steaming stew, and a cup of dark tea. His movements were calm, deliberate, steady—the kind of steadiness that made her chest ache with relief.
" I made something ."Try at least a little."
She hesitated, her fingers brushing the tray. The warmth of the bowl against her palms made the strange pull in her chest intensify—like the forest itself hummed faintly beneath her skin.
"I… I don't know if I can," she admitted, voice trembling.
"You can," Rowan said softly, not pushing her. "Even a small bite will help."
She lifted the spoon and tasted the stew. The flavor was earthy, bitter, and foreign—but warm. Real. Something inside her stirred at the taste, an echo of… something she couldn't name.
Rowan watched her quietly. "You feel it," he said after a moment. "The forest, the land… it notices you. That is why the creatures behaved strangely yesterday."
Elara blinked. "I… felt it," she whispered. "It's… familiar. I don't understand why."
"You will," he said, almost to himself. "Eventually."
She swallowed, her chest tightening. "Rowan… why are you helping me? You don't know me."
"I do not," he admitted. "Yet I know enough to know you must survive here. That is enough reason."
A shiver ran through her. For the first time since waking in this strange land, she felt a flicker of something fragile and unexpected—trust. Rowan wasn't judging her fear. He wasn't asking impossible questions. He simply… cared.
Outside, the forest stirred again. Shadows shifted in ways that made the mist curl unnaturally. Birds remained still. A fox froze mid-step, its fur glinting faintly.
Something long sealed and forgotten stirred deep beneath the earth. A centuries-old vampire, bound for ages, felt the faint pull of life above him and flexed fingers long unused. Memories of chaos, fire, and a woman lost centuries ago ignited in his mind.
He smirked, sharp teeth flashing, a glint of dark humor and hunger in his eyes. So… she is alive. And the world moves on.
Inside, Elara took another cautious bite of the stew. The strange familiarity of the forest, the odd calm of Rowan beside her, and the warm meal in her hands made her heart ache with a mixture of fear and wonder.
Something is calling me, she thought quietly. Something I don't understand… yet it feels like home.
And deep below the roots and stone, unseen by her, the first threads of an old darkness began to awaken.