chapter 19 The warning
1097 Words
Aria delivered the herbs to Old Naell just as the sun began its descent behind the forested hills. He greeted her with a gentle smile that seemed almost too kind for someone living so close to Selda’s shadow. A small piece of bread—something her aunt would never allow her to accept openly—was pressed into her hand.
“Thank you, sir,” she whispered, tucking it quickly into her pocket, heart thudding.
“Be careful, child,” Old Naell said softly, his eyes lingering on her as if he could see more than the herbs she carried.
Aria nodded and slipped away, her mind already preoccupied. The forest, normally vibrant and alive with the chirping of birds and rustling leaves, was eerily silent. The air felt heavier, as if the trees themselves were holding their breath.
She slowed her pace, the bundle of herbs pressing against her chest, when the familiar pull returned. That warmth in her chest—the sensation that someone close was near. But Kael wasn’t there this time. Only shadows stretched between the trees, sunlight flickering against the mossy trunks.
She tried to tell herself it was nothing. Just imagination. A trick of the fading light.
But her heartbeat refused to settle.
By the time she reached her cottage, Selda was already pacing the front yard, arms crossed, her boots scuffing the dirt sharply.
“You’re late,” she snapped, the words biting like frozen wind.
“I came straight back—” Aria began.
“Mira told me Old Naell said he didn’t get yesterday’s herbs on time, and now you want to start delaying today’s?” Selda’s eyes narrowed, calculating.
Aria blinked. Yesterday’s herbs had been delivered early. Mira must’ve lied… again.
“I delivered everything on time. I swear—”
“Are you calling my daughter a liar?” Selda hissed, stepping closer.
Before Aria could respond, Selda’s hand struck her cheek. The sting of it spread through her, but she forced herself not to cry out. Resistance had never ended well.
“Get inside,” Selda barked. “Sort the dried leaves. Rae will inspect them. If she finds a single flaw, you’ll redo all the laundry.”
“Yes, Aunt Selda,” Aria murmured.
She slipped past Mira and Rae, their smirks sharp as knives.
“Mom should really stop feeding her,” Mira whispered, loud enough for Aria to hear. “She doesn’t even work fast enough to deserve bread.”
Aria froze, fingers tightening around the bundle of herbs in her pocket. How… did Mira know?
Her chest felt heavy as the bread seemed to weigh down her pocket. Did Old Naell tell her? Or had Mira simply guessed? Fear slithered cold and sharp along her spine.
“Aria!” Selda’s voice snapped her back into reality.
The Sorting Room
Aria crouched on the wooden floor, baskets of dried herbs spread around her like small islands. Her hands moved automatically—mint, sage, lavender, moonbloom—separating them with mechanical precision.
Her mind, however, wandered far from the room. It drifted to the forest, to those silver eyes she couldn’t forget. The voice that had spoken to her so softly, so unexpectedly.
Kael.
When he looked at her, she hadn’t felt small. She hadn’t felt wrong. She hadn’t felt like the burden Selda constantly reminded her she was.
She had felt… seen.
That feeling terrified her more than Selda’s wrath ever could.
Hours passed in monotony, punctuated by the occasional snapping of Selda’s commands or Mira’s mocking laughter. By the time night fell, exhaustion weighed on her shoulders like stones.
Nightfall
Selda finally allowed her to retreat to her small sleeping corner near the kitchen. Aria collapsed onto the thin mattress, bones aching from hours of work. Her fingers tingled faintly—a warning from her magic. Something stirred in the air, responding to her fear, her anticipation, her anger.
She turned toward the window and saw it: a faint shimmer brushing over the trees. Silver light flickered and faded, just like before.
A presence. Familiar. Watching.
Her breath hitched.
“Kael…?” she whispered.
Of course, he wasn’t there. Wolves didn’t lurk around human homes. At least… not often.
But the pull in her chest was undeniable. Something—someone—was near. Something that stirred her magic and made her heartbeat erratic.
Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed from the front door. Aria’s body froze.
Selda’s voice barked from the living area. “Who is it?”
A deep, unfamiliar male voice replied, calm but insistent:
“I’m searching for someone. A girl with green eyes.”
Aria’s hands clutched the blanket beneath her. Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Selda opened the door halfway, her expression sharp and unyielding.
“No one likes that here,” she said flatly.
The man insisted. “She may be passing through these woods. Dangerous creatures have been seen nearby.”
Selda scoffed. “There are no dangerous creatures here. Leave.”
The door slammed, echoing through the small cottage.
Aria held her breath. A girl with green eyes? Was he talking about her?
And why now?
Was it connected to her mother’s death? To the strange powers that had been awakening inside her?
Before she could think further, Selda stormed into the storage room, her steps heavy and precise.
“What did you do?” she demanded, eyes blazing.
Aria blinked, voice barely above a whisper. “Aunt Selda, I—I haven’t done anything—”
“People asking about you? Do you know how suspicious that looks? What trouble are you bringing into my house?” Selda’s voice shook slightly.
“I don’t know who that man is, I swear—”
Selda’s gaze sharpened, dangerous, rare, like ice forming over a storm. “You better not bring disgrace to this family, Aria. If something is wrong with you… I’ll know.”
Aria lowered her head quickly. “Yes, Aunt.”
But inside, fear coiled in her stomach like a living thing. Someone was searching for her. Kael was watching her. Her magic was responding to forces she couldn’t control.
Everything was shifting.
She pressed her hands to her lap, feeling the familiar tingle of power that had been her secret and her curse. She could feel it now—stronger, more insistent. The forest, the wolf, the silver eyes… the man searching for a green-eyed girl.
Everything was changing.
And Aria knew, with that sharp certainty that sometimes comes just before everything breaks… her life would never be the same
- Writer
