The spring undergrowth engulfed them in its depths, surrounding them in green and yellow; leaves sang a song Leira always was sure to understand better than others. The spring forest was warm—with its delicate breeze, and a touch of grass beneath them.

Spring—a time of rebirth and a change. Fluttering like a butterfly leaving its cocoon; promising new life.

For Leira, it was time stolen from her heavy reality. Her father would never allow her to spend time with a common hunter. To him, Mira was nothing more than a low-born, unworthy forest dweller—and in the eyes of others of noble birth, she was nothing more than a wild child, escaping from the protective embrace of her wealthy life to indulge in the forbidden pleasure of loving a low-born.

How wrong it sounded, how… cruel. It was an unnecessary cruelty. Not even for the two of them, although that was obvious. It was cruel for her, in a very personal way. This protective embrace consisted of empty rooms, numerous ghosts of the past and a once angry, now broken father who couldn’t even think about finding a new love to replace her mother—who decided she didn’t want to fulfill the promise they once exchanged by the goddess’s altar. Love is a sadistic creature—when Sonia chose another man, it tore his soul in two. How would he feel seeing her so happy with someone she truly loved? Maybe that’s why he would banish Mira, so as not to invite love under his roof. So as not to invite something that would drill into his broken soul to the bone, reminding him of his own loss.

But… Leira didn’t want to be a vessel for his absence of love. Since her mother left, he had not allowed himself to treat her with the affection she desired—the affection of a father for his daughter, parental love she was deprived of; she longed for laughter, for joy, and they had become a forbidden pleasure she was tasting in morsels, only to feel the flavor. Something she had to steal in order to feel. She was hungry for love, and when she met Mira, also thirsty for touch. The years spent alone made her even more willing to give herself to her hunter’s love. Forbidden, yes, but made just for her. Not for her father, not for the quiet house she lived in.

For her.

And she was ready to swallow every drop of happiness that fell from that high-hanging fruit.

She pressed her lips to Mira’s. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper inside. The dense and swelling richness of spring around them made her even more passionate—even more rebellious.

He broke the kiss and looked into her eyes.

His eyes, green. Like leaves. Like young life.

“Leira…” Mira had never been overly loud during sex. But her name whispered at the right moment always brought her dangerously close to the edge. It sounded like he celebrated it, and she was hungry for being someone’s feast.

She embraced him, letting him sink between her neck and collarbone, wanting to feel his lips on one of her most sensitive spots. He obeyed, and his kiss sent shivers down her spine.

She wanted to unfurl with pleasure while he kissed her. Far from home, as she wanted to leave her home forever. But now— she wanted to stay here, entwined with Mira, not thinking about her past and her presence, while the future was painted with flaming brushes.

The sun shone through the leaves, caressing her, a counterpoint to his agile fingers.

I want you so much…

His scent was of leather and sweat—mixed together into an aphrodisiac kind of one; a smell of spring day underneath the body of a lover who promised to offer her not only love. Safety. Change. And escape.

The sun. It fed her with its rays, making her heart grow in his ribcage.

The quiet rustle of leaves.

The warmth of the day and his hot body pressed against her skin.

She pushed him harder with her heels, drawing him so deep that it ached.

And suddenly… a gust of cold wind.

Which lifted the hair on her forearms.

His thrust was exceptionally strong—she climaxed with a silent groan, her body closing over him, like it wanted not only to keep him within her, but to possess him. Her eyes opened in ecstasy, but something crept into surroundings, something unwanted.

He must have sensed something because he looked up and gazed into her irises with clear concern.

“Leira…? Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

“No… I just…”

She felt winter, with its icy fingers and cold hems. Winter amid the spring greenery. It was not the season she wanted to feel right now.

She felt guilty; Mira felt nothing. Were her worries really so deep that they caused mirages?

Mira kissed her, but she couldn’t respond with the same fire. He pulled away.

“If something is wrong, tell me,” he sat down next to her, his hand reaching to bury in her hair; withdrawing mid-move. He was confused but trying to turn it into a joke. “I hope I’m not that bad a lover.”

‘Do you feel it?”

“Feel? Should I feel something more than you?”

“I feel… cold.”

