Chapter 2: The Distance That Hurts
1641 Words
Lyria’s POV
Night settled fast in the Shadowwood, smothering the last trace of light as if the forest preferred darkness over anything resembling day. Lyria had never liked how quickly the canopy swallowed the sky here, but tonight the sensation felt worse—too much like being shut inside with no way out.
Kael didn’t say anything after his final words in the clearing. He simply turned away from her, scanning the path ahead as though searching for threats that might use the cover of night to approach. The forest remained still, but it wasn’t the peaceful kind of still. It felt like the woods were watching both of them, withholding breath and waiting for a shift neither of them understood.
Lyria stayed where she was, partly because she didn’t trust her legs to move—not when the warmth beneath her ribs continued pulsing with a steady, unnatural rhythm. She’d tried pressing her palm to the spot earlier, hoping the sensation would fade, but all it did was flare harder, as if reacting to Kael’s presence.
She hated that.
She hated feeling anything influenced by someone else.
Kael finally spoke, his tone even but carrying a weight she hadn’t noticed before. “We shouldn’t stay exposed. The beasts move more freely after dark.”
Beasts. Plural.
Her stomach tightened.
He shifted his shoulders slightly, glancing back at her to check whether she followed. His eyes glowed in the dim light—red, faint but distinct, even without moonlight reaching them. The color wasn’t violent, just unnatural, a reminder of who he was and what the curse had done to him.
Lyria inhaled slowly and took a few steps backward, testing a theory she wished would prove her wrong.
The moment she put more than a few paces between them, the warmth in her chest sharpened into a sudden stab of heat—too quick, too intense. She gasped, hand flying to her sternum as the pain spread deeper, tugging as if an invisible thread tightened inside her.
Kael turned toward her instantly.
“Don’t.” His voice held a sharper edge now. “Move back.”
She couldn’t speak at first. The ache wasn’t unbearable, but it was so sudden that it knocked the breath from her lungs. She forced herself forward, each step dulling the sharpness until the heat sank into a low throb again.
Kael watched her with narrowed eyes—not angry, but focused, trying to understand what he felt. When she stopped at a safer distance, he let out a slow breath through his nose.
“So it’s distance-based.” He spoke as if confirming something to himself rather than explaining it to her.
Lyria steadied her breathing. “If I step too far… it hurts.”
“It hurts me as well,” he admitted reluctantly.
She hadn’t expected honesty. Not from him. Not from a king who had every reason to hide weakness.
“Is that normal for your curse?” she asked quietly.
“No.” His answer was immediate.
Another small tremor moved through the ground—but this time, she realized, it wasn’t him approaching or retreating. It was something inside him. The curse answered proximity the way a wounded animal reacted to being touched—flinching, flaring, then settling when she stayed near.
Lyria exhaled shakily.
“I don’t want to be tied to this,” she said.
He looked at her with a heaviness she didn’t expect. “Neither do I.”
For a moment, there was no hostility between them—just two people caught in the same problem, neither of them knowing how to undo it.
Kael finally broke the silence. “There’s a hollow ahead. If we make it before full dark, we can take shelter.”
She hesitated, not because she feared him, but because walking behind him or beside him felt like surrendering control she didn’t have. Yet staying in this clearing felt worse.
Wordlessly, she followed.
The forest path narrowed, forcing them closer together. His presence was… heavy, like standing near a fire that gave heat without flame. Lyria kept a careful distance—close enough to avoid pain, far enough not to feel like she shadowed his steps.
His voice emerged after several minutes of silence. “This connection—have you felt anything like it before?”
“No.”
“Has anyone touched your magic recently?”
She shook her head.
“Has your magic ever reacted physically?”
“Not like this.”
Her answers were short, but he didn’t seem bothered. He walked with the measured gait of someone who scanned every sound, every shift in the forest. It was clear he was used to being hunted—or hunting something else.
Occasionally, the warmth inside her chest pulsed harder, and Kael’s shoulders tensed as if he felt it too. She didn’t understand what it meant. She didn’t want to understand. She only wanted to get out of these woods, away from whatever force bound them together.
