The two of them had maintained their marriage in secrecy—a truth not yet widely known. Their forest home, seemingly an ordinary woodland cottage from the outside, had been deliberately chosen for its isolation. Many still believed Emberlyn was single, given her commanding presence and fame. Surely a hunter like her deserved a partner equally exceptional.
The people of Eldervale had created their own myths about their beloved hunter—rumors of romance with wealthy merchants or fellow hunters with skills to match her own. Little did they know that she returned each night to a chef whose only magic lay in transforming simple ingredients into expressions of love.
Ethan himself hesitated to reveal their secret. As he stared out the window at Greenhaven Forest that sheltered them, he acknowledged the insecurities that occasionally plagued him. He, a simple chef, felt he could never match the image projected by Emberlyn. He feared that unveiling the truth to the world would invite ridicule or disbelief. After all, who would believe that he—neither wealthy nor remarkable—could be the partner of such a legendary figure?
He ran his fingers through his hair, remembering how tenderly she had touched those same strands this morning, how genuinely she had marveled at his cooking—as though his carefully crafted omelets were more impressive than her ability to track beasts that eluded all other hunters.
Emberlyn, too, kept her husband's identity hidden, not for fame or pride, but to shield him from the shadows cast by her own bright light. Just last month, a massive dire wolf had nearly destroyed half the livestock in Eldervale's southern farms before she hunted it down. Despite the adoration she received, there were also those who envied her.
The thought made Ethan's hands tremble slightly as he washed their breakfast dishes, the water's warmth a pale imitation of his wife's touch. She understood that with fame and skill came dangers that could threaten their lives. Thus, she chose to keep their relationship a secret—to protect Ethan from the risks that might arise.
"Your rivals would target what you love most," he remembered her explaining after they'd decided to marry, her fingers tracing the lines of his palm as though memorizing every detail. "And I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you because of who I am."
Worried that he could become a target of slander or harm, Emberlyn was determined to safeguard her husband's private life. After each hunt, she took winding routes home, sometimes traversing streams to mask her scent and ensure no one tracked her to their sanctuary. Ethan's well-being and safety mattered more to her than recognition or public acclaim.
The world might never know that the legendary Emberlyn Scarlet's favorite breakfast was his lemon-thyme oatmeal with fresh berries, or that she snored softly on particularly cold nights, or that her most treasured possession wasn't the ceremonial hunting knife from the Eldervale Guild, but the hand-carved wooden spoon he'd given her on their first anniversary.
Through every choice she made, Emberlyn Scarlet proved that her love and care for her husband outweighed everything else—even if it meant sacrificing part of her identity to preserve their shared happiness.
As Ethan finished tidying their kitchen, he glanced at the small garden visible through their window—the herbs he cultivated with care, the flowers that added color to their meals. Like their love, these things grew quietly, away from the world's eye, but were no less magnificent for their privacy.
He touched the wedding band that hung on a chain beneath his shirt—another necessary secret—and smiled. Let the world have Emberlyn Scarlet, legendary hunter of Eldervale. He had the privilege of loving the woman beneath the legend, who still reached for him in her sleep and marveled at his cooking as though it were as miraculous as her tracking skills in Greenhaven Forest.
Ethan sat waiting for his wife's return until late into the night. Usually, Emberlyn would be home by 7 PM. But tonight… for some reason, she was late.
The hours crawled by with excruciating slowness. Six o'clock came and went, the golden evening light fading from their forest home. Seven o'clock—her usual return time—passed without the familiar sound of her boots on the porch steps. By eight, Ethan had reheated dinner twice, the savory aroma of grilled chicken with mashed potatoes and green beans now faded to a ghost of itself. Nine o'clock brought the first tendrils of worry, unfurling in his chest like smoke.
On the sofa, his eyes fixated on the door, filled with longing as he waited for Emberlyn. He sat perfectly still, as if his immobility might somehow coax the universe into delivering her safely home. The logs in their fireplace crackled and shifted, sending unpredictable shadows dancing across the walls—shadows that repeatedly tricked his anxious mind into seeing movement at the periphery of his vision. Each time, his heart leapt, only to crash again when no fiery-haired hunter appeared.