He looked at her with visible concern… and a slight amount of disbelief. He really could believe that she didn’t like it. Which was far from truth. But…

… winter was creeping in slowly, uninvited. Mira looked around confused. Now he felt it too.

The cold air danced around them, embraced her soul, squeezed the fear out of her. Unnatural, as it was only a gust of wind—yet bringing promise of something much colder than ice and snow.

When her eyes were piercing the thicket in front of her, she saw leaves falling from the trees, dry and dead, like plucked by late autumnal hands. Curled and frozen, touched by the element that she thought she left behind in her loveless home.

And then she saw them.

At first, her mind could not comprehend it. Her heart fluttered at the sight, trying to latch to anything but to not be forced to accept it. She felt a strong surge of love… and even stronger fear. Her mind was lost for a moment in a mixture of adoration and the need to escape, away from them, away from their shining wonder.

Pointy, sharp ears, like in old tales, told by fires, to keep children away from the woods. Five men and a woman, beautiful, so beautiful, born from a dream… but one ready to turn into a nightmare in any moment.

They were sitting on animals that only vaguely resembled horses. She couldn’t understand it because they looked like horses. But… they only looked like them. They weren’t.

The woman with a bird mask on her face focused on her and Mira intensely—until she finally sneered.

“Lovers. How sweet.”

However, Leira’s eyes were not on her. A man was sitting horseback next to her. He was wearing a black vest with a wide belt, tight black trousers and high boots—feathers adorned his shoulders. His black cape pooled down, his temples circled by the iron spine-shaped crown. He was looking at her attentively, which wasn’t natural. He was smiling, radiantly, but his gaze… his eyes were completely black, a void filled with stars and moons, lost in the emptiness of the night sky. This man… he looked like someone who loves the pain of others. Who is used to command and take everything, mercilessly. A man who can become a horror just as he can become a bliss.

Leira quickly pulled down her skirt, afraid they would see her bare.

“Don’t laugh at lovers, my cruel raven,” the man in black continued to look at Leira intently. “Seeing them reminds me of the possibilities of… attachment.”

His voice was deep, quiet, a pleasure for ears. Sultry, soft and sensual. But something under it, like death. Like he cut her in slices, caressing her body at the same time.

“Your Majesty… The Wild Hunt awaits us,” one of the men said that with reverence bordering on submission.

“I am the Wild Hunt,” the black-eyed man’s tone left no room for objection.

He kicked the horse with his heels and it began to approach them. Leira backed away, quickly, wanting to get as far away from him as possible.

Mira drew his knife, ready to defend her.

No.

Please.

“Don’t come any closer,” Mira said through clenched teeth, but his hand holding the knife trembled–almost invisibly, but it did..

Of course, they noticed that too. Something in Leira expected for them to love this reaction of a frightened hunter, confronted with something he didn’t understand.

The old tales were painting faeries, sprites and magical folk as hungry, moody creatures, who may as well play a prank, as they can kill—not even provoked. The same tales spoke of humans who wandered the mushroom circles to return with grayed hair and tangled minds.

But even those tales weren’t preparing for the waves of love and terror Leira was witnessing now, crashing against her soul.

The man’s smile became wider. Lovely and charming, pure seduction. The scent of violets reached her. Her favourite flowers.

He ignored Mira’s pose; her beloved was ready to attack or defend. The horse-like creature between the man’s legs looked Leira straight in the eye. Its red pupils, like pools of blood. A bone spine in place of a mane.

“I won’t warn you twice” she could hear it in Mira’s voice, a deep, gut-wrenching, hope-destroying panic.

“Oh, how… brave. Is that what you’ll do? Kill me, send me to my gods? Rip my entrails out with that knife?”

“Yes…”

‘Interesting!’

His horse pranced restlessly. It was waiting for something, like it was hungry for a spectacle that would follow.

Something was looming behind the black-eyed man. Something dark, something that had its roots in the first night. Shadows—thick and black, reaching forth with tentacle-like threads, swirling in the winter chill. Cold and hot at the same.

Just like the man in black. He was hungry in this unapologetic way—everything was his and for him to take. Leira’s skin crept from looking at him. Not only because he was not a human —and belonged to legends and old tales, wiped long ago from the experience of humankind. But because he knew how to get what he wants, always.

It could be felt.

It could be sensed.

