---
The dream still lingered.
Vivienne stirred beneath her blankets, her skin damp with sweat and her breath shallow. The flickering candle on her windowsill had long melted to a stub, casting faint golden light across her room. She sat up slowly, brushing a loose curl from her face. Her nightdress clung to her back, and her heart still beat far too quickly for the calm morning that greeted her.
She didn't remember the dream in full. Only the forest. Darkness pressing in like breath on skin. The feel of soil beneath her bare feet. And the voice—deep and velvet—like shadow and silk at once.
Lucian.
She whispered it under her breath, as if the name alone could summon him.
Downstairs, the house stirred. Seraphina's voice filtered faintly through the walls, and the soft clang of pans meant their mother was already up. The world moved on, unaware of the shift stirring quietly within her.
---
Elsewhere, in the northern lands of Virelia, the morning light had not yet broken through the grey clouds. The castle stood high and brooding on its cliffside, its towers cutting into the sky like dark spears.
Elias returned in silence.
His horse's hooves echoed faintly on the cobbled stones of the courtyard, where frost still clung to the edges. He dismounted without a word and handed the reins to a servant before stepping inside.
Soren met him in the grand corridor, arms crossed and brow arched. "You're early."
"I left before sunrise," Elias replied evenly.
"You always do." Soren gave a thin smile, then gestured with his chin. "Lucian's been out."
"Where?" Elias asked, though he already suspected.
Soren shrugged. "Where do you think?"
---
Lucian stood near the window of the great hall, his back turned. His arms were crossed behind him, posture composed but unconcerned. The wine in his goblet remained untouched this time.
"You've been visiting the village again," Elias said as he entered.
Lucian didn't turn. "And?"
Elias moved slowly across the room, his presence calm but steady. "Is that wise?"
At that, Lucian turned. His eyes met his brother's, unreadable and glinting with cool amusement. "I can do whatever I want with them, little brother."
The words weren't spoken in anger—but with that effortless carelessness Lucian wore like a second skin. Elias gave a faint nod, lips pressed but silent.
---
In the village square, the air had grown strange.
People gathered in clusters near the market stalls, but there was little laughter. The colors of the day seemed dimmer, the usual rhythm of life slowed to a murmur.
Vivienne passed among them, wrapped in her cloak, her eyes scanning familiar faces twisted with unease. An unconscious man had been found in the woods—his skin cold, his neck marked with strange wounds.
Rumors swirled like leaves on the wind.
"Must be wolves," someone said.
"No wolves do that," another replied. "It's something else—something foul."
"Witchcraft," muttered an old woman by the bread cart. "The forest is cursed again."
Vivienne clutched her basket tighter. She met Seraphina's eyes across the market lane. Her sister's smile was thin.
"Let's go home," Seraphina murmured. "Before Mother sends the entire guard after us."
---
That night, the air in Vivienne's room was still. The wind outside whispered through the trees, and the moon hung low over the rooftops. She stood at her window in her nightgown, staring into the silver-tinged dark.
She thought of him.
Lucian.
She didn't understand what had passed between them. What he was. Why he vanished as though carried by the wind. Why her heart still fluttered when she spoke his name in the silence of her room.
Vivienne touched the wooden frame of the window. The dream, the voice, the lake—it all returned in quiet waves. And yet… there was no fear. Only the feeling that something had begun, something she could not name.
Her heart beat faster.
---