Night after night, the forest felt like a dream suspended in time. Moonlight filtered through the thick canopy, casting shifting shadows across the mossy stones in front of the cabin. Inside, a faint aroma lingered in the air, the hearthlight flickering soft and low—everything drowned in a tranquility that never wished to wake.
Aedan still lived a life that felt more like captivity.
Every day, Elaris prepared warm dinners for him, combed his hair, mended his clothes. Whenever his thoughts grew restless, she would gently touch his forehead and whisper incantations that soothed his spirit—she seemed to want nothing more than to keep him hidden in her palm, sheltered for eternity.
And her kisses—those soft as feathers, hot as flame—had once left Aedan utterly spellbound. He had been lost in her beauty, her tenderness, convinced he'd been reborn into a dream.
But dreams, inevitably, end.
Days stretched like an endless black ribbon—no bends, no breaks. He yearned for voices, for faces, for a glimpse beyond the haunted woods, even just the smoke from a distant village hearth.
Yet each time he mentioned "leaving," Elaris would fall silent. Her voice remained sweet, her embrace tender, as she whispered at his ear, "Aedan, don't leave me. The world out there… isn't worth touching."
She never got angry—only held him tighter, kissed him deeper, smothered every doubt and protest with her body. Aedan often lost himself in the heat of those embraces, his heartbeat thundering. But when the passion cooled, the cage grew clearer.
Three months passed. Even the sweetest touch could no longer fill the void within him.
That evening, Elaris was in her underground lab, brewing a potion called Moon's Tear—a concoction said to preserve a corpse and strengthen the dead. Smoke rolled thickly from the stone cracks, masking the world beyond.
Aedan stood by the door, tightening his boots.
He knew the path—he had watched her unlock the wards, memorized the narrow trails winding through the woods. He brought nothing, save for the crystal pendant always hanging at his chest.
He slipped through the trees with featherlight steps. Dew dampened his trousers, but he didn't care. The breeze caressed his skin like freedom's breath. However fleeting, it felt like life.
But just as he passed a tangle of bonevines, a familiar chill descended.
"Where are you going, Aedan?"
Her voice was no longer soft—it was a blade of frost, slicing into his spine from behind.
Aedan spun around. Elaris stood in the mist, no cloak, only her black robes snapping in the wind. Her eyes held no tenderness—only cold, hollow rage.
He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.
Elaris raised her hand. An invisible force yanked him backward, slamming him into the house. The door slammed shut behind him, glowing runes sealing every exit.
She stared at him, her expression a storm of anger and heartbreak—a betrayal too deep for words.
"Why?" she whispered. "You promised… you'd stay with me."
"I just… I just wanted some air," he stammered. "I wasn't escaping… really…"
She shook her head.
With a flick of her fingers, a ghostly chain of pale grey light coiled around his wrists, pinning him to the wall. He cried out—the links burned through soul and flesh, every struggle tearing at something deeper.
Elaris stepped closer, her gaze like ice.
"I don't like punishing you, Aedan. But you need to understand what loyalty means."
Her hand slid across his chest. A chill surged into his bones, peeling at his soul. He writhed, gasping, "Please… don't… Elaris… I'm sorry…"
She paused. Her brow furrowed.
"…Are you crying?"
She leaned in and kissed the tears from his cheek, her gentleness returned—like the cruelty had never happened.
"You're too fragile," she murmured, holding him tight, part lover, part warning. "This world would rip you apart, Aedan. Only I will protect you. Always."
She tended his wounds, applied rare soul-herbs, spoon-fed him broth. She kissed his brow and whispered, "Aedan… don't leave me again. Don't make me sad."
Aedan looked at her, his heart drowning in confusion. He didn't know whether to fear her or pity her. But that night, he could not sleep.
In days wrapped in velvet chains, every kiss became a shackle.
He grew restless, sleepless. He longed to escape—but feared the price of defiance.
Still, at last, a chance came.