---
The lake glistened softly beneath the morning light, its surface rippling as though it held secrets too old to speak. Vivienne stood still, her boots brushing the edge of the water. The memory of her last visit lingered—peaceful, quiet—until now.
Behind her, a sudden presence. Not a sound of footfall, yet she felt it. As she turned, her breath caught in her throat.
Lucian stood there.
His dark eyes found hers with quiet amusement. That same unsettling calm, the kind that made one forget how to breathe.
"Vivienne," he said.
She blinked, startled. "You remember?"
He tilted his head, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "It is not a name one forgets."
A silence passed between them, not awkward but heavy with something unspoken. Her heart thudded strangely. "I never did ask your name," she murmured.
Lucian stepped closer. With a gentle hand at her waist, he turned her so she now faced the lake. Her back brushed his chest. His voice was just beside her ear.
"The lake is beautiful this morning…" he said, "but not nearly as beautiful as you."
Vivienne swallowed, unable to respond. Her breath hitched. She could feel the warmth of his hand, the brush of his words down her spine.
But before she could turn to face him again—before she could ask what all of this meant—she felt a rush of cold wind. A strange hush settled over the forest.
Then—gone.
Lucian had vanished.
But not without a whisper, carried in the breeze just before the silence.
"…Lucian."
—---
Back in the dark halls of his castle, Lucian moved like a shadow returned home. His arms folded behind him, a satisfied smirk resting easily on his lips as he passed the arched corridors and stone pillars.
From the stairwell, Soren approached with his usual lazy stride, his goblet half-full with crimson.
"Well then," Soren drawled, eyeing his brother with mischief. "Looks like someone's found himself a new favourite."
Lucian raised an eyebrow, his smirk never wavering. "Maybe."
"Just 'maybe?'" Soren chuckled. "She's not like the others, is she?"
Lucian said nothing, merely let the silence speak for him as he turned down the corridor, the sound of his boots echoing faintly.
—---
By nightfall, whispers ran through the village like fire through dry leaves.
A man had been found in the forest, unconscious—pale as a ghost, breath shallow. Strange punctures marred the side of his neck. Some said it was an animal. Others murmured of spirits, or that it was a punishment for sins left unchecked.
"Witchcraft," one woman muttered near the baker's stall.
"No," another said grimly. "A demon, surely."
"Or the woods themselves have cursed us."
No one said the word. None dared.
Baron Edevan called for an urgent gathering in the great hall that evening. Lanterns flickered, voices rose, concern and confusion thick in the air. Meanwhile, behind closed doors, Alura Edevan had already barred the windows and locked the door of her daughters' room.
"No arguments," she said sharply as she handed Seraphina a candle. "Leave this lit, no matter what. And keep your eyes open. If anything happens, shout for me."
"Yes, Mother," the girls said together.
Vivienne sat silently on the edge of her bed, heart still full from the morning's encounter—yet chilled by the evening's news.
Later that night, long after the candles had burned low, she fell into a restless sleep.
—---
In the dream, she ran.
Barefoot. Alone. The forest was endless and dark, trees stretching like claws into the sky. Something moved just beyond her reach—whether it fled from her or chased her, she couldn't tell.
Branches tore at her dress. Her feet ached. Still, she ran.
Then, a voice.
Low. Smooth. Like velvet laced with shadow.
"Vivienne…"
She gasped and stumbled, heart racing.
It was him.
Lucian.
His voice wrapped around her, familiar and terrifying, like something forbidden calling her name in the depths of the night.
She turned in the dream—but the forest vanished, swallowed by darkness.
Vivienne woke with a cry, sitting upright in bed. Her breath came in sharp gasps. Sweat clung to her brow. The candle beside her flickered as if in answer.
She touched her chest, her heart pounding beneath her palm.
"Why…?" she whispered.
Why was he in her dreams?
---