The First Lie That Draws Blood
292 Words
Chapter Three
Elara woke screaming.
Her room was unchanged—wooden walls, cracked window, the smell of drying herbs—but her body burned as if something beneath her skin had shifted and failed to settle.
For days afterward, she dreamed of teeth and forests that whispered her name.
And sometimes, when she looked into the mirror—
Her eyes shone gold.
The first attempt on Elara’s life came disguised as kindness.
It arrived in the form of a woman she had never seen before—tall, pale, dressed in soft greys, her smile gentle in a way that felt rehearsed.
“I was told you heal,” the woman said, voice smooth as still water. “My sister is dying.”
Elara hesitated only a moment.
That was her weakness. Everyone knew it.
They walked together toward the forest edge, the woman’s steps unhurried, confident. Too confident. The air thickened with every step, the light thinning, as if the day were holding its breath.
“You shouldn’t go farther,” Elara said, stopping near the warning tree.
The woman smiled wider.
“Oh, but you should.”
The world tilted.
Pain bloomed at Elara’s neck—sharp, burning. She gasped, fingers flying to the spot, coming away wet with blood. The woman’s eyes had changed, pupils blown wide, irises pale as frost.
“Stay still,” she murmured. “It will be quicker that way.”
Elara screamed.
The forest answered.
Branches lashed out. Roots coiled. The woman was dragged backward, shrieking as teeth—not animal, not human—tore into her from the undergrowth.
Elara collapsed, shaking.
From the shadows, unseen, golden eyes burned.
Alaric watched the assassin die and felt the first crack split through the old laws.
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