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Natalie's return was far from triumphant.
She emerged from the swirling portal at the far corner of her dimly lit living room, each step heavy and uneven. Her once immaculate black dress was torn at the hem, dirt smeared across the fabric, and faint traces of dried blood dotted her sleeves. A dull bruise had already begun to form along her jawline, another on her temple. Her lips were pressed in a thin line, refusing to betray any sound of pain, but the slow, deliberate way she moved said enough—her journey to the realm of witches had not been kind.
In her hands, she clutched a long, narrow wooden box, sealed with ancient runes. The faint, eerie glow of those markings pulsed like a heartbeat, a sign that whatever lay inside held power—dangerous, coveted power.
She set the box down on her desk with more care than her battered state suggested she could manage. The room smelled faintly of smoke from the fireplace, though the fire had long burned low, leaving only dying embers.
Natalie didn't even have the strength to take a seat before a presence made itself known. Shadows at the far end of the room thickened, curling inward as if folding space itself. The air turned colder, pressing against her skin.
Lord Vaelthor stepped out of the darkness.
Tall, imposing, and radiating an aura that seemed to bend the very air around him, he regarded her in silence for a long moment. His gaze, dark and unnervingly steady, fell on the wooden box first—but then flicked toward her face, her split lip, the smear of dried blood beneath her chin.
"You have it," he said finally, his voice a low, rumbling blend of power and calm.
Natalie nodded once, pushing the box toward him across the desk. "Just like you asked."
He stepped closer, the sound of his boots echoing in the otherwise quiet room. As he took the box from her, his eyes returned to the bruises mottling her skin. For a moment, the tension in his expression shifted—barely—but enough for her to notice.
"You're injured," Vaelthor said, his tone unreadable. "Sit. I will heal you."
"No." Natalie's answer was immediate, clipped. She turned away from him, moving toward her bedroom. "It's nothing."
Vaelthor's gaze lingered on her retreating form, his jaw tightening slightly. She had never refused his offer to heal her before. Something in her manner tonight felt… distant. Off.
Once she disappeared behind the closed bedroom door, Vaelthor turned his attention to the box. He undid the rune seals with ease, ancient symbols dissipating like mist under his touch.
Inside lay a single gemstone—deep crimson in color, cut into an intricate teardrop shape. It shimmered faintly in the dim light, but the glow was uneven, weaker than it should have been.
Vaelthor's brow furrowed. His eyes hardened. "This is not…" he murmured, almost to himself.
With a sharp flick of his wrist, he hurled the gemstone across the room. It struck the far wall with a metallic clang before clattering to the floor, rolling to a stop under a chair. The sound was loud enough to pull Natalie from her room.
She reappeared in the doorway, her hair now unbound and falling loosely over her shoulders, wearing a fresh tunic but still looking worn. "What was that?" she asked, her eyes narrowing on the discarded gem. "Isn't that what you wanted?"
Vaelthor didn't answer immediately. Instead, in two strides, he closed the distance between them, caught her wrist, and guided her toward the sofa with a firm but not harsh grip.
"Sit," he commanded.
Natalie blinked but didn't resist, though her brow furrowed. "I said—"
"Sit." This time his tone left no room for argument.
She exhaled sharply, settling on the edge of the sofa as Vaelthor knelt before her, his hands hovering over the bruises on her arms. A faint pulse of cold energy began to seep into her skin, easing the ache.
"I thought you didn't care," Natalie said quietly, watching his face for a reaction.
Vaelthor remained silent, his gaze fixed on his work. His expression was unreadable, though a shadow of something—displeasure? frustration?—rested in the set of his jaw.
She tilted her head slightly, studying him. "You're angry."
Finally, he looked up at her, his eyes locking with hers. "The item I asked for was the golden gem. What you brought me… is a fake."
Natalie's shoulders sank as she let out a humorless laugh. "So all those bruises were for nothing."
"Not nothing," he said, his voice dipping lower, colder. "But another thing is making me angry."
Her eyes narrowed. "And what's that?"
Vaelthor leaned back slightly, his gaze hardening. "Kael. For the first time in centuries, he is crossing boundaries he has never dared touch before. He is too close to my belonging, and I do not like that."
Natalie arched a brow. "Your belonging? You mean Harper."
His silence was answer enough.
She shrugged, the movement causing a flicker of pain that his healing energy quickly dulled. "Kael's always been that way—obsessing over her. What do you expect me to do about it? Honestly, I'd rather she was with him."
That made him pause. He stopped the flow of healing energy and gave her a sharp, questioning look.
"Yes," Natalie said, holding his gaze. "I want you to stay away from Harper. She's trouble, Vaelthor. The kind of trouble that gets even someone like you burned."
"Did you see something?". Vaelthor asked knowingly. He knew Natalie was saying this probably because of something she had seen at the realm of witches.
"I went to meet the superior witch. She told me Harper was trouble for you ".
"I like trouble," he replied, his tone calm but edged. "And no one can convince me to stay away."
He stood, his shadow falling over her as he paced once toward the window. "Kael has taken her to the realm of Timekeepers. They are looking for Lord Zareth." His voice darkened further. "If they find him before my power is fully restored, I will not be able to defeat them."
Natalie frowned. "And if you do get your powers back… will you leave her alone?"
Vaelthor's eyes remained fixed on the darkness beyond the glass. "…I don't know."
For the first time in the conversation, uncertainty touched his voice.
"You don't know? What do you need her for again?".
"You're asking way too many questions Natalie".
"What about us and.....". Natalie couldn't complete her statement when his expression changed.
"Don't.even.think about it".
Natalie studied him, her mind turning. "Then how can I help you?"
He turned back to her, meeting her gaze. "Find the real golden gem."
She gave a short nod. "Then I'll try. Definitely."