The pale white horse arrived at the forest's edge—a moment of silence and still.
Brittany slid down from the saddle with barely a sound–without a word.
Boots pressed softly into the moss-draped earth.
Her cloak swayed with her steps, black against the dry mist curling at ground level.
She ventured into the forest. She didn't hesitate, She didn't look back, simply walked forward, straight– into the cacophony of trees.
A light wind stirred the upper branches, lifting the leaves.
The trunks here were huge, broad, and bowed, ancient in posture, and the deeper she walked, the more they leaned—like they were listening.
She drifted between them.
Her hazel eyes, usually warm with light, now flickered glassy and distant, like a flame on the verge of going out.
Her silver braid shimmered faintly beneath her hood, swaying with each step.
Likewise, her boots pressed softly into the bed of moss and dry leaves—each step slow, absent, almost weightless.
Somewhere behind her, her horse exhaled and trotted.
She couldn't hear, she didn't notice– her mind, sensory, lost in a labyrinth of thoughts.
It wasn't until the sun fully slipped behind cloud cover that she paused.
As the path narrowed and light thinned, the air shifted. Thicker. Still.
The temperature dropped—but not in a way that made skin prickle.
It was the kind of cold that settled inside you.
The forest curved into unnatural silence.
There was no clear path any more.
Only strange root formations and veined leaves shifting in hues not native to any map.
The forbidden section of Whispering Woods were forbidden for a reason, though no reason had ever been spoken– out loud.
"Why was she here?" Her now-clear mind seemed to question her, after realizing she'd strayed into the forbidden woods.
The air thickened the farther in she wandered.
What little wind remained turned cool and damp, and the usual sounds of forest life—birds, insects, distant rustling—had all but disappeared?
Then… acrunch.
From the shadows– movement.
She turned slowly.
A blur in the branches.
She stepped back, hand grazing the hilt of her sword.
A second sound—then another. Feet on dry leaves. Several sets.
She shifted in a slow circle.
When the creatures emerged, they did so in pairs—crawling from behind gnarled roots and from behind the twisted trees.
Misshapen. Loping. Bodies warped somewhere between human and animal—bony limbs too long, heads tilted unnaturally.
Eyes black, hollow as midnight.
A substance dripped from their claws, sizzling slightly as it hit the moss.
Brittany exhaled through her nose– slow and shallow.
They said nothing.
Only circled her like vultures that had already decided she was a corpse.
Brittany didn't move.
Her cloak shifted in the gloom.
Her hand closed tightly around the hilt.
Like she hadn't decided yet whether she deserved to defend herself.
~In the Castle.
She froze at the sound of her name—soft, almost uncertain. The fingers on her shoulder were firm but not forceful.
Her heart lurched.
That wasn't Richard.
She turned—
And met Zeres' puzzled eyes.
Zeres stepped toward her with easy grace. "Is something the matter, Princess Dora?"
His voice carried gently across the vast, vaulted chamber.
It was the only sound above the rustle of distant silks and the soft trickle of water from a central marble fountain.
Moments earlier, Zeres had been sitting beside his father in the royal conference room—a crystalline chamber overlooking the southern gardens.
He'd grown bored by their political talk of trade routes and wedding dates. He excused himself to find his soon-to-be bride.
He was strolling along the hall. The air smelled faintly of honeysuckle and parchment.
Too sudden– a strange gust passed through the hallway and tugged at something familiar in him—not magic, not a sixth sense, a presence— a presence he knew too well.
He followed.
And now here she was, nearly vibrating with fury in a corridor lit like a cathedral.
"Dora?" He called again.
Dora was his blood mate, funny because she'd kicked his ass countless times when they were younger, rejecting the probability of being his blood mate.
"I'm fine," Dora said quickly, too quickly.
Zeres didn't move. "You don't look fine."
"I—uh… was just—" She winced at herself, her fist trembled slightly.
Confusion and concern danced in his eyes.
Zeres took a step closer, he held her hands. "Are you sure you are alright?" his ocean blue eyes met her forest green ain's
He waited.
Not challenging her. Just there.
"I'm fine," she said after a while, then added—softer—"Really."
Dora exhaled, cheeks flushing, and glanced away.
His next smile was softer. "Better"
"… Yes." Dora's voice was quieter now. Her shoulders dropped, and for a moment, she remembered how to breathe. "Thank you."
Zeres tilted his head. "Good."
He allowed a beat of silence, then added with a twitch of a smirk: "Princesses don't run in dresses. Especially not vampires. It's terribly undignified."
Dora rebutted almost immediately, "I didn't run! I know better than to risk my dignity"
Zeres glanced at the marble floor of the corridor. "Your shoes disagree."
Dora's dress, deep garnet satin with a high slit, had snagged on her boot heel during her sprint.
She tugged it into place with barely concealed embarrassment.
Dora scoffed, but a smile threatened the corner of her mouth. "And what, pray tell, brings you skulking through my corridor, my prince?"
He leaned slightly closer.
"Can I not visit my only mate and soon-to-be bride?" he murmured, reaching up to gently tuck a loose strand of her dark hair behind her ear.
"And future queen?"
The heat in Dora's cheeks flared at once. Her hands instinctively curled around the folds of her gown.
Zeres offered his arm. "Walk with me, princess Dora. I've had enough of scrolls and politics. Come. Let's take a breath before your scowl cracks the palace columns."
She hesitated—then placed her hand in his with a shy smile.
"Gladly."
From behind a towering column, Richard peeking around the edge, gave a groan loud enough for no one to hear, and turned back down the corridor in the opposite direction.