The devil's vow

The wind whispered her name before anyone else ever did. Long before she understood what she was, before she even knew her own face in the mirror, the woods had called her there—luring her with the kind of silence that wasn’t quiet at all. The kind that watched. It was winter when it happened. Snow fell in fragile flakes that stuck to her lashes and hair, dusting her cloak like powdered sugar. The frost had silenced the village bells, dulled the scent of wood smoke, and turned even the loudest children into hushed ghosts. But Evelyn had wandered far past the boundaries of the village. Past where the trees grew too tightly together, their branches twisted like claws trying to hold secrets inside. She was no older than six, barefoot, her breath a white cloud against the biting air. She should’ve felt cold, but she didn’t. She followed a sound. Not footsteps. Not birds. Not the rustle of deer. A voice. Or maybe many, layered over one another like forgotten lullabies. Soft. Sweet. "Come closer..." There was something beautiful and terrible in that sound. Something not meant for her ears—but she listened anyway. She didn’t remember walking into the circle of stones, though later they’d say there was no such place. But she saw them—twelve, tall as men, covered in runes she couldn’t read. Snow refused to touch them. At their center, a single rose bloomed, vibrant red against the white. And behind the rose—him. He stood still, silent. Tall. Not a boy, not yet a man. Dressed in black that swallowed the light, his eyes an unnatural shade of crimson that pulsed like a wound. She didn’t scream. She only stared. He didn’t speak, but she heard him—inside her head. "You shouldn’t be here." Her heart pounded, but she didn’t move. Not even when the shadows around him shifted—like they were alive. Watching her. Waiting. He took a step forward. She blinked—and the world went black. When she woke up, she was in her bed. Her mother’s hands were trembling. Her father’s face pale. Her brothers hovered in the doorway, wide-eyed. She had been gone for hours. There were no footprints in the snow. And she remembered… nothing. Nothing except a red-eyed boy. And a voice that whispered: “You’ll remember when it’s time.”