The next night, Elena stood beneath the oak again, her resolve hardened despite the unease that gnawed at her. Julian had insisted on meeting, his concern for her safety mingling with the unfinished conversation from the night before. The moon hung low, its silver light casting long shadows that danced with the rustling leaves. She clutched a small bouquet of moonflowers, their fragrance a fragile shield against the anxiety coiling in her chest.
Julian arrived, his expression a mix of determination and worry. "I couldn't leave it like that," he said, taking her hands. "Whoever was out there last night—we need to figure this out."
Elena nodded, her throat tight. His touch steadied her, and under the moon's watchful gaze, the air thickened with unspoken emotions. She felt the pull of his presence, his steady gaze drawing her closer despite the warnings echoing in her mind. His hand tightened around hers, a silent reassurance that bolstered her trembling resolve.
"I want to try," she said softly, meeting his eyes. "To trust you."
His smile was tender, and he leaned in, his breath warm against her skin. Their lips met in a vow that felt ancient yet new—a promise woven into the night itself. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, a question asked and answered. Then it deepened, a hunger that surprised them both, fueled by the months of solitude and the sudden connection they'd found. For a moment, the world fell away, leaving only the two of them and the silver light that bathed them.
But as they parted, a rustle in the trees broke the spell. Elena's eyes darted toward the sound, her heart sinking. A shadow moved beyond the oak, too deliberate to be the wind. Julian followed her gaze, his expression shifting to one of concern.
"Who's there?" he called, his voice cutting through the night.
The figure didn't answer, slipping deeper into the darkness. Elena's chest tightened—had her past finally caught up with her? The whisper she'd heard days ago echoed in her mind, a name she'd buried: Marcus. Her ex-fiancé, the man who'd shattered her trust and driven her to Lunaris. Could he have found her?
"We need to leave," she said, her voice urgent. But before they could move, a letter fluttered to the ground at their feet, its edges worn as if carried by the wind. Julian picked it up, his brow furrowing as he read aloud: "Elena, we need to talk. I'm closer than you think."
Her blood ran cold. The past had arrived, and with it, a threat she couldn't ignore.