Elara awoke to the smell of rain and smoke. For a moment, she didn't know where she was. Her head throbbed, and when she tried to sit up, the room tilted. The cabin around her was small, its walls patched with old timber, its windows clouded by frost. A fire crackled softly in the corner.
Lucien sat nearby, sharpening a blade that caught the light in silver flashes. He looked different in the quiet. No longer the monster who had torn through men and moonlight, but a man weighed down by centuries.
"You're awake," he said without looking up. His voice was calm, distant.
"How long have I been asleep?"
"Two days. You had a fever. You called out names I didn't recognize."
Her heart stuttered. "What names?"
"Amara," he said simply, and finally met her eyes.
Elara froze. "I don't know anyone by that name."
"I do." He turned back to the fire. "She was the one who cursed me."
The air thickened between them. Elara pulled the blanket tighter around herself. She remembered the dream, the crimson gown, the ballroom, the woman who looked like her but wasn't. It hadn't felt like a dream at all.
"I saw her," Elara whispered. "I saw her with you."
Lucien's hand stopped mid-motion. The fire popped loudly, scattering tiny sparks across the hearth. "Describe her."
Elara hesitated. "Long dark hair. Eyes like… wine in sunlight. She said something before she turned to ash. She said, 'He will always return to me.'"
Lucien's expression hardened. "Then it's begun."
"What has?"
"The curse reforming." He stood and began pacing the narrow room. "Every time it reawakens, it finds a vessel. A mirror of what was lost. This time, it's you."
"I didn't ask for this," she said, her voice trembling.
"Neither did I," he answered quietly. "But fate doesn't ask permission."
Silence filled the room again. Outside, the rain grew heavier, drumming against the roof like steady footsteps.
Finally, she asked, "Can it be broken?"
Lucien looked at her for a long moment. "Once, I believed so. But every attempt ends in death."
Elara looked down at her hands. Her skin seemed paler than before, her veins faintly visible under the firelight. "Then what happens to me?"
"If we stay together, the bond will strengthen. If we separate, the curse might consume us both."
"So there's no way out."
"Not one that doesn't cost something," he said.
She watched the firelight dance across his face, highlighting the sharp edges of sorrow that never faded. There was something almost human in his eyes now, regret, maybe even fear.
Lucien turned away and began to extinguish the flame. "Rest. We move at dawn."
Elara lay back, staring at the roof beams, her mind spinning. She could feel his presence even from across the room, like a heartbeat that wasn't her own. When sleep finally claimed her, it came swift and heavy.
She dreamed again.
This time, she stood in an ancient hall filled with mirrors. In each reflection, she saw a different version of herself, one in silk, one in bloodstained armor, one crying as fire rose behind her.
At the end of the hall stood Lucien, unchanged, watching her with sorrow in his eyes.
"Why do you keep finding me?" she asked.
His reflection smiled faintly. "Because you keep calling my name."
She woke with a start, heart hammering, the sound of rain gone silent. Lucien was gone, and through the cracked door, she saw the forest outside bathed in misty silver light.
Only then did she notice the faint red mark forming on her wrist.. shaped like the crescent of the blood moon.