Eventually, the trees broke enough to reveal a shallow cave tucked beneath a sloping rock formation. Kael stopped at the entrance, scanning the darkness.
“It’s clear,” he said.
Lyria stepped inside cautiously. The cave wasn’t deep—just wide enough to provide cover and prevent the cold night air from freezing her bones. She set her satchel down near the wall and rubbed her arms, trying to warm herself.
Kael remained near the entrance for a moment longer, listening to something she couldn’t hear. His posture remained straight and alert, even as the shadows crept further into the cave.
Finally, he entered and stood a few feet away, giving her space. Enough to show restraint. Not enough to risk triggering the curse.
Lyria swallowed quietly. “What happens if I do go farther? What if I push through the pain and leave?”
He met her eyes without looking away. “I would follow.”
It wasn’t a threat or a promise. Just a fact.
“And if you didn’t?” she pressed.
“The curse would force it,” he said. “In ways I would prefer not to test with you standing in front of me.”
She looked down at her hands, feeling the faint tremble in them. Not from fear—fear would have been simpler. This was the discomfort of losing control over a situation she had fought so long to manage.
“Does it still hurt?” she asked quietly. “Now, I mean.”
Kael flexed his fingers. The scars along his knuckles glimmered faintly in the dim light. “Less. The pain subsides when you stay close.”
She sat on the cave floor, not liking the implication but too tired to stand upright much longer. Her limbs ached from days of travel, and her throat burned with thirst she hadn’t addressed.
Kael shifted his stance. “You should rest.”
“I’ll rest when I understand what this is.”
A humorless breath left him—almost a half laugh, almost frustration. “Then neither of us will sleep tonight.”
Lyria looked up.
He had removed one of his gauntlets, revealing scars across his forearm—thick, jagged marks that glowed faintly beneath the skin in irregular patterns. They were not natural. They pulsed with a rhythm that wasn’t entirely aligned with his heartbeat.
Her voice softened unintentionally. “Does it hurt?”
“Not unless the curse flares.”
“When does it flare?”
Kael’s eyes darkened. “When I lose control. When something threatens the balance. When the bond pulls.”
She stiffened. “Bond?”
He paused, as if choosing his next words with care. “I don’t know if it is a bond. But the pull behaves like one.”
She didn’t like that. She didn’t like the word bond, didn’t like what it suggested, didn’t like the paths her mind took when she considered the meaning.
“I don’t want that,” she murmured.
“I don’t want it either,” he said quietly.
The admission surprised her more than anything else tonight.
Outside, a distant howl broke the stillness—long, low, and unmistakably predatory.
Kael moved closer to the cave entrance again, body rigid.
“They’re near,” he said. “The same beasts from earlier. Drawn to my curse. They won’t enter the cave, but they’ll wait outside until dawn.”
“So we’re trapped.”
“A temporary trap,” he said.
Lyria hugged her knees to her chest, feeling exhaustion settle into her bones. Not just physical exhaustion—emotional, mental, the kind that made her want to curl in on herself and shut the world out.
Kael watched her for a long moment. Not in judgment. Not in dominance. Simply observing, as if trying to understand the shape of the person fate had forced into his life.
“Sleep if you can,” he said. “I’ll keep watch.”
She hesitated. Trust didn’t come easily to her—not even in trivial moments. Sleeping near a cursed Lycan King should have felt unthinkable.
But the pain in her chest had dulled. Her limbs felt heavy. And for the first time since entering the forest, the world around her felt like it had stopped spinning.
She shifted slightly, lying sideways on the cool stone floor. Her eyelids closed before she could stop them. The last thing she saw was Kael standing near the cave entrance—silent, still, and watching the night with an intensity that looked almost protective.
As she drifted toward darkness, the warmth beneath her ribs flickered once more, aligning with the faint glow in Kael’s scars.
She hated that the rhythm comforted her.
She hated even more that she didn’t resist it.
- Writer
