The flames devoured the letter, its words curling into embers before vanishing into the night. I watched in silence, my hands trembling as the fire reflected in my silver-blue eyes. The truth—my only proof of innocence—was gone. There was no turning back now.

I exhaled shakily, tightening my cloak around me as I turned away from the dying fire. The cold night air bit at my skin, but it was nothing compared to the chill in my chest.

This was the only way.

I mounted my horse, my fingers gripping the reins as I urged it forward, heart pounding louder with every hoofbeat. Lysander. The thought of facing him made my stomach twist. Would he understand? Would he even listen?

No.

He would be confused. Hurt. But I had to be the one to tell him. If the letter had reached him first, if he had read Yvonne’s carefully spun lies before hearing my side, then it would be over.

I arrived at the palace stables and dismounted, my legs unsteady as I stepped onto the cobblestone path leading to the grand hall. Every step felt heavier than the last.

The guards hesitated before letting me through. Their eyes lingered, filled with uncertainty, curiosity… maybe even suspicion. Whispers chased me through the corridors, but I ignored them.

Focus.

As I entered the hall, I saw him—Crown Prince Lysander Rosenthalis.

He stood by the arched windows, bathed in the last golden hues of the setting sun. His golden-blond hair shimmered under the fading light, a stark contrast to the deep green of his royal attire. He turned as I approached, his sharp emerald eyes softening for a fleeting moment before masking them behind unreadable calm.

“You came.” His voice was steady, but there was something behind it—a quiet relief.

“I had to.” I kept my voice from shaking. “There’s something we must discuss.”

Lysander studied me carefully, his gaze searching, as if he already knew what I was about to say.

Still, I said it anyway.

“I want to dissolve our engagement.”

Silence.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face before it settled into something unreadable. Hurt? Disbelief? I couldn’t tell.

“…Why?”

My breath caught.

I had prepared for this—I had planned my words carefully, a well-crafted explanation about how this engagement was nothing but a political move, how our kingdom needed something different now. But standing here, looking into his eyes…

I couldn’t say it.

“I—”

“You don’t love me?” His voice was quiet, but the weight of his words crushed my chest.

My fingers curled into fists. If I admitted to loving him, it would only make this harder. If I lied, it would only break him more.

“This isn’t about love,” I forced out.

His jaw tensed, and then, slowly, his fingers tightened around a folded piece of parchment in his hand.

My breath hitched.

A letter.

A letter that looked far too familiar.

The letter.

The same letter I had burned.

I felt the blood drain from my face.

He noticed my reaction and looked down at the paper, fingers trembling before he clenched it in his fist.

“This letter,” he muttered, voice thick with something unreadable, “says you’re guilty of treason.”

Yvonne.

I should have known she would have made a second copy.

I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to stay calm. “Would you believe me if I said no?”

Lysander’s grip on the letter tightened. He hesitated.

That hesitation was all I needed to see.

He wasn’t sure.

He wanted to believe in me, but something inside him whispered otherwise. Doubt. It curled around him like a shadow, and even though I had expected it, it still hurt more than I wanted to admit.

I turned away before he could see the way my face twisted in pain.

I had done what I needed to do.

And now, it was time to leave.

With nothing but silence between us, I walked away, out of the grand hall, out into the cold night air.

I mounted my horse without looking back.

And I rode.

Away from the palace. Away from Lysander.

Away from the life that had once been mine.

The night was thick with silence, save for the rhythmic clopping of my horse’s hooves against the damp forest floor. The further I rode into the unknown, the heavier my limbs felt. My body was betraying me, exhaustion creeping into every muscle, yet I couldn’t afford to stop.

I tightened my grip on the reins, but my hands trembled. I’ve been riding for hours… My body can’t keep up. I needed to keep moving, to put as much distance as possible between me and the palace, yet my vision blurred, my head growing light.

The wind howled through the trees as I galloped toward the borders, my cloak whipping behind me. My heart pounded as the familiar roads blurred into the darkness.

I didn’t know how long I rode, but at some point, the path disappeared, swallowed by the thick shadows of the forest.

Then—

A sharp crack split through the eerie quiet.

I jolted upright, my heart hammering as I yanked the reins. My horse snorted, ears flicking toward the unseen disturbance. I scanned the dense trees, my breath uneven.

