The village slept—or tried to. The wind clawed at the rooftops, rattling shutters, and the rain slicked streets reflected the pale glow of lanterns. Every shadow seemed alive, stretching and twisting like something breathing beneath the stone.
Lyra moved through it all, silent and careful, basket in hand. Her boots pressed against the wet cobblestones, and yet, each step felt heavier than the last. The contents of the basket were mundane—bread, herbs—but the weight on her chest was not.
The mark.
Hidden beneath her tunic, silver and faint, yet burning with a pulse all its own. A reminder. A warning. A destiny she could neither escape nor fully understand.
She had spent years hiding it. Running from rumors, avoiding the gaze of strangers, keeping her powers dormant. Tonight, that would end.
A rustle from the forest edge made her stop. Heart hammering, she spun.
A branch snapped. Leaves whispered in the storm. Silence.
Lyra swallowed. It wasn't an animal. It wasn't the wind. Something unnatural moved in the shadows. Something deadly.
She bolted, basket forgotten, feet slick against the rain-soaked stones.
And then came the hiss of shadows.
Figures emerged from the darkness—limbs twisted, eyes glowing red, shapes that belonged to nightmares. They lunged without sound, fast and precise. Lyra's pulse soared. She had trained for threats like this, but nothing could prepare her for creatures that seemed to flow with the night itself.
A heat surged in her chest. The mark pulsed violently, as though it had its own heartbeat.
She raised her hands instinctively.
Silver light exploded from the sigil, washing over the shadows. They shrieked and recoiled, writhing before dissolving into mist. Lyra stumbled backward, gasping. Her powers… they were awakening.
And then she heard it.
"You shouldn't be here."
The voice was soft, almost teasing. And yet, it cut through the storm like a blade.
Lyra froze.
From the mist, a figure emerged. Tall, imposing, yet impossibly graceful. His hair was black with streaks of crimson that shimmered even under the rain. Eyes of molten gold bore into hers, unnerving yet captivating. His presence was heavy, like the calm before a hurricane.
He moved with predatory ease, yet his smirk hinted at amusement—a playful edge that didn't match the danger radiating from him.
Lyra's heart stuttered. Something in her screamed to flee. Something else—a stubborn defiance—kept her rooted.
The shadows lunged again.
He lifted a hand lazily. A swirl of fire and darkness erupted from his blade, and the creatures disintegrated before reaching her. Lyra blinked. No human could move like that. No human could wield such power.
He stepped closer, golden eyes studying her, amused.
"You're marked," he said softly, almost to himself. "And I've been sent to… make sure you don't survive."
Lyra's stomach dropped. Her training, her orders, her life's purpose—it all pointed to this. She was the one tasked to destroy him.
And he… had not attacked yet.
Her mind raced. She could run, but where? Every street, every alley, could be an ambush. Her mark pulsed again, responding to the danger, the adrenaline, the fear. Silver light brushed against her skin like fire.
The man—or demon—before her tilted his head. A smirk played on his lips.
"Run," he said. "Or stay. I don't mind either way."
Lyra's fists clenched. She could fight. She had to.
"You think I'm afraid?" she shouted, raising her hands again. The silver light flared.
He laughed then, soft and dark, like a melody of danger. "Afraid? You? No. Curiosity, maybe. Excitement, definitely."
Her pulse spiked. What was this creature? What was he?
He stepped closer. Every movement precise, deliberate. The storm seemed to bend around him. Rain clung to his coat and hair, yet he looked… untouchable.
"You were sent to kill me," he said, golden eyes piercing. "And yet, here you are. Alive."
Lyra's jaw tightened. "And you… you're the one they warned me about. Kael."
A flicker of amusement crossed his face. "Ah, so you know my name. Good. It makes our game… more interesting."
A scream from the shadows behind her made her spin. Another wave of twisted creatures emerged, faster than the last.
Kael moved like liquid, blade flashing in the rain. Shadows screamed and vanished as if burned by an unseen fire.
Lyra's silver light collided with his molten-gold energy, and the world seemed to pause for a heartbeat.
She staggered, breath heaving. He was… powerful. Far beyond anything human. But she… she could fight. She had to.
"Stay still, or run again," he said, voice soft yet dangerous, "and I'll enjoy the chase."
Her chest heaved. She wanted to fight, to flee, to survive.
The storm's fury mirrored the chaos in her mind. Lightning split the sky, illuminating the alley in harsh white light. Shadows bowed before Kael's presence, even the night itself seeming to fear him.
Lyra's mark pulsed, responding to the danger. She felt it straining, powerful yet untamed. Every instinct screamed at her: strike, defend, survive.
Kael stepped closer, closer than anyone should ever stand. Rain plastered his hair to his face, but his smirk never faltered.
"Do you know what happens," he whispered, leaning slightly, voice dripping amusement, "when the hunter falls in love with his prey?"
Lyra's blood ran cold.
A shadow moved behind her. Faster than thought, faster than breath. Kael's blade flashed, silver light and golden energy intertwining. The screech of metal against darkness split the storm.
Lyra's eyes widened. This was no longer a test. This was life… or death.
And in that moment, she realized the chase had only just begun.
The world outside the alley no longer mattered. Kael, the immortal demon-dragon swordsman, the hunter, the predator… he was here.
And she was alive.
But for how long?