By the fourth day, Kael could walk again. He left her shack before dawn, promising he would return. Aradia wasn't sure if it was a threat or a vow.
But the village had noticed.
When she went to fetch water, silence fell around her. The butcher's wife spat at her feet. The blacksmith muttered about "demonic men" seen entering her home.
By nightfall, the whispers had grown teeth.
"Laying with the beast."
"She'll bring ruin on us all."
"Burn the witch."
Aradia gritted her teeth, forcing herself not to tremble. She had done nothing. She had never asked for Kael. Yet now her isolation deepened, the hatred sharper than ever.
And in the shadows of the village square, another set of eyes watched her.
A man, tall and handsome, with hair the color of copper fire. His gaze lingered on her too long, his lips curving in something between desire and calculation.
He would return. And he would not come as a friend.