Something’s watching me…

My horse reared with a terrified neigh, frightened by something unseen, and before I could steady it—

I tumbled to the ground, the breath knocked from my lungs as the world spun. Pain shot through my side, but I barely had time to react before I heard it—

A low growl.

A pair of glowing eyes emerged from the shadows.

Then another.

And another.

Wolves.

The wolves stepped into the moonlight, their sleek bodies shifting with lethal grace. A low growl rumbled through the clearing, the sound sending ice through my veins.

I scrambled to my feet, my pulse thundering as glowing eyes emerged from the darkness.

I reached for my dagger, gripping it tightly, even as I knew—

Pain flared through my ribs. I gasped, my fingers clawing at the dirt as I struggled to push myself up. My horse—my only means of escape—bolted into the darkness.

I was outnumbered.

And alone.

The wolves circled me, their predatory eyes gleaming, saliva dripping from bared fangs. My heartbeat pounded against my ribs. I could almost hear the whispers of fate laughing at me.

Is this how I die? Not by execution… but by wild beasts?

One of them lunged.

I scrambled backward, my fingers curling around a thick branch. I swung with everything I had, the wood connecting with a sharp crack against its snout. The wolf yelped but barely staggered. They weren’t afraid.

I was running out of time.

Then, before the beast could strike again—

A whistle pierced the air.

A dark blur moved with unnatural speed, and a spear shot through the night, impaling the lunging wolf midair.

The body crumpled to the ground with a sickening thud. Blood seeped into the earth.

The pack froze.

A figure stepped from the shadows, his sleek hair catching the moonlight. His dark cloak billowed as he moved, the gleam of steel flashing in his grip. Not a man, but a force of destruction.

The wolves whimpered, tails tucking between their legs before vanishing into the trees.

I knew his name before he spoke.

Zagan Graventhorn.

The high commander of the border army. A cursed man feared even by his own kingdom. And he was standing before me, watching me as if deciding whether I was worth saving… or killing.

His eyes locked onto mine, cold and unreadable. Like looking into the abyss.

“A foolish place for a lady to wander alone.” His voice was deep, rich with quiet menace, yet steady—as if my presence was merely an inconvenience to him.

I swallowed hard, forcing my body to stand despite the pain.

His gaze swept over me, pausing on my torn sleeve, where blood trickled from my scraped arm. “And you are not just any lady, are you?”

I knew I should answer, but my mind spun with the implications. Zagan served the crown. If he realized who I was—

“You recognize me,” I murmured instead, my voice steadier than I felt.

His lips curled, not quite a smirk, but something close. “I make it a habit to know the names of those who disrupt my evening.”

A soldier stepped forward, dressed in dark armor. “My Lord, shall we take her back to the capital?”

Panic seized me. No. I can’t go back.

I turned sharply and ran.

I barely made it three steps before the air around me crackled. Something unseen wrapped around my legs, forcing them still.

I gasped, looking down. His dark energy coiled around my ankles, pulsing like living shadows.

He took a slow step forward, watching as I struggled against the invisible binds. There was no amusement in his expression—only cool observation, like a man testing a theory.

“You run,” he mused, tilting his head. “Why?”

I clenched my teeth. “Let me go.”

“That is not an answer.”

I met his gaze, fire flashing through my exhaustion. “Then allow me a question in return—what does a man such as yourself care for the fate of a runaway?”

His silence stretched between us, an invisible battle of wills.

Then, he stepped closer. The scent of steel and midnight surrounded me as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just above a whisper.

“Tell me… why should I let you live?”

I inhaled sharply. The weight of his words pressed against me. I could feel the eyes of his men, waiting for his command. Waiting for my execution.

I had to think. Fast.

I swallowed, then lifted my chin, refusing to let my fear show.

“Because,” I said, voice calm, unwavering, “I have nowhere else to go.”

A beat of silence.

Then, something flickered in his expression—interest? Amusement? I couldn’t tell.

Finally, his lips quirked into a slow, knowing smirk.

A wolf lay dying before me, its labored breaths shallow, its whimpers fading into the stillness of the forest. Blood pooled beneath its trembling form, dark as ink beneath the moonlight. My body ached, my limbs weak, but fear kept me frozen in place.

Zagan moved without urgency, stepping toward the wounded beast. He crouched, his cloak pooling around him like the very shadows that had birthed him. Then, with deliberate slowness, he removed his glove.

The air turned frigid.

