Chapter 1 — Shadows and Sparks
The night was thick with mist, curling around the stone walls like silent ghosts. Footsteps echoed in the corridor, soft at first, then louder, faster, clashing with the rhythm of her own heartbeat.
She ran. Bare feet pounding the cold stone floor, chest heaving. The torchlight flickered along the walls, making shadows leap like creatures alive. Panic burned in her lungs, sharp and biting. Every corner seemed like a trap, every echo a threat.
A figure stepped out of the darkness. Strong. Unyielding. She stumbled into him before she could react, the world tilting around her. His presence was calm, impossible to shake. A hand rose, steady and firm, and in that single touch, the chaos seemed to pause.
"Stay close," he murmured, voice low and smooth, almost soft. A command and a promise rolled into one. She obeyed without thinking, feeling the steady pulse of his strength against her own racing heartbeat.
The attackers surged like a tide, faces twisted with greed and fury. Blades glimmered in the torchlight, sharp and deadly. He moved with a fluid precision, striking, blocking, pivoting — a shadow of calm in the storm. Every move was perfect, every action decisive.
She watched, frozen, as his dark tunic swirled around him. His presence held the world steady while chaos raged. Her pulse thumped in her ears. Fear and awe warred inside her chest.
Then it was over. Silence fell, heavy and complete, broken only by ragged breaths. The attackers lay sprawled, moaning, defeated.
He looked at her once, and she felt the weight of those eyes — sharp, unreadable, like a storm barely contained. A faint nod, and a taller man in armor stepped forward.
"Take her," he said, voice calm, commanding, final. "Keep her safe."
The armored man lifted her gently, as though she might shatter under ordinary hands. She clung to him instinctively, heart still racing. In that moment, she trusted without thought, without question. Her world had narrowed to him — to the man who had pulled her from death.
And through it all, she could not look away from the shadow beside her. Strong. Unmoving in the chaos. The memory of his calm power burned in her chest. She did not know his name. She did not know his face would haunt her for years to come. She only knew she owed her life to him — the shadow who had reached into the dark and pulled her out.
They moved through the misty corridors together, silent except for her soft breathing. The weight of what had happened pressed down on her, yet she felt something else too — warmth, security, something she could not name. Her small hand brushed against his sleeve as he passed, accidental but lingering. He did not flinch, did not step back. He moved as if her touch meant nothing, yet somehow, she felt it meant everything.
Outside, the night air was cool and sharp, carrying the scent of wet stone and burning torches. She breathed it in deeply, tasting freedom for the first time in what felt like forever. Her savior was there, a quiet, unshakable presence beside her, and though she did not understand it yet, a tiny spark of something fragile and unnameable began to bloom in her chest.
She did not speak. She did not need to. He had saved her life, and for the first time, the world seemed to bend in her favor. In the silence, she understood one simple truth: she would follow him anywhere.
And though she did not know it yet, she had already begun to fall.