I didn't leave the cabin for two days.
The storm had drowned the paths, the forest slick with rain and secrets. Every creak of the wood sounded like footsteps. Every gust of wind brought whispers I couldn't quite translate.
I kept the charm close. Sometimes it felt warm against my skin, pulsing faintly, as though reminding me I wasn't imagining things. Other times it felt heavy, like it was dragging my heartbeat into a rhythm that wasn't mine.
By the second night, I'd memorized every sound the place made — the groan of the rafters, the soft sigh of the fire, the faint scrape of claws across the roof at midnight.
Luca hadn't returned.
But his scent lingered — pine, smoke, a hint of rain. It clung to the air like unfinished business.
---
On the third morning, I couldn't stand the silence anymore.
I needed answers, or maybe I just needed movement. The path outside glistened with puddles, leaves slick underfoot. Mist threaded through the trees, curling around the trunks like smoke from an invisible fire.
I followed the faint trail Luca had taken — his footprints had mostly faded, but the forest remembered him. There was something strange about that realization, as if the world itself kept track of where he went.
The forest was alive in a way that made my skin hum. Birds watched from branches, still and silent. The air carried an electric charge — like a thunderstorm that never quite broke.
After an hour, I reached the river that cut through the woods. Its surface was glassy and too still, reflecting the gray sky in perfect detail. I crouched, dipping my fingers into the water.
It was freezing.
And then—something moved beneath it.
A flicker of silver light, quick and darting.
I jerked my hand back, heart pounding. For a moment I thought I'd imagined it, until ripples spread out across the surface. Then I heard it: faint, melodic, almost human. A whisper, just below the edge of sound.
"Aria."
I stumbled backward, breath caught in my throat.
No one was there.
The forest around me held its breath, and the whisper faded into the hum of insects. But the echo of my name lingered, carried by the river's slow current.
---
When I returned to the cabin, someone was waiting.
Luca leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, eyes darker than I remembered. There was dirt on his shirt and a small cut along his collarbone. He looked tired — but alive.
"You shouldn't wander alone," he said.
"I could say the same to you."
His mouth curved into the faintest smirk. "Touché."
He stepped aside to let me in. "Did anything… happen?"
"Define happen."
"Did you see something strange? Hear anything?"
I hesitated. "Maybe."
His gaze sharpened. "Maybe?"
"Something in the river." I paused. "It said my name."
He froze — and that reaction told me more than any answer could.
"What was it?" I pressed. "Tell me."
He shook his head slowly. "Not yet."
"That's not good enough, Luca."
"I'm not keeping secrets to control you," he said, voice low. "I'm doing it to keep you breathing."
"Then tell me what I am."
He met my eyes. "You already know. You just don't want to believe it."
---
The silence that followed was thick with tension.
I turned away, gripping the edge of the table. "You make it sound like I'm cursed."
"Cursed?" He gave a humorless laugh. "No. Not cursed. Chosen."
The word didn't feel like a comfort. It felt like a warning.
"Chosen for what?"
"For the same reason that thing in the woods won't stop hunting," he said quietly. "Because your blood isn't ordinary."
"My blood," I repeated, disbelief edging into my tone. "You're telling me my blood is the reason creatures are stalking me through the forest?"
He nodded once. "It calls to them. To us."
"To you?"
He didn't flinch. "Yes."
The word hung between us — raw, dangerous, impossible.
I wanted to demand more, but his expression stopped me. His eyes had gone half-wild, amber catching in the firelight, the way an animal's might when cornered between instinct and restraint.
"You're trembling," he said softly.
"I'm angry."
"No." His gaze lowered to my hands — shaking, barely visible. "You're changing."
---
I looked down.
Under the skin of my wrist, faint lines shimmered — silver, like lightning veins. They pulsed with my heartbeat. I stumbled back, nearly knocking over the chair.
"What's happening to me?"
Luca moved toward me, cautious but deliberate. "You're awakening. It's been waiting since the night of the storm."
"I don't—"
"Aria." His tone softened, a command and a comfort at once. "Breathe. Look at me."
I did. And the strangest thing happened: the panic receded, not gone but muted, as if his voice carried a rhythm that steadied my own.
He lifted a hand but didn't touch me — only hovered close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off him. "It's not poison. It's your nature showing itself."
"Nature," I echoed. "You mean—"
"Yes."
The word tasted like revelation and fear.
---
The change faded as quickly as it came, leaving me cold and shaking. Luca helped me into the chair. For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Finally, he said, "It's going to keep happening. The forest will keep calling. The question is whether you answer."
"And if I don't?"
"Then something else will answer for you."
I stared into the fire. "What does that even mean?"
He sighed, rubbing a hand across his jaw. "It means we're not the only ones who can hear the call."
"'We'," I repeated quietly. "So there are others?"
"More than you think. Less than there used to be."
The flames cast shifting shadows across his face, half light, half dark. The contrast suited him — a creature caught between worlds.
---
We spent the rest of the evening in uneasy silence. I could feel his presence across the room — steady, magnetic. Every time I looked up, he was already watching me.
When night finally pressed against the windows, I asked, "Do you ever regret it?"
"Regret what?"
"What you are."
He thought about it. "Every day," he said simply. "And never."
That answer shouldn't have made sense, but it did.
---
Sometime after midnight, thunder rolled again in the distance. I couldn't sleep, so I sat by the window. The forest looked almost beautiful when it wasn't trying to kill me — silver light tracing the edges of leaves, mist floating low across the ground.
Luca joined me without a word, setting a cup of tea beside me. His hand brushed mine — barely — but my pulse jumped anyway.
"You keep saving me," I said.
"Maybe you don't need saving."
"Then what are you doing here?"
He studied me for a long moment, then said quietly, "Maybe I just wanted to see what happens when silver meets sin."