Eclipsed Souls

The Awakening Magic

The forest whispered secrets to the night, the hush of rustling leaves entwined with Elara’s ragged breaths as she pulled her arm free from his grasp. Her heart pounded against her ribs, her pulse a frenzied drumbeat echoing in her ears. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to run—to put as much distance between herself and this stranger as possible—but her body betrayed her, frozen under the weight of his golden gaze. The moonlight carved sharp shadows across his face, illuminating the chiseled planes of his jaw and the quiet storm in his eyes.

“What are you running from?” His voice was low, steady—deceptively calm, as if the answer didn’t matter. But Elara heard the undercurrent of something else, something unreadable beneath his words.

She hesitated. What was the point in lying? The truth had already condemned her.

“The village,” she whispered, her voice trembling despite herself. “They think I’m a witch.”

Darius didn’t move, but something flickered in his eyes—recognition, perhaps, or something darker. Elara braced herself for scorn, for mockery, for suspicion. Instead, he simply studied her, his gaze searching hers as though he could unearth the truth by looking deep enough.

“Are you?” he asked.

The question lingered between them, heavy as the night air. Was she? She had never cast a spell, never whispered incantations beneath the stars, never held power in her hands. And yet… she had always felt the pull of something unseen, something ancient that lived in the marrow of her bones. The river whispered to her, the wind called her name. She had always been different.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

Darius exhaled, something akin to amusement ghosting across his expression before it was swallowed by the stoic mask he wore so well. He studied her for another moment before stepping aside, tilting his head toward the darkness beyond.

“Then you should keep running.”

Elara should have. Every logical part of her mind screamed at her to flee, to disappear into the embrace of the night and never look back. And yet, she remained rooted in place, her body betraying her once more. Something in the way he spoke—so certain, so absolute—made her hesitate. She had spent her entire life running from accusations, from whispered fears and wary glances. But now, for the first time, she felt as though someone truly saw her.

And then the shadows shifted.

A wind swept through the forest, cold as death, carrying with it a whisper of something unnatural. The trees groaned as though in warning, their branches stretching toward the sky like skeletal fingers. The air thickened, heavy with a presence Elara couldn’t see but could feel in the pit of her stomach. The distant hum of whispered spells coiled through the night, a haunting melody that made her blood run cold.

Darius stiffened, his golden eyes darkening. He felt it too.

“Elara,” a voice slithered through the darkness, barely more than a breath against the wind.

She turned sharply, scanning the trees, but saw nothing. Yet the presence pressed against her skin, its weight suffocating. Fear coiled tight in her chest, an invisible force squeezing the breath from her lungs.

The shadows had found her.

Her knees threatened to buckle as dread seeped into her bones. It was too soon. She had only just escaped, had barely tasted freedom, and already they had come for her. But who were they? The villagers? The elders? No… this was something else. Something far more dangerous.

Her body screamed at her to run, but her legs refused to move. And then, in the stillness, she felt it—a presence beside her, solid and unwavering. Darius had not left. He stood rigid, his muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike. His hand hovered near the hilt of his blade, but he did not draw it—not yet.

“Who’s there?” he demanded, his voice edged with warning.

The forest did not answer. But the wind carried laughter, dark and hollow, echoing between the trees. A chill crept up Elara’s spine, a cold so deep it seeped into her very soul. This was no ordinary threat.

A figure emerged from the shadows, its form barely distinguishable from the darkness itself. Cloaked and hooded, its presence reeked of something ancient and unnatural. Elara’s breath caught in her throat as the figure lifted a skeletal hand, its fingers curling in silent invitation.

“Come, child,” the voice rasped, hollow and grating like dead leaves. “The stars have already written your fate.”

Elara took a step back, her pulse a frenzied staccato in her chest. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to disappear into the depths of the forest and never look back. But fear rooted her in place, her feet frozen to the earth.

Darius moved then, stepping in front of her with a swiftness that sent a jolt of surprise through her. His presence was a shield between her and the looming darkness, his stance unwavering.

“She’s not going anywhere,” he said, his voice laced with quiet steel.

The figure tilted its head, as if amused. “You would stand against destiny, prince?”

The title sent a shock through Elara’s veins. Prince? She glanced at Darius, her mind racing. He had not spoken of his identity, had given no indication of his lineage. And yet, the stranger knew.

Darius’s grip tightened around his sword, though he still did not draw it. “Destiny is for fools,” he said coldly. “She doesn’t belong to you.”

The laughter returned, brittle and sharp. “You cannot keep her from what she is meant to be.”

The ground trembled beneath them, a pulse of energy rippling through the earth. The air turned thick, charged with something unseen. And then, before Elara could react, the figure raised a hand and darkness surged toward them.

Darius moved without thinking. One moment, he was standing beside her—the next, she was in his arms, his body twisting as he shielded her from the oncoming force. The impact sent them crashing to the ground, the wind knocked from her lungs as they tumbled together through the underbrush.

For a breathless moment, the world was nothing but spinning shadows and the warmth of Darius’s body against hers. And then, silence.

Elara blinked up at him, her heart hammering against her ribs. His face was close—too close—the golden fire of his eyes searching hers. The weight of him, the warmth of his breath ghosting against her skin, sent a shiver down her spine.

Then, the moment shattered.

Darius pushed himself off of her, his movements swift and controlled. He reached for his sword, but the figure was already gone, swallowed by the night. Only the lingering chill remained, a reminder that the darkness had not left—it was merely waiting.

Elara sat up, her breath uneven. “What was that?” she whispered.

Darius exhaled, his jaw tight. “Trouble.”

He stood, offering her a hand. She hesitated before taking it, his grip firm and grounding. As he pulled her to her feet, his eyes lingered on her, something unreadable flickering in their depths.

“You need to leave this forest,” he said. “Now.”

Elara swallowed hard. “And go where?”

Darius was silent for a long moment before he finally answered.

“With me.”

The night pressed in around them, filled with the weight of unseen forces. And as Elara stared into the eyes of the man who had saved her, she realized that her fate had already been decided the moment she met him.

The night had swallowed them whole.