Chapter three
698 Words
~Aurella
Wait," Darius said, just as his shadow slipped past the doorway.
Cold air curled around my ankles. I stood still, breath caught.
He turned, eyes locked on my hand. "Your hand."
I looked down.
A faint red mark glowed near the base of my thumb. A crescent moon tangled in fine, jagged lines. Not a wound. Not natural.
"Where did you get that?" His voice was tight.
"I... I don’t know," I said, my voice barely a whisper.
Darius took a slow step closer. His eyes never left the mark.
"That wasn’t there before."
The mark pulsed, warm and itchy beneath my skin. My head throbbed, like something was knocking inside, begging to be let out.
"Maybe... maybe it happened when I fell," I said, but the words didn’t sound true, even to me.
The second his eyes touched it, a strange pull tugged at my chest.
Heat flashed behind my eyes. My knees wobbled. The room twisted.
***
Moonlight. Trees. A silver dress clung to a woman who looked like me.
Voices. Howls. A celebration.
A man stepped from the crowd, his face hidden by light and shadow.
He reached for me, touched my cheek.
Something deep inside leaned in.
Mate.
His eyes held sorrow. Love. Regret.
Then it all fell away.
Darkness.
I gasped, stumbling back into the present.
Darius watched me, quiet.
"You’re pale," he said.
I closed my fingers around the mark. "I’m fine. Just dizzy."
His gaze lingered. A question in his silence.
Then he turned away. "Stay out of trouble."
He left, but my heart wouldn’t slow.
The mark throbbed like a heartbeat.
***
Sleep didn’t come. When it did, it dragged me into restless dreams.
Bare feet on cold forest ground. A name called again and again. Not Arielle.
A throne. A silver crown. A hand gripping mine, warm and sure.
And always that man. Close enough to touch, but never clear enough to remember.
I woke up breathless, skin damp with sweat.
***
Work in the kitchen started early. No time to breathe. Just noise, heat, and scorn.
"Useless," Clara muttered as she slammed down a pan.
"She thinks she’s special," Becca sneered, flinging a cloth at me.
"I don’t," I said quickly, scrubbing harder.
"Then stop acting like it. Get the floors too."
They dumped all the worst jobs on me. My hands stayed red and raw. My knees ached. Hunger gnawed, but I learned not to show it.
Something in me held firm. I wouldn’t break. Not again.
***
Voices shouted outside. Blades clashed.
Training.
I passed by, arms full of flour sacks.
Darius stood at the edge of the yard. Calm. Focused.
A sword slipped from a trainee’s grip, flying straight toward me.
My body moved before I could think.
Hand out. Caught it mid-air.
Pain shot up my arm, but I didn’t drop it.
Silence.
Every eye turned.
Darius approached, eyes sharp.
"You moved fast."
"It just happened," I said, cradling my hand.
He looked at the mark. Then back to my face.
"That mark again?"
I nodded.
He watched me, quiet.
Then, "Come back here tomorrow."
"Why?"
"I want to see what else 'just happens.'"
***
Morning air stung my skin. I stood on the training field, unsure.
Darius tossed a wooden dagger my way. "Try to hit me."
I blinked. "I don’t know how."
"Exactly."
I hesitated, then lunged.
He dodged.
"Again."
I tried. Missed. Again.
My muscles found a rhythm. My steps, lighter. Faster. Movements I didn’t know I had taken over. A spin. A swipe. A perfect block.
Darius lowered his arms. "You were trained. Not recently. But deeply."
His words hung in the air.
A scream cut through the space.
"She shifted! Her eyes! They turned silver!"
Clara pointed at me from the edge of the field.
Gasps. Whispers.
Freak. Monster. Not one of us.
I touched my face. Nothing felt different.
Darius's voice snapped like thunder. "Back to training!"
They scattered, but the damage was done. Their words stayed behind.
I turned to leave.
The mark on my hand glowed, brighter than before. My chest tightened.
Then a voice.
Not around me.
Inside me.
Soft. Clear. Wild.
He’s here.
- Writer
