Rowan knocked once before opening the door.
Elara lay curled on her side, facing the wall. She hadn't realized how tightly she was holding herself until she felt the mattress dip and heard the soft scrape of wood against stone.
"I brought you something," he said gently.
She turned slowly. In his hands was a shallow wooden bowl and a piece of bread set carefully on a cloth. Steam rose faintly from the food.
"You haven't eaten since you woke," he added. "You must try. Even a little."
Elara pushed herself upright, though her chest still felt tight. She accepted the bowl with shaking hands. The stew inside was thick and dark, filled with roots and grains she didn't recognize.
She stared at it for a long moment.
"It's not poisoned," Rowan said quietly, not smiling. "I would not do you such harm."
"I know," she whispered.
She lifted the spoon and tasted it. The flavor was strange—earthy, sharp, unfamiliar—but warm. Real. She swallowed, then took another bite. Her eyes stung unexpectedly.
Rowan watched without speaking.
"I don't understand anything," she said softly. "This place. The town. The things you talk about like they're normal." Her voice broke. "I feel like I woke up inside someone else's life."
He sat back slightly, giving her space. "Fear will do that."
"I'm not brave," she admitted. "I don't know how to survive here."
"You are still standing," he said. "That is more than many manage."
She finished only half the bowl before setting it aside, exhaustion washing over her. Outside, the light had faded. Shadows stretched across the room as the fire dimmed.
The forest changed with the dark.
Sounds crept in through the walls—distant howls, low and mournful, not quite animal. Branches shifting without wind. Something moving far away, heavy and deliberate.
Elara froze. "What was that?"
Rowan's jaw tightened. "The forest at night."
"That's not an answer," she whispered.
"It is the only one I can give you without frightening you further."
Too late.
She drew her knees to her chest. "You said the wolves live beyond the ridges."
"Yes."
"Can they come here?"
Rowan hesitated.
"Rowan."
"Rarely," he said at last. "And not without reason."
Her breathing quickened. "I want to go home."
He stood then. "Rest," he said softly. "I will keep watch."
As he turned away, something in him shifted.
He had sensed it the moment he found her—something wrong, something out of place. Not magic. Not danger. Just… absence.
Humans in Thalorien carried echoes. Of bloodlines. Of old crossings. Of history.
Elara carried none.
And yet the forest had not rejected her.
Rowan paused at the doorway, looking back once more.
"What are you?" he murmured under his breath.
Elara lay awake long after he left, staring at the ceiling as the forest breathed around her.
Later—much later—the thought would come to her:
I've read about this.
I've seen this.
I just never believed it was real.
But tonight, all she felt was fear.
And the aching certainty that whatever had brought her here had not been an accident.