Slowly, very slowly, the shadows began to swirl around her lover, caressing his skin with gentle strokes; his confused expression reminded her of her father when her mother told him she was leaving. The shadows slid over his limbs, binding his arms and legs in a tight grip.

And just as slowly, they entered his skin, filling him up.

Mira’s eyes opened wide. So wide. A groan escaped his lips. Painful and not painful at the same time. He curled in himself, Leira could see that a vein on his occiput pulsing wildly.

“Humans are made for pain… and pleasure,” beautiful, cruel words. “Both are equally carnal to them. And both can be their downfall.”

Mira groaned again, louder this time. Leira noticed sweat on his temples. There was something in him, some frightening force… which made him feel things that terrified Leira.

She felt her limbs weakening. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Her whole being was screaming against it. She could still feel him inside her, the way he loved her. And now…

The man’s smile was predatory and Leira felt it in her bones… a hopeless fear blossoming inside her.

Run.

Now.

But Leira knew they wouldn’t let her escape.

Mira didn’t scream, but his body was suffering, as was Leira. His skin tensed, slowly revealing blackening, bulging veins. Leira could see them growing, and the blackness spreading under his skin.

The man in black leaned forward, tilting his head curiously. Mira’s skin began to stretch. His whole body changed shape, like a clay doll. The sound of his bones shifting was deafening to Leira. The sound of a world falling apart. His eyes popped out of their sockets and his skin bubbled like boiling water.

He just screamed excruciatingly and fell to his knees; it looked like he was boiling or melting from the inside. Leira had to do something. Anything! Her mind was racing, but her actions were faster than her thoughts.

She decided to do something stupid. So stupid. Reckless. But she couldn’t stand to see him in agony. He loved her and offered her something no one else in her life had.

She slowly approached the man on the horse, trying to not fall to her fear, not allow panic to creep too deep. Trying not to think about what might happen. Trying to find a spark inside her that would allow her not to run away.

That was never an option.

The man lazily shifted his gaze from the tormented Mira to her, his smile ever-present, as if he knew something that was hidden from everyone else. Leira felt herself losing control of her body, feeling only the power, the sheer force of her will, pulling and guiding her forward like strings attached to her arms and legs.

“Please. No,”’ her eyes rose. Bravely. Without a doubt. They met his black emptiness which reflected just as hollow stars “I’ll do anything, just stop.”

A smile still danced on his face, but only for a small, insignificant second. His lips formed an expression that sent even colder shivers down her spine.

No matter what she did, they would be dead.

“So this is what humans do now,” he remarked, his tone laced with irony. “They sacrifice themselves.’ You feel so deeply for him. So intensely. Devotion. A truly admirable act.”

Humans.

And they weren’t humans.

Creatures from old stories, pointed ears, painful beauty, fairy tales, scary stories by the fire.

“And so promising.”

Mira’s body bent unnaturally, his eyes turning black—not in the starlit way his tormentor’s eyes were. They were wells of pure unadulterated pain..

“No!” Dry, unshed tears welled up in Leira’s eyes, threatening to break the dam. She didn’t want to show them that they were able to make her cry, even if they knew she was doing it, deep in her soul, deep in her heart. If she showed it… it would be the end.

It happened so quickly… like a spring storm rushing over fertile fields, flooding them with destructive rain.

She knew it would be the end of her free will. They knew it too. Tempting love invaded her mind, mixed with fear… a sick and terrifying mixture of contradictions.

“But the sacrifice would not be complete without the delightful hopelessness” a single shadow danced around her, caressing her face, to which she responded with a movement of her head; the shadow followed her persistently. “He can suffer like this for months… but I can spare him. More! I can restore him to a perfectly acceptable shape” The inhuman glow in his eyes sucked her soul away, taking her to the underworld, among the dead. “I can give him back to you. But you must also offer me something. I want to see how much you are willing to give of yourself for the one you love.”

Leira did not want to understand the meaning behind his words. Her soul immediately rejected it. But her heart was beating faster than ever because she knew what he meant. The birds singing, the spring greenery and the light breeze around them suddenly became black and dull, devoid of colour.

The others, the woman and the four men who had come with her tormentor, looked at her with charming smiles, as if they were watching a family scene. She felt sick.