Chapter 2: Stranger with Silver Eyes
313 Words
Elara half-dragged, half-carried the fae into her grandmother’s cottage.
It was foolish—reckless, even. Everyone in Narell knew better than to invite Fae into their homes. But she couldn’t leave him there. Not bleeding. Not when his eyes had looked at her with such aching desperation.
She eased him onto the worn couch by the hearth. The moment his body touched the cushions, he went still—barely breathing. His silver hair clung to his brow, wet with sweat. His wings—battered and slashed—folded tight against his back, like a wounded bird trying to hide.
Elara worked quickly. She boiled water, cleaned his wounds with trembling hands, and bound the worst of them with her grandmother’s old linen wraps. Blood soaked through anyway—pale, almost luminous blood that shimmered faintly in the candlelight.
He didn’t stir until the cottage had fallen silent again.
“Where...?” His voice was hoarse.
“You’re safe,” she said softly, crouching beside him. “In my home. I found you by the old willow.”
His eyes fluttered open—silver, rimmed with pain and disbelief. “You… brought me here?”
Elara nodded. “You asked for help. I couldn’t just leave you.”
A long pause stretched between them, thick with the weight of unspoken things.
“You don’t know what I am,” he murmured.
“You’re Fae,” she whispered. “I know.”
Another silence.
“You shouldn’t trust me.”
She looked at him then—really looked—and saw not a monster, but a man shattered by something ancient and terrible.
“Maybe not,” she said gently. “But I will.”
His eyes closed, and for the first time since she’d found him, his expression softened.
Outside, the silver petals had stopped falling.
But inside, something had already begun to bloom.
- Writer
