The fire crackled steadily now, its warmth pushing back the cold mist seeping through the cabin walls, but the tension inside felt sharper than the mountain air outside. Lucian didn't sit. He moved with restless precision—checking the windows, adjusting the barricade on the door, sharpening the blade that had been laid across the table since the moment they arrived.
Asher watched him, arms wrapped around himself. The locket lay cold against his chest again, but something beneath his skin wouldn't stop humming. Like a pulse… but not his own.
"Lucian," he said quietly, "that man—Orion. You know him."
Lucian paused only a heartbeat, then resumed tightening the strap on his gauntlet. "Yes."
"And you don't trust him."
A humorless breath escaped Lucian's nose. "Orion serves the Council. He bows to their rules even when he disagrees with them. He warned us tonight because he still remembers what loyalty *is supposed to mean*… but that doesn't make him an ally."
Asher let that settle, though confusion still curved inside him like a question with no shape. "He said Cassandra wasn't the only one after me."
"No," Lucian said, voice lowering. "She's only the most dangerous."
That didn't make Asher feel any better.
Lucian sheathed the sword, the motion smooth, controlled. "Try to rest. We move at sunrise."
Asher glanced toward the small cot near the fire. "What about you?"
"I don't sleep on nights like this."
Asher hesitated, then stepped closer. "Because you're worried?"
Lucian finally looked at him—not the guarded warrior stare, but something quieter, stripped of centuries of masks. "Because I can't afford to make a mistake with you."
The words hit Asher harder than he expected. Not romantically… not yet. But deeply. Sharply. Like someone had placed a hand over his heart and told it not to rush.
He sat down on the cot, pulling the blanket over his legs. Lucian stood near the window, watching the treeline as if shadows themselves were plotting.
Minutes stretched.
The forest outside shifted.
A branch cracked—too heavy to be an animal.
Lucian stiffened. "They're early."
Asher's breath caught. "The hunters?"
"Not hunters," Lucian murmured, eyes narrowing. "Something else."
Another sound—low, dragging, like footsteps that didn't belong to anything human.
Lucian grabbed his sword and motioned toward the back wall. "Stay behind me. Don't run unless I tell you."
Asher rose, pulse hammering in his ears. The locket burned suddenly, searing against his chest. He gasped, clutching it through his shirt.
Lucian spun to him instantly. "Asher—what's wrong?"
"It's—hot," Asher choked out. "Something's… reacting."
The door shuddered.
Once.
Then again—harder.
Lucian stepped forward, blade raised, crimson energy flickering faintly around his hand.
The third impact splintered the wood.
"Asher," Lucian ordered without turning, "if I fall—you run. Don't argue."
Asher swallowed the panic rising in his throat.
The door cracked open—
And a shadowed figure slipped inside, silent as mist, eyes glowing with unnatural gold.
Not a hunter.
Not a scout.
Something far, far worse.
Lucian whispered a single word under his breath—one Asher had never heard him use.
"…damn."
To be continued....