The scream ripped through the forest.
Sylvera jerked upright so fast she felt dizzy. Her heart was slamming. For one stupid second she tried to convince herself it was a dream.
Then she heard it again.
Not a scream this time.
A wet, tearing sound.
The kind that didn't belong in a nightmare.
Her throat tightened.
Guard? An animal? Lorian—
She stopped that thought before it could finish. Lorian didn't get hurt. Not him. He was the one everyone feared. He was the king.
Except… he wasn't in the tent.
The empty space beside her hit harder than the scream. Panic crawled up her chest, hot and sour. She didn't even think. She grabbed her cloak and pushed outside.
Cold air punched her in the face.
The campfire behind her flickered weakly, throwing light that didn't reach far. Everything past it was just dark shapes and moving shadow.
Please. Please let him be fine.
Her feet sank into the damp soil. Bare. Silent. She moved fast anyway, stepping around roots and broken branches, keeping low.
The deeper she went, the louder the sounds grew. Something rough. Animal. A low, ugly growl.
Then a whimper.
Small.
Brittle.
Sylvera slowed without meaning to. Her stomach dropped straight through her body.
That's a child.
Her fingers twitched. Blue sparks jumped along her skin, quick and nervous. Magic spilling out because fear always pulled it out of her.
Blood hit her next.
The smell reached her before the clearing did. Copper and rot, sharp enough to sting the back of her nose. She swallowed hard. She kept moving.
Thorns scratched her legs. She didn't care. She pushed through them anyway.
Maybe it's a wolf. Maybe it's—
The trees broke apart.
And there he was.
Lorian stood in the clearing under the moon, calm and still, like he was waiting for someone to arrive. No armour. No gold. Just a dark tunic.
His hands were red.
His mouth too.
Something thick stained his collar. Black-red. Fresh.
Sylvera's breath caught so hard it hurt.
"No," she whispered, but it came out wrong. Weak. Like she didn't believe herself.
At his feet lay a child.
Small body. Open. Broken in a way her mind refused to hold.
Her lungs emptied on their own. She made a sound but it wasn't a scream. It was barely anything. A scrape in her throat.
She couldn't move.
Around him, the guards crouched over the body. Not standing like soldiers. Crouched.
Eating.
No blades. No words.
Just teeth.
Bone cracked.
One of them tore a strip of flesh and swallowed like he'd been starving for weeks.
Sylvera's vision swam. Her knees shook. She tasted bile.
Run. Run now.
She couldn't.
Her feet felt glued to the ground.
This wasn't war.
This wasn't punishment.
It was hunger. Plain and ugly.
And Lorian was in the middle of it.
The man she—
No.
Not a man.
"A monster," Sylvera said. The word shook, but it was real. She felt it in her bones.
She stumbled back. One step. Another.
Lorian looked up.
Slowly.
Like he'd heard her from the start.
Moonlight hit his face. The blood on his jaw. The way it streaked down his neck.
His eyes met hers.
And whatever stupid fragile thing had been holding her hope together just snapped.
"Ah," he said, voice soft. Almost pleased. "My love."
His tone didn't match what she was seeing. It didn't belong here. It belonged somewhere warm. Somewhere safe.
"I hoped you'd sleep through this." He glanced down at the child, mildly annoyed. "But this one… wouldn't stop."
Sylvera shook her head without choosing to. Once. Twice. Harder.
Her mouth opened.
Nothing came.
Say something. Do something.
"What…" Her voice came out scraped raw. "What have you done?"
Lorian stood fully, unhurried. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The motion was casual.
Blood smeared across his skin.
"I wanted to spare you," he said quietly. Almost gentle. "I did."
He stepped closer. Each step felt heavy, final.
"But some truths don't stay hidden forever."
Sylvera's hands clenched and blue flame sparked at her fingertips. It hissed and flickered, uneven. Her magic was panicking the same way she was.
Run. Burn him. Anything.
But her arms shook. Her breath shook. Her whole body felt like it was coming apart.
Lorian tilted his head.
That small familiar motion, the one that used to make her stomach flip.
Now it made her feel sick.
His eyes weren't tender.
They weren't even angry.
They were hungry.
"You put a spell on me," he murmured, smiling slowly.
Not kind.
Not playful.
Cruel.
"But what you don't know, Sylvera…"
He leaned in slightly. Dropped his voice.
"…is I put one on you first."
The words landed like a knife.
Her world cracked.
Sylvera ran.
Not gracefully. Not like a heroine.
She ran like prey.
The Blackthorn Woods tore at her as she fled. Branches grabbed her cloak. Thorns ripped the fabric. Her hair snagged and yanked.
Her lungs burned. Each breath scraped her throat raw.
Run. Don't stop.
Behind her, his voice drifted through the trees.
Low.
Amused.
"Running only makes it sweeter, little witch!"
Her chest tightened. Gods, he sounded entertained. Like this was fun. Like she was a game.
This is the man who kissed my hands. Who—
She choked off the thought. She couldn't afford it.
Magic sparked in her palms, frantic. She tried to form words. Tried to pull together a spell she'd used a hundred times.
It wouldn't hold.
Everything slipped through her mind. Panic ruined the shapes. Ruined the focus.
His laughter rang out again.
Sharp.
Wrong.
"You can't hide from me," he called. "Not after what you promised."
Promised.
The word turned her stomach.
The forest twisted around her. Moonlight didn't help. It made everything worse—white strips of light between black trunks, like ribs.
A root caught her ankle.
She went down hard.
Pain exploded through her shoulder. Dirt filled her mouth. She gagged.
Move. Get up.
She pushed up, too slow—
A hand grabbed her hair.
Hard.
Cold.
She was yanked upright.
Sylvera screamed. It ripped out of her, raw and ugly. She fought, kicking, twisting, nails clawing at his wrist.
"Now, now," Lorian murmured in her ear. "Is this how you repay my love?"
She spat at him. Mud and blood.
He smiled.
Slowly.
"That fire," he said, wiping his cheek with lazy grace. "That's why I chose you."
He snapped his fingers.
Shadows shifted.
Guards stepped out from the dark, faces smeared red, mouths slick. Closing in.
Sylvera tried to scream again—
Leather jammed into her mouth, cutting the sound off. The gag bit deep. Pain flared in her jaw.
She thrashed harder. Her magic flared, then fizzled. Nothing landed. Nothing worked.
"Better," Lorian whispered.
He smoothed her hair back, almost tender.
It made her skin crawl.
"Can't have you burning down my forest," he murmured, "with that pretty magic."