The Search Begins!
743 Words
ELENA (POV)
The next week was a blur.
We hunted legends, decoded cryptic messages, interrogated witches, bartered with seers. Each clue was darker than the last, leading us into old catacombs and cursed woods.
A necromancer in Romania whispered, “Follow the dying wind. The Reaper walks where time forgets.”
A dream-seer in Prague claimed, “He hides in places untouched by life… and feared by the dead.”
A blood oracle offered us a riddle: "When moonlight fades where no shadow falls,
The bone king waits behind the silence's walls."
Logan and I were exhausted—but somehow, we grew closer. Not just because of the bond, but because beneath the fear and conflict… he was starting to understand me, and I was beginning to trust him.
Even though we were searching for a way to break this connection…
I couldn’t help but notice the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t watching. And the way my chest tightened every time he pulled me out of danger.
This wasn’t just magic.
It was something more. Something we weren’t ready to name yet.
The Whispering Chapel – First Reaper Sign
By now, I should’ve been used to waking up in strange places.
But nothing prepared me for the silence of the Whispering Chapel—an abandoned stone ruin deep in the heart of the forest, where even the wind held its breath.
Luther led the way.
Yes, Luther—Logan’s sharp-tongued, dragon-shifter brother who originally couldn’t stand the sight of me. Now? We shared quiet glances, little jokes, and he even made me coffee yesterday. That counted as bonding in supernatural terms, I guessed.
Logan walked beside me, ever-protective, ever-aware. I could feel the bond humming faintly between us, like the air thickened when he was near. Lately, I’d felt something else too—something shifting inside me. But I kept that to myself.
“Stay close,” Luther warned, his voice low. “There’s something off about this place.”
The chapel was crumbling—a forgotten thing—but as soon as I stepped through the arched doorway, the air shifted. It didn’t feel abandoned.
It felt… watched.
My fingers tingled. My skin buzzed like static.
Luther stopped in front of the altar, his eyes narrowing. “Something’s been here.”
“What?” Logan asked.
“I’m not sure.” Luther crouched and picked something up from the dusty stone: a single black feather, old and cold like it had been touched by winter itself.
As soon as he held it, the air dropped ten degrees. My breath caught in my throat.
And then—I felt a tug in my chest. Not from the bond. Something else.
Images flashed through my mind—a dark figure in a long cloak, a door made of bones, a name whispered in wind I didn’t understand.
Luther turned toward me slowly, brows furrowed.
“Elena,” he said carefully, “did you feel that?”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “What was that?”
Logan stepped closer to me, his jaw clenched. “Are you alright?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “It felt like… someone was trying to pull me somewhere. Like a dream I wasn’t ready to have.”
Luther placed the feather on the altar. “This isn’t just any dark magic. It’s a calling card. A sign.”
“Of what?” He looked at both of us.
“The Grim Reaper. He’s watching.”
A heavy silence fell.
I glanced between them. “That means we’re getting closer… right?”
“Or,” Luther said, “he’s getting closer to us."
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BACK AT THE MANSION – THAT NIGHT
"You and Luther seem to be getting along,” Logan said that night as we crossed paths in the kitchen.
“Yeah,” I said, smiling faintly. “He’s not as scary once he stops looking like he wants to roast me alive.”
Logan smirked, but there was something unreadable in his expression. “He’s… protective. But if he’s softening toward you, that means something.”
And deep down, I knew something else was changing too.
In me.
Not just the bond. Not just the nightmares.
Something older. Waking. But I wasn’t ready to say it out loud yet.
- Writer
