Scape
1119 Words
Daphne inhaled and laid her palm against the cold glass of the window.
The fortress walls' noise was now thickening the silence, and the sky was a blanket of stars above.
She knew this was her chance, and probably her only one.
There was no more time for her to be here.
She took a long breath and murmured a silent spell with it, feeling the familiar rise of the magic in her; then the window lock began to glow faintly, and with the tiniest kind of click unlocked.
Spell of silence: quite simple but relatively effective. She swung open the window and felt the cool, night air rush against her skin.
A long drop loomed beneath her, but that didn’t mean much to her; she could handle it. And with a whisper of power, there was a fold in the air when she jumped downwards into the night, creating a space wrapped around her so that she descended slowly.
The ground arrived at her boots just as background noise, softened by her spell while other sounds traveled, and she ran.
Daphne ran, with blood roaring in her ears, with the trees surrounding her resembling giants. She did not employ strong magic; the little wind used in her footsteps was somewhat hurried, and she used only the dimmest shadows to always keep herself hidden from view whenever she could.
All of her instincts told her that she was being watched. Yet no one followed.
That was wrong. That was impossible.
Lysander’s wolves were everywhere—she had seen their discipline, felt their presence pressing against her senses. And yet, the forest was eerily still.
She should have been hunted.
But she wasn’t.
Why?
She pushed forward, her breath sharp in the cold air, when— A Wolf.
Not a sound, not a motion—but a presence.
Daphne whirled mid-step, summoning fire to her palm, but it was too late. A figure stood in her path.
Lysander.
His storm-gray eyes gleamed under the moonlight; his dark blue hair untouched by the wind. Calm. Unshaken. As if he had always been waiting for this moment.
Daphne staggered back a step, her fire flickering uncertainly. “You knew I’d run.”
Lysander tilted his head slightly. “I let you.”
She's about to lose it.
He had never sent his wolves after her.
Because he had always planned to retrieve her himself.
Daphne gritted her teeth, invoking flames once more at her fingertips. “You think I’ll just go back?”
Lysander didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. “I think you will do as you please,” he mused, in a calm voice. “But I do wonder, really, where are you thinking of going?”
Daphne opened her mouth, then paused.
She hadn’t thought that far. The Academy wouldn’t take her back.
The forests beyond the territory were filled with dangers worse than wolves.
Lysander stepped closer, slowly. Not a threat. Not yet.
“You don't have anywhere to go,” he continued, his voice deep yet steady. “You just don’t think this through.”
Daphne gritted her teeth. “And can you blame me?”
His expression remained unreadable. “No.”
Her breath caught. She hadn’t expected that answer.
“Then let me go.”
Lysander exhaled, gazing momentarily at the glowing fire around her hands. “You want to fight me for your freedom?”
She did.
But she also understood that it would not work in her favor.
Lysander took one more step ahead, bridging the space between them.
“It doesn’t take magic to know how it ends,” Daphne gulped.
He was right.
There was no way she could win.
Not that she would make it easy.
“I don't trust you,” she whispered.
His eyes darkened. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”
"Just tell me why?" she begs for an answer.
The silence between them was heavy, charged with something unspoken. A battle that neither of them wanted to name.
Then, before she could make another move, a distant howl broke the stillness.
Lysander’s eyes flickered, a shift in his posture telling her everything before he even spoke.
Something had changed.
"We need to come back tomorrow, we can talk." Lysander finally said something.
Daphne was panting heavily as they walked back through the thick trees; her body was tired, her brain was churning, but the fight was gone out of her, and she didn't resist.
Lysander did not speak; she would not, either. It was neither surrender nor resistance.
The guards were already back on their posts, indifferent to her escapade by the time they got to the fortress gates. She had never really been free. Not for a moment.
Lysander led her inside, strong and steady as ever. This is his territory; he was reminding her again.
They passed into shadowed corridors, the castle's heat cloistering in, past the coldness of the night air. Now, Daphne was spent.
"You have to rest," Lysander told her, stopping at her door. His tone was determined but not unkind. She turned to face him, searching for an answer in his face.
Did he think she would run off again? Did he care?
"You aren't locking the door?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.
Lysander smiled. "You could always try," he replied, "but I will always bring you back." Daphne inhaled sharply, walking past him into her room, not bothering to say anything.
She did not trust him; but tonight, there was nothing left in her to fight. She threw herself upon the bed and allowed sleep to sweep over her.
Tomorrow, she’ll try again. Or perhaps, just perhaps... answer some questions.
The dawn gave way to a rider whose arrival at the gates of the fortress heralded the destruction of the serenity of the early morning.
A messenger in attendance from the Academy.
The wolves felt the change long before the guards even made the call for the Alpha. Lysander and Caelum were there, waiting in the main hall when the letter came.
Caelum broke the wax seal and skimmed the parchment with golden eyes before handing it to Lysander.
“They demand her back.” Lysander read the letter in silence, betraying neither anger nor indifference.
"Of course they do." Crossing his arms, Caelum asked,
“What will you do?” Letting out a slow breath, Lysander tightened his grip slightly around the letter.
"That depends."
Caelum raised an eyebrow. "On what?"
Lysander's eyes flicked toward the passage leading to Daphne's chambers.
"On whether she will want to stay with me."
"So, you won't deny her? "Do you honestly want her?" Caelum said, grinning.
“Yes,” Lysander answered.
- Writer
