Chapter 7: Between moonlight and lies
545 Words
(Kael’s POV)
The ride to Ironfang was supposed to be silent. I’d planned it that way. Fewer words, fewer chances for her to ask questions I couldn’t answer.
But silence had a way of breaking around Lyria.
She rode beside me, hair whipping in the wind, her gaze fixed ahead like she could outrun every secret chasing her. The scent of her—warm, faintly wild—kept brushing against my senses. Every inhale was a fight not to look.
“You’ve been staring at me for half the journey,” she said suddenly, eyes flicking to me. “Should I be flattered or worried?”
I smirked, trying to mask the jolt her voice sent through me. “Neither. Just making sure you don’t fall off the horse.”
She arched a brow. “Protective or controlling?”
“Both,” I said, because it was easier than admitting I didn’t want to stop watching her.
The forest around us thickened — dark branches arching above like claws. The deeper we went, the colder it felt. Ironfang wasn’t far now, and the closer we drew, the heavier the air became, humming with ancient power.
Then I smelled it — faint but sharp. Blood.
I halted my horse instantly. “Stop.”
Lyria reined in beside me, eyes narrowing. “What is it?”
I dismounted, crouching beside the path. The earth was damp, marked by claw prints. Not wolf. Not human either. Something in between.
Her voice was quiet, cautious. “Kael…?”
“Stay behind me,” I said.
She ignored me, of course. She always did. She knelt beside me, her fingers brushing the mark before I could stop her. A spark of energy flared — silver light snaking along her wrist.
I grabbed her hand. “Don’t—”
But it was too late. The light pulsed once and vanished, leaving her trembling.
“What was that?” she whispered.
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because the truth was impossible. That mark — that magic — hadn’t existed in this realm for decades.
“Tell me,” she demanded, her eyes locking with mine. “You know what it means.”
Her pulse raced beneath my hand, her skin burning against mine. For a heartbeat, all I could do was stare — her lips, her eyes, the stubborn fire that made her both dangerous and… intoxicating.
“Lyria,” I said, my voice low. “You’re not supposed to exist.”
She blinked, confusion flashing across her face — right before a low growl echoed from the shadows.
A pair of eyes glowed red between the trees. Then another. And another.
I drew my blade, pulling her behind me. “Stay close.”
Her hand found mine — unplanned, desperate — and something ancient stirred between us, like the forest itself had begun to breathe.
I tightened my grip. “Whatever happens,” I said, “don’t run.”
She looked up at me, fear and fire in her gaze. “You already know I won’t.”
The growls closed in. The moonlight broke through the clouds, silver and cold. And as the first creature lunged, I realized something terrifying—
The monsters weren’t the only things I was trying to fight.
- Writer
