The moment Elara's hand touched his, the air around them shifted. The forest held its breath, and time itself seemed to pause.
A pale green glow shimmered where their hands met, crawling slowly up her wrist like ivy.
"What is this?" she whispered.
"It's the bond," the man replied. "The pact we've made... it marks your soul."
His hand was warm—too warm. Elara felt something stir inside her, like a memory she never had.
"Who are you, really?" she asked.
He hesitated. Then:
"Call me Kael."
The name resonated in the clearing, like an echo through ancient trees. The wind picked up suddenly, leaves spinning into the air around them.
A distant howl pierced the night.
Elara tensed. "That sounded close."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "They've sensed the pact. We need to move."
"Who are 'they'?"
"Hunters," he said darkly. "And they do not forgive magic."
He turned, pulling his hood over his face. "Come. I'll explain as we run."
They darted into the woods, the pact glowing faintly on Elara's skin, lighting their path between roots and shadows.
Somewhere behind them, something snarled.
The hunt had begun.