My stomach twisted as his bare hand met the wolf’s fur. A moment of silence—then a grotesque cracking sound split the night.

My breath caught.

The wolf’s body seized, its limbs stiffening unnaturally. Its flesh dulled, as though life itself were being drained from it. Within mere heartbeats, the creature was no longer flesh and blood, but cold, lifeless stone.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as dust.

He stood, flexing his fingers as if the act had cost him nothing, as if he had not just snuffed out life with a mere touch. His glimmering galaxy eyes flickered to me, unreadable, assessing.

"Then, Lady Reinilda," his voice was smooth, yet devoid of warmth, "you must make up your mind. Now, or you will end up the same."

I could not breathe.

I had known fear before. The weight of betrayal, the cold steel of a blade poised to strike, the merciless gazes of those who had condemned me. But this—this was terror unlike any I had known.

My body moved before my mind could protest. My knees hit the frozen earth, my hands clenched into the dirt.

"Please… spare me," I whispered, my voice weak, unsteady. "I’ll do anything—please."

A scoff. Low, indifferent.

"You’re wounded."

The words barely registered. My pulse pounded in my ears, my vision blurred from exhaustion and pain.

Zagan turned to his soldiers, his command as impassive as ever. "Attend to her. Take her to Velmira."

Then, his gaze found me once more, sharp as a blade.

"You have until dawn to decide."

The moment stretched—his presence still looming, suffocating. And then, just as swiftly as he had appeared, he was gone, swallowed by the night, leaving nothing but the weight of his words and the lifeless stone wolf at my feet.

_______________________________________

Dawn’s light spills over the horizon, casting long shadows over the stone walls of Velmira. I pull the borrowed cloak tighter around my shoulders, the fabric still carrying the scent of the soldier who lent it to me. The wind is crisp at this height, sweeping through the high watchtower where I stand. Below, Zagan’s domain stretches before me—a hidden kingdom at the edge of the empire, ruled by the man everyone fears.

I had expected ruins, the remnants of a tyrant’s cruelty. Instead, I see discipline, strength. Order.

The walls are massive, reinforced with layers of stone and enchanted sigils that gleam faintly under the rising sun. Soldiers patrol tirelessly, their gazes sharp, their hands never far from their weapons. They move with purpose, not the idle leisure of men biding their time.

“Keep an eye on the skies!” a voice calls from below. I glance down, catching sight of a soldier gesturing urgently to his comrades. “Celestians have been circling the perimeter!”

Celestians? The word tugs at my memory, but I can’t quite place it. 

Celestians are grotesque, winged creatures that lurk beyond the empire’s borders, feared for their unnatural resilience and hunger for magic. Their hunched, sinewy bodies are covered in patchy, ashen-gray skin, stretched taut over jagged bones. Their elongated limbs end in razor-sharp claws, perfect for tearing through flesh.

Bat-like wings, leathery and veined with pulsating crimson, extend from their hunched backs. Their faces are the most horrifying—twisted mockeries of humanoid features, with hollowed-out cheeks, jagged fangs protruding from snarling mouths, and large, blackened eyes with an unnatural hunger.

They are not just mindless beasts, it is said that with enough magic consumed, it can take on human form, shedding its monstrous appearance to walk unnoticed among mortals. But their hunger does not stop there. Once in human guise, they feast on life itself—draining the vitality of those they deceive, adding stolen years to their own existence. 

I turn my attention to the stone balcony overlooking the stronghold. There, standing like an immovable force, is Zagan.

Even from a distance, his presence is undeniable. He doesn’t wear a crown, nor does he need one.

A group of soldiers bow deeply before Zagan, their expressions solemn as they deliver their report. He listens in silence, his piercing gaze unwavering, weighing their words with the same scrutiny he would a finely forged blade.

I grip the railing, my heart a turbulent mess of uncertainty.

They respect him. Why? Isn’t he supposed to be a monster?

My gaze shifts back to the walls, then to the sky. Something feels… wrong. The air hums with an unnatural energy, sending a shiver down my spine.

A sharp cry rings out.

“Incoming—!”

A soldier points toward the heavens, and I follow his gaze just in time to see a dark figure streaking toward the fortress. My breath catches. A Celestian.

It descends fast, its massive wings shimmering as they absorb magic from the air. The light around it bends, warping unnaturally. Then, with a piercing screech, it dives toward the wall.

An attack has begun.