Yet the exhaustion from doing chores throughout the day made his eyelids heavier and heavier. He had spent hours chopping firewood, tending to their garden, and preparing a special dinner to celebrate the third anniversary of their first date. The physical labor, combined with the emotional strain of growing concern, weighed on him like a physical burden.
Slowly, the chill of the night wrapped around his body, seeping through the windows despite the fire's valiant efforts. The blanket he had draped over his legs did little to ward off the deeper cold of fear that had begun to settle in his bones. And Ethan eventually drifted off to sleep until the next morning, his dreams filled with fragmented images of Emberlyn surrounded by the dangers of Greenhaven Forest that, for once, she could not evade.
With sunlight pouring into the room, Ethan awoke from his slumber. For a moment, disoriented by sleep, he forgot the anxiety of the previous night. Then reality crashed over him like ice water. He bolted upright, his neck stiff from the awkward position on the sofa, the blanket falling to the floor.
He stretched and looked around the house, searching for his wife's presence. "Emberlyn?" he called, his voice cracking with sleep and apprehension.
He looked for Emberlyn amidst the stillness of the calm morning. The house seemed to hold its breath, unnaturally quiet without her vibrant energy filling its spaces. There were no light footsteps, no signs of Emberlyn. No humming from the bathroom, no clink of a teacup against the counter, no scent of her favorite jasmine perfume lingering in the air.
The sofa he had slept on the night before was empty. The imprint of his body remained in the cushions, but there was no indication that anyone else had been there. Fragments of last night's memories crept back into his mind—he had been so tired that he'd fallen asleep before he could welcome Emberlyn home. Had she returned after he dozed off? Had she seen him sleeping and decided not to wake him?
His heartbeat quickened as hope momentarily flared. Perhaps she had come home very late and left again before dawn—not unprecedented when the forests around Eldervale faced ongoing threats.
Ethan got up and walked toward their bedroom, full of hope that she might be there. Perhaps she was simply sleeping in, exhausted from whatever hunt had kept her away so long. His footsteps echoed through the hallway, each one seeming to amplify the silence rather than break it.
The bedroom door creaked open slowly, the familiar sound now ominous in the quiet house. But his eyes were met only with emptiness. The bed remained perfectly made, exactly as he had left it yesterday morning, the floral quilt smooth and undisturbed. Emberlyn's nightgown still hung on the hook behind the door, untouched.
Unease growing, he continued searching every corner of the house, his movements becoming more frantic with each empty room. The bathroom—vacant. The spare bedroom—undisturbed. The kitchen—exactly as he had left it, with last night's dinner now sitting cold on the counter, a sad reminder of expectations unfulfilled.
But still found no sign of her. No note left on the refrigerator, no message scrawled on the bathroom mirror in the steam-writing they sometimes used to communicate. Nothing to indicate she had been home at all.
He stepped outside, wandering through the surroundings, the morning dew soaking through his socks as he forgot to put on shoes in his distress. He scanned the treeline of Greenhaven Forest, searching for any flash of crimson among the greens and browns.
But his steps were accompanied only by a silence that grew louder with every moment. Even the birds seemed quieter today, as if sharing his concern.
"Emberlyn!" His voice rang out through the trees, startling a pair of sparrows into flight. He listened intently for any response, but heard only the echo of his own desperate call fading among the leaves.
Disappointment began to seep into Ethan's heart as he realized Emberlyn was nowhere to be found. The calm certainty that normally characterized his demeanor crumbled, replaced by a rising tide of fear. This was unprecedented—in two years of marriage, she had never failed to return without sending word somehow.
Every second without her presence felt like an eternity, the morning stretching into an unending expanse of worry. And anxiety wrapped tightly around him, constricting his chest until each breath became a conscious effort.
In his growing worry, he continued his search, hoping desperately for a clue about his missing wife's whereabouts. He circled their property, scanning the ground for footprints, broken branches—anything that might indicate her path. His chef's hands, so dexterous with kitchen knives and delicate garnishes, now trembled as he pushed aside bushes and peered behind trees.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, painting dappled patterns through the forest canopy, Ethan was forced to confront the truth that had been building since he awoke: Something was terribly wrong. Emberlyn Scarlet, master hunter and protector of Eldervale, had vanished like mist in the wind. And he—the secret husband whose very existence was hidden from the world—had no idea where to even begin looking for her.