Where the heart lies

Elysia moved through the crowded market with practiced ease, her red velvet hood pulled low over her face as the scent of fresh bread and exotic spices mingled in the air. She kept her pace steady, unhurried, just another traveler among many. She had always loved this time of day, just after the sun came up when the market was just starting to display its wares. Beneath her cloak, her fingers brushed over the small vials of healing potions hanging from her belt, reassuring herself they were still there. Business had been good better than usual, but that only made her more nervous. Staying in one place too long was always a risk, and she had been arguing this with herself for months now, but potentially choosing to stay in a place of denial. The pouch of coins at her hip was heavier than usual, a sign of how many had come seeking her remedies. Fevers had swept through the town weeks ago, and word had spread quickly of a healer whose potions worked faster than any apothecary’s wares. She wanted to take pride in this, but she had taken care to keep her presence quiet, conducting her work in dim-lit alleyways and backrooms. No questions. Just a transaction. But people talked. As she passed a stall laden with dried herbs and jars of preserves, she heard her name, spoken too casually, too familiarly. “Morning, Elysia,” a man murmured as he passed, barely sparing her a glance. She nearly froze mid-step. Her breath hitched, her heart slamming against her ribs. She nodded to the man while an icy cold fear wrapped its way around her heart, kicking it up a few beats. It was nothing. Just a passing remark, she kept trying to argue with herself. But that was the problem. She wasn’t supposed to be known here. Her name shouldn’t roll off a stranger’s tongue as though she belonged. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to keep walking, her hands tightening into fists beneath her cloak. Had she made herself too familiar? Had she let herself slip into the routine? There had been signs like the way shopkeepers had stopped hesitating before handing over change, the way some of the town’s children had stopped eyeing her like an outsider. The way all her favorites were put to one side to ensure they always had stock left over for her. Damn it. She had been here too long and as if the moment she sensed that realization, the universe realized it as well. A shift rippled through the air. A subtle disturbance. The crowd’s energy changed, shifting, hesitating. Then she smelled it, a smell she knew all too well. Sulfur. The unnatural growl followed, low and guttural, cutting through the market’s hum. Merchants stopped what they were doing. A woman let out a sharp gasp. Even though mortals had no concept of demons, they still knew to be afraid of this character and, whether subconsciously or not, they all moved away. Elysia turned sharply, her pulse a hammer in her throat. She already knew exactly what she was going to see when she turned around. At the edge of the market, a figure stood among the frightened crowd. A demon. Not one of the mindless, violent creatures that roam the dark places of the world. This one was sent. It met her gaze with calm certainty, its yellowed eyes gleaming with quiet intent. They stared at one another as if daring each other to make the first move. It didn’t lunge. Didn’t attack. It was here for her. Elysia ran. The world blurred around her as she pushed through the throng of startled townsfolk, darting between stalls, slipping down tight alleys. She knew the streets too well. That thought made her stomach tighten, but she shoved it aside. There was no time for regrets. Hopefully, once she was free of the demon she could ponder her own stupidity then. The town’s walls weren’t far and, luckily, the market was always so quiet at this time of the day. Beyond the keep, the wilderness stretched wide and open with lots of places to hide or get lost. If she could reach the dense forests, she could disappear, work out how they had managed to find her. Footsteps. Not fast. Not hurried. But steady. The demon wasn’t trying to catch her. It was following, the idea that it might just follow her until she eventually was too tired to run flashed through her mind, but she buried it deep, thinking like that served no purpose. She took a sharp turn down an alley, nearly crashing into a stack of barrels. A merchant yelled in protest as she shoved past, but she didn’t stop. Couldn't stop. Ahead, an old stone bridge arched over the river that bordered the town. She ran for it. Still, the demon followed. It didn’t call out. Didn’t demand she stop. It was patient. That terrified her more than if it had attacked. At least if it was attacking, she would understand its purpose, but she would not be able to defend herself, not around people. So many people have been hurt in the past because of her. She could not allow even one more. Elysia reached the bridge, her breath ragged. She hesitated for half a second, then vaulted over the low bridge wall. She had just a moment to panic and regretted the choice when she saw below, the river rushing fast and cold. She plunged into the water, the shock of it stealing the air from her lungs. The current yanked her under, carrying her away from the town, from the market, from him. Another life she had to escape. When she surfaced, gasping, the bridge was already far behind. But she had no illusions. The demon would keep coming, they always keep coming, they always find her no matter her actions. By the time she reached the riverbank, she was freezing, exhausted, but alive. She couldn’t stop, this was her never-ending pattern and the thought was enough to make her pause a moment and just lay there, wondering if perhaps it was time she gave up running. Perhaps she should just let them capture her, give up her free will, but a fire still burned inside her. One day she will find a way to end this cycle. Forcing herself up, she stumbled into the trees, their branches scratching at her and tripping her as she went, her wet cloak clung to her skin acting almost like a second skin as she pressed deeper into the wilds. Hours passed. The trees thickened. The sun dipped lower. Only then, when her limbs ached, and the adrenaline had begun to wear off, did she realize she had made a mistake. It started as a faint flicker at first, like a small electrical charge in the air, then she could feel the tingle on her lips, there was magic in the air, a change and something was coming. Then the scent hit her. Thick. Powerful. Predatory. Wolves. A flicker of movement in the shadows. The snap of a twig. She threw herself around trying to chase the shadows, but they moved so fast, so silent. Then she saw them, the figures stepped into the fading light. No normal wolf would reach this size or pause to circle her like this. She could see the curiosity and anger in their golden eyes as they stared at her, not blinking. Werewolves. She had stumbled into pack land, and she was surrounded. She could do nothing but question what was worse, the demons or the wolves.