Tempting the Huntress

“Up.” The word cracked through the forest like a gunshot. Lilith hit the ground hard enough to drive the breath from her lungs. Cold dirt filled her mouth. Pain flared along her ribs, sharp and familiar. She rolled, spat, and forced herself upright before the echo of her father’s voice finished fading. Magnus Rothwell stood a few paces away, boots planted, arms folded behind his back. He watched her the way hunters watched prey: patient, measuring, merciless. “Again,” he said. She pushed herself to her feet. Her palms burned where bark had scraped skin raw. She didn’t look down. Looking down meant weakness. “You think the Academy will coddle you?” he continued, circling her. “You disgrace our name every time you hesitate.” She straightened her spine, jaw tight. “Then perhaps the name should learn to stand without crushing what carries it.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. Magnus halted. Slowly, he turned. “What was that?” “Nothing, sir.” His gaze lingered, heavy with disappointment sharper than anger. Then he nodded once. “Again.” She obeyed. She always did. — The farewell came hours later, stripped of any warmth. Her mother waited in the stone entryway, arms folded against the cold. Freya Rothwell pressed a jacket into Lilith’s hands, thick wool, fur-lined, practical. “The north cuts sharply,” she said. “Wear this.” No embrace. No softening. Magnus checked Lilith’s gear with military precision. A tug at the thigh sheath. A glance at the dagger’s edge. “Keep it sharp.” That was the sum of it. Her grandfather stood last. Ragnar Rothwell leaned heavily on his cane, age bent into his spine but not his gaze. One scarred hand closed around Lilith’s shoulder, grip iron-hard. “Don’t shame us.” That was the sum of her goodbyes. No lingering looks, no warmth. Just orders, warnings, and weight. The Rothwell way. Lilith almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Most girls her age left home with tearstained cheeks and promises to write. She left with expectation coiled around her neck like a noose but… She was finally away from home. — The plane lifted through Oslo rain, city lights dissolving beneath cloud. Lilith leaned back as the seatbelt sign flicked off, fingers brushing the familiar weight strapped to her thigh. She exhaled for what felt like the first time in her life. Ravenshore. Here I come… The wind hit her the moment she stepped off the cab, salted, sharp, old. It carried the sound of the sea and something deeper beneath it, something that raised the fine hairs along her arms. The town unfolded in narrow streets and slate roofs, chimneys smoking lazily against a gray sky. It was like she was transported back in time. Ravenshore clung to the cliffs like it had grown there, stubborn and defiant. The ocean churned below, waves smashing against black rock in bursts of white fury. She walked, boots clicking against uneven cobblestone, aware of eyes lingering just a second too long. Not hostile. Assessing.Lilith drew her coat tighter around her, walking down a narrow street that smelled of peat fires and fresh bread. Her apartment sat above a bookshop that smelled of ink and dust. The landlady handed over the keys without comment. Lilith appreciated that. Inside, the room was small. Bare floorboards. A single window facing the sea. Before unpacking, she drew her dagger. The blade caught the light dully, runes carved deep into the stone. Ancient. Quiet. Waiting. She strapped it back into place and felt her shoulders loosen. Better. — She wandered until the streets opened into a square alive with morning trade. Fishermen shouted prices beside crates of silver-scaled catch. A baker’s door stood open, warm butter and sugar cutting through the brine. Children darted past with wooden swords, shouting about some big black wolves. Lilith’s mouth twitched. She left the noise behind and followed the path toward the cliffs. The sea roared below, endless and unforgiving. Wind tore strands of ash-blonde hair loose from her braid. She stood there longer than she meant to, staring at the horizon where sky and water blurred together. For the first time in her life, no one was watching her stance. No one was counting her breaths. Her hand brushed the scar on her arm, then the dagger at her side. What if there was more than this? More than training. More than blood. Freedom felt lighter than she’d imagined, and far more dangerous. A raven cried overhead. Lilith stilled. The sound that followed wasn’t wind. Wasn’t water. Footsteps. But the thud was different. Her hand slid to her sides. The forest swallowed her as she moved, body sinking into shadow on instinct alone. Every sound sharpened, the snap of a twig, the scrape of breath that wasn’t hers. Then it came. A blur of fur and muscle slammed into her, driving her back into a pine hard enough to splinter bark. Pain exploded through her shoulder. Her dagger cleared its sheath, Too slow. Her dagger was half up when the creature slammed her back, claws pinning her wrist before she could strike. The dagger’s glow faltered as the it’s weight bore down, hot breath steaming against her throat. Its teeth snapped inches from her jugular, the sound a sickening clack of bone on bone. Her heart thundered. She twisted, struggling to free her hand, but the claws dug deeper, steel hooks locking her arm in place. One wrong move and the beast could shear through skin and artery in a heartbeat. Move. Now. She twisted, teeth bared, forcing the blade up. She hissed through clenched teeth, trying to wrench the dagger loose with her free hand. She bared her teeth, ready to jam cold steel into fur, stone carving through flesh if she had to. And then it froze. Not because of her. It bolted. Gone in a heartbeat, vanishing into undergrowth as if dragged away by an unseen hand. Lilith staggered forward, dagger raised, breath tearing through her lungs. She wasn’t alone. He stood at the edge of the clearing, half in shadow. Tall. Still. Dressed in dark clothes that seemed to drink the light. Black hair stirred by the wind. Eyes— gray, sharp and alive, locked onto hers. Her dagger pulsed, but not in warning. Confusion. That wrongness crawled over her skin. For a split second, his expression flickered, surprise, bare and unguarded. Then it vanished, replaced by a slow, infuriating smirk. “Easy,” he said, lifting his hands. “I’m not the one who tried to eat you.” Lilith’s guard snapped back up. She lifted the dagger higher. “Woah, woah. Easy, dagger-girl. I come in peace.” The voice curled smooth and unsettling, too easy. It did something to her nerves, like the brush of silk over a blade. Her eyes narrowed. “Who are you?” she said. “I am just someone making sure you didn’t die.” His gaze lingered, assessing. Curious. “You handled yourself well.” She didn’t lower the dagger. His smirk widened into something almost boyish, dangerous in its charm. He tilted his head, a mockery of sincerity flashing in those gray eyes. “You shouldn’t be here,” he continued lightly. “Ravenshore forest isn’t safe.” “And yet,” she said, “here you are.” His smile sharpened. “Fair point.” She turned away. “Wait,” he called, amusement threading his voice. “New in town?” She didn’t answer. “I have a feeling,” he went on, closer than he had any right to be, “we’ll be seeing each other again.” Lilith spun— The clearing was empty. Only a raven remained, perched above, black eyes fixed on the place where he’d stood. Her dagger hummed low against her side. Lilith exhaled, slow and steady. The raven tilted its head, watching her with knowing eyes. Ravenshore had teeth. And it had just bared them.