The First Step Outside
1037 Words
A faint knock on the door tipped Diplomacy on edge inside that otherwise quiet chamber.
Turning her head, just in time, Daphne glimpsed Luiza stepping in next, a folded set of clothing draped over her arm. She exuded the smell of freshly ironed linen, with something deceptively woodsy poured in just behind.
Under this, to Daphne, it all felt out of place against the usual atmosphere of polished stone and firewood inside.
"You are looking better," Luiza had said, always with her voice that air of quiet poise.
Still, there was something in her tone quite different today: somehow more approachable, less distant. Daphne did a little finger-stretch, trying the tension in her limbs.
The ache was still there, but it had subsided; it was now more of a dull pain beneath the skin.
"I feel better," she admitted, giving a quick look at the clothing Luiza was carrying and back. “Are those for me?”
Luiza nodded, stepping forward to place them on the bed. “Alpha Lysander sent them. He believes you’re strong enough to walk.”
The mention of Lysander made Daphne’s breath catch for a fraction of a second, but she masked it well. So, he had decided she was ready to leave the confines of her room.
Or rather, he wanted to see how she would behave outside of it.
“I assume I can’t leave the fortress?” Daphne asked, arching a brow.
Luiza let out the smallest huff of amusement. “You assume correctly.”
Daphne glanced down at the clothes—dark fabric, simple but finely made, not the heavy robes of mages but something meant for movement.
“This isn’t a dress,” she noted.
“No,” Luiza agreed. “You’ll need something practical here. Dresses tend to slow you down.”
Daphne brushed her fingers over the fabric, feeling the texture beneath her skin. It was a small gesture, but it told her everything. This wasn’t just a courtesy. It was a test.
The first breath of open air hit differently.
With her mind alert and heartbeat steady, Daphne stepped into the corridor, but something within tightened with the enormity of Eldoria's fortress.
It was built of dark stone, carved out of colossal blocks, perpendicular walls, and the thinnest of magic ignited their torches with an unholy glow. Now, that was a fortress meant for wolves and not men, and one could feel an ancient, untamed presence encompassing every inch of it.
Walking next to her, Luiza moved like one who belonged; Daphne merely kept her posture neutral, even though she sensed eyes on her.
They were watching.
Not openly—but she could feel it. The presence of unseen figures, the quiet press of instincts that belonged to a pack, assessing her.
A sorceress among wolves.
Daphne forced herself not to react.
She had been watched it before. Judged before.
She would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her uneasy.
“They don’t trust me,” she murmured as they walked.
Luiza didn’t glance at her, but her voice was softer when she spoke. “Would you?”
Daphne let out a quiet exhale. Fair enough.
What they saw was a small courtyard open to the skies but enclosed by high walls, a breathing space for the warriors while still kept safely within the fortress.
Daphne was stretching her arms and relaxing her tensed muscles while looking around. Luiza stood leaning against one of the stone railings, watching her.
“You don’t ask many questions.”
Daphne turned her head, raised her brow. “Do you want me to?”
Luiza shrugged. “Most people do. About the pack. About Lysander.”
Daphne considered that for a moment.
“I don’t ask about things I’ll learn in time.”
Luiza’s lips twitched, almost in amusement. “That’s an interesting philosophy. But also, dangerous.”
Daphne exhaled, rolling a small stone beneath her boot. “I was raised to believe information is a weapon. And asking too much can be as dangerous as knowing too little.”
Luiza studied her for a moment before speaking.
“You were raised as a mage.”
Daphne didn’t deny it.
Luiza pushed off the railing, stepping closer. “As a Warrior too, do you hate us?”
Daphne blinked. The question was direct, sharp, and for the first time, Luiza’s gaze held something real unguarded.
Did she?
She had been raised to believe that wolves and mages were enemies—that they were dangerous, volatile, impossible to trust.
And yet…
Luiza had brought her food, tended to her wounds, helped her without hesitation.
And Lysander—he had saved her life.
She should have hated them.
But hate requires certainty.
And right now, Daphne was filled with nothing but questions.
“I don’t know yet.”
It was the only answer she could give.
Luiza held her gaze for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nodded.
“That’s more honest than most.”
The conversation should have ended there.
But then Daphne felt it.
A presence, The scent.
Not just a watchful gaze, not just curiosity.
Something heavier.
Carefully, she turned her head, and there high above, on the outer balcony of the fortress, stood a figure.
Lysander.
He was still, yet relaxed in the aware position, watching them from afar.
Watching her.
Daphne didn’t move.
Neither did he.
For a long time, there had been a heavy silence between them that seemed to stretch taut between their spirits, one of unexplainable but potent gravity.
Then, as if he knew she'd registered him, Lysander turned and disappeared into the fortress.
The moment passed, but it left the atmosphere charged with something nameless to Daphne.
Luiza exhaled. “You’ll have to speak to him soon.”
Daphne’s fingers curled slightly.
Before she could respond, a young warrior approached, lowering his head slightly in deference before speaking. “The Alpha has requested your presence for dinner.”
Daphne's breath stilled for a moment. Luiza, beside her, remained neutral, but there was something unreadable in her expression.
The message was clear.
She wouldn’t be able to avoid Lysander much longer.
And this time, there would be no distance between them.
- Writer
