Selene woke to the sound of dripping water. Slow, steady drops echoed through the space around her, mingling with the faint crackle of fire. For a moment, she thought she was still caught in Nyx's dream, trapped between light and shadow. But when she tried to move, pain lanced through her limbs, real and heavy.
Her body ached as though she had been broken and remade. The memory of the fire—those burning runes searing into her flesh—flashed through her mind. She gasped, hand flying to her arm. The marks were still there, faintly glowing silver, etched into her skin like living tattoos.
"You're awake."
The low, gravelly voice came from nearby. Selene turned her head, wincing, and saw Darius crouched by a small fire, feeding it with careful movements. The flames threw shadows across his scarred face, highlighting the sharpness of his features.
"Where… where are we?" Her voice cracked, dry from thirst.
"A cave. Hidden from the patrols. They won't find you here." He didn't look at her as he spoke, his attention fixed on the flames.
Selene struggled to sit up. The stone beneath her was rough, softened only by a threadbare blanket he must have placed there. The cave walls were slick with moisture, the ceiling low, the air cool. It was no palace, no packhouse… but it was shelter.
Her throat burned. "Water?"
Without a word, Darius reached for a small skin beside him and tossed it to her. Selene fumbled, catching it awkwardly before pressing it to her lips. The water was lukewarm but felt like salvation as it slid down her parched throat.
When she finally lowered it, her hands trembled so badly she nearly dropped it. Darius's eyes flicked toward her, assessing, then back to the fire.
"You were burning for hours," he said. "I thought you wouldn't survive it."
Selene swallowed hard. The memory of her screams still echoed in her mind. "I thought I wouldn't either."
For a long moment, only the fire spoke between them.
Finally, Selene whispered, "Why did you help me?"
Darius leaned back against the stone wall, his broad shoulders casting a long shadow. "Because I don't enjoy watching people die for no reason."
She frowned. "That's not true. You've killed before."
His gaze snapped to her, sharp and dangerous. For a moment, she thought she had gone too far. But instead of snapping, he smirked, though there was no humor in it.
"Yes," he admitted, voice low. "But not like that. Not when it's… fate carving into your flesh."
Selene shivered. The silver runes on her skin pulsed faintly, as though responding to his words. She pulled the blanket tighter around herself.
"I don't want this," she whispered. "I never asked to be chosen."
"No one asks," Darius replied flatly. "You either endure it or you break."
His words were harsh, but there was something in his tone—something weary, almost hollow. Selene studied him in the firelight. The scar that cut across his cheek, the shadows in his eyes, the way he carried himself like a man who had seen too much and trusted too little.
"You've endured it," she said softly.
Darius stilled. His jaw tightened, but he didn't deny it.
Selene looked away, her gaze dropping to the faint glow of the runes across her arms. They were beautiful in a way—delicate patterns that seemed alive, shifting faintly under her skin. But to her, they felt like shackles. Proof that she no longer belonged to herself.
The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Finally, she whispered, "If anyone sees these… they'll know."
"They'll fear you," Darius corrected. "Fear can be a weapon. If you're willing to use it."
Selene shook her head, clutching the blanket tighter. "I don't want to be feared. I just… I just wanted to belong." Her voice cracked, the weight of rejection pressing down on her chest again.
Darius's gaze lingered on her, unreadable. Then, to her surprise, he said, "Wanting to belong isn't weakness. But it is dangerous. People like Lucian—your father, your rival—they'll use it against you. Again and again."
Hearing Lucian's name was like reopening a wound. The memory of his cold eyes, his voice rejecting her in front of everyone, twisted inside her like a knife. Selene turned away, fighting the tears burning in her eyes.
Darius didn't move closer, but his voice dropped lower, softer. "Stop letting them own your pain. It's yours. No one else's."
The words struck her, sharp and true. She pressed a hand over her glowing marks, feeling the heat of them against her skin.
The fire crackled. Outside, distant wolves howled, their calls echoing faintly through the night. Selene's wolf stirred within her chest, restless, uncertain.
She glanced at Darius again, hesitating. "Why are you really helping me? You could have left me to die. No one would know."
His gaze met hers, unflinching. "Because I know what it's like to be hunted by fate. To have everything you were ripped away." His eyes flickered with something pain, maybe anger, maybe both. "I won't let it claim you. Not yet."
The cave seemed smaller suddenly, the air thicker. Selene's heart beat faster, though she told herself it was just the remnants of her ordeal.
She wanted to ask more, to pry into his past, but his expression shut her out. He had given her enough, more than she expected.
Instead, she whispered, "Thank you."
Darius gave no reply, but for the first time, his gaze softened slightly, the hardness in his scarred features easing.
Selene lay back against the stone, exhaustion pulling at her. The runes still glowed, but dimmer now, like embers instead of fire. Her body ached, but the worst had passed.
As her eyes drifted shut, she felt the faintest trace of safety in this hidden den. Not comfort, not belonging—but safety, fragile and forbidden.
Her last thought before sleep claimed her was of Darius—his scarred face lit by firelight, his voice steady in her storm. A stranger, a rogue, and yet the only one who hadn't turned away.
For the first time since her rejection, Selene allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't entirely alone.