Part I: Elena
The first thing I saw was blood.
It streaked across the snow in thick, jagged lines, glistening beneath the moonlight like a trail left
by something feral, something dying. The kind of blood that didn't come from scraped knees or
shallow wounds. This was deeper. Slower. Intentional.
It soaked into the ground in uneven pools, staining the otherwise perfect whiteness, painting a
picture of violence in the untouched wild.
And still—the forest was silent.
Too silent.
No rustle of branches. No distant cry of wolves. Just the whisper of my own breath, coming out
in frantic puffs. Even the trees looked frozen in anticipation, leaning in, as if listening.
I shouldn't have stopped.
I shouldn't have followed the trail.
But I did.
Maybe it was the scent—iron, thick and clinging. Or maybe it was something else. Something
deeper. A pull I couldn't name.
A wrongness.
I stepped carefully, boots crunching softly beneath me, until I saw him.Or… what was left of him.
He was slumped against the base of a tree, drenched in shadow, the black of his coat almost
indistinguishable from the night around him. His shirt—what remained of it—was torn, soaked
through with blood. Not red. Not anymore. It had dried into something darker. Rusted.
His head hung forward, blood trailing down his fingers.
But he wasn't dead.
I stopped walking.
His body shifted—barely. A twitch of his shoulders. A breath that sounded more like a growl.
And then, slowly, so slowly it made my skin prickle, he lifted his head.
And I saw his eyes.
Not just red. Glowing. Bleeding. Ancient.
They looked at me like I was prey.
No. Worse.
Like I was something sacred he hadn't earned the right to touch—but would take anyway.
"Great," I muttered, stepping back. "A vampire."
His lips twitched.
It wasn't quite a smile. Not yet.
"And you're… very observant," he murmured, voice shredded at the edges like he hadn't used it
in years.
He didn't move. Not an inch. Just leaned his head back against the bark and stared at me like I
wasn't real. Like he couldn't decide if he wanted to devour me or let me speak again just to hear
the sound.
I hated that I spoke again.
"You're bleeding," I said, breath shallow. "A lot."
"I'm not," he replied, eyes narrowing, "but you smell like sin."
My pulse jumped.I didn't ask what he meant. I didn't want to know.
"I'm leaving."
Smart. I was being smart. I turned. I even made it two steps.
"You'll die," he said lazily. "If you go that way."
I froze.
His voice wasn't threatening. It wasn't kind either. It was... detached. Like he'd seen it happen
already and wasn't particularly interested in stopping it.
I turned halfway, glaring over my shoulder. "And what—if I stay, you'll help me?"
There was silence. Then:
A slow, crooked smile unfurled across his mouth.
"No," he said. "If you stay… I'll help myself."
My throat tightened. I reached for the dagger hidden under my coat. His eyes flicked down. Not
in fear. In amusement.
And then he laughed.
Low and rasping. Unsettling.
I should've run.
But the snow was falling harder now, and something in me knew—I'd wandered into a part of
the world that didn't forget mistakes. The kind of place that breathed with things older than
logic. Older than mercy.
And somehow… he was the safest monster here.
Part II: Ezriel
The gods were cruel. That much, I'd always known.
But tonight, they'd outdone themselves.
Because they sent her.Elena.
She stood there—breathing. Defiant. Shivering in her too-thin coat with eyes that still burned
like I remembered. But she didn't know me. Not yet.
She didn't remember what she used to be.
Didn't remember what I made her forget.
But I remembered everything.
I remembered the curve of her mouth when she lied. The way her voice shook when she wanted
to be brave. I remembered the scar on her hip—just above the bone, left from a tumble down the
palace steps when she was seven. I remembered the sound she made when she said my name like
it meant something.
I remembered her blood.
The first time it touched my tongue, it tasted like summer and sin.
She had been mine once.
She didn't know that either.
Not anymore.
And now here she was, standing over me, daring to walk away. As if I wasn't Ezriel Thorne. As
if I wasn't the very thing the priests whispered about. As if I hadn't waited in shadows for this
moment. For her.
Let her believe I was just a wounded predator. Let her think I was broken. Weak.
Let her think she could escape.
Because I wasn't going to stop her.
Not yet.
Let her try to outrun the forest.
Let her run headlong into whatever darkness she thought was safer than me.
And when she came crawling back—starving, terrified, frozen and alone—I would be waiting.
Not as a savior.Not as a prince.
But as the one she would belong to.
Because fate doesn't play fair.
And neither do I.
When she remembers—when it all comes flooding back into that fragile little mind of hers—it'll already be too late.
Because I won't let her go again.
Even if I have to break hey to keep her.