Chapter fourteen
The forest was cold, wet, and endless.
Selene ran.
Her breath came in sharp gasps, her gown torn, her bare feet scraping against roots and sharp stones. Every branch that slapped her skin reminded her she was still alive, still running from the hands that meant to silence her. The bruises throbbed along her ribs, her right shoulder burned from a cut, and her blood was sticky against her torn sleeve. But she didn't stop.
She couldn't stop.
The only sound louder than her footfalls and pounding heart was the rush of wind through the tall trees, and then suddenly, voices.
Familiar ones.
"Selene!"
She blinked. Light, lanterns swaying in the dark.
"Selene!" Mara's voice cracked, desperate. "Princess!"
Selene's eyes widened. She stumbled forward, tears welling despite herself.
"Mara!" she called, her voice hoarse.
And then she saw her, Mara running toward her, skirts flying, expression pale with fear and relief. They met halfway, and Mara threw her arms around her.
"You…You foolish, reckless,! I thought I lost you," Mara wept into her shoulder. "You're bleeding! Look at you!"
Selene didn't answer. She was too tired, too sore, and for the first time in hours… safe.
The guards encircled them instantly, forming a protective ring. Without another word, they returned to Aetherra.
The palace doors flew open.
Queen Elaria rushed into the grand hall barefoot, her silken robe fluttering behind her, eyes wide with panic. When she saw her daughter, her little girl, bruised and covered in ash, she froze.
And then she broke.
"Selene," she whispered, stumbling forward. Her arms wrapped around her daughter like a shield.
King Thalen stepped out from behind the guards. His usual regal calm faltered, his jaw clenched and eyes suspiciously damp. "You're safe… Thank the heavens."
"Fetch the royal physician!" Elaria snapped. "Now!"
They carried Selene to her chambers. Mara didn't leave her side, holding her hand while the physician examined every cut and bruise with expert precision.
Selene hissed as the cold salve touched her ribs. The physician muttered about "unnecessary risks" and "a miracle she wasn't killed," but Selene barely heard him. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling.
Later, the queen tucked her in bed herself, brushing Selene's silver hair gently behind her ear.
"I'll stay until you sleep," she whispered.
Selene nodded. She closed her eyes, breathing slowly, pretending the sleep she didn't feel.
When the queen kissed her forehead and quietly left the room, Selene opened her eyes.
She stared into the shadows.
Who were those men?
What did they want?
And who…she swallowed, eyes narrowing at the memory, who was that cloaked man?
The way he fought, his sword dancing with precision, his strength, his presence… He had appeared from nowhere and saved her without asking anything in return.
A guardian from the shadows.
Suddenly, the room's temperature shifted. The air grew still.
And without warning, the lights snuffed out.
Selene didn't flinch.
She sat upright, heartbeat steady.
From the corner of the room, shadows twisted like smoke, and out of the darkness stepped the cloaked figure.
Just as before, he wore a dark, high-collared cloak. A silver half-mask covered his face from his brow to the bridge of his nose. His golden-brown eyes shimmered under the moonlight slanting in from the windows.
Selene didn't scream.
She leaned forward. "You."
He walked toward her slowly and extended his gloved hand. In his palm sat a small velvet pouch.
She took it.
"What is it?"
"Powdered starroot," he said, voice quiet and deep. "It will heal your injuries faster. Mix it with warm tea before sunrise."
She stared at him, wide-eyed. "Who are you? Why did you save me?"
He said nothing for a moment.
Then, finally, his voice returned, lower, distant, like thunder just over the horizon.
"If you're ever in danger," he said, "all you must do is think of me. And I will come."
Her brows drew together. "Think of you?"
He nodded once. "It is an ancient form of mind-link magic. You need not speak—just summon my name in your thoughts."
"But I don't know your name," she whispered.
His eyes met hers. "You will… when the time is right."
Before she could respond, his body dissolved like smoke caught in wind.
The lights flickered and then returned.
Selene sat frozen, the velvet pouch clutched in her hand.
She had more questions than answers. And now, one more reason to sneak into the palace library at dawn.
Meanwhile, in Elarion…
Caelum stood by the marble window of his high tower, arms folded across his chest as a storm gathered beyond the mountains.
Thorne approached quietly behind him. "News from Aetherra. There was an attempt on Princess Selene's life. Fire at a public event. Assassins. She was found later, alive."
Caelum didn't react. Not outwardly.
He kept his gaze on the storm clouds.
"I see," he murmured.
Thorne tilted his head. "Nothing else?"
Caelum's jaw ticked.
"She survived," he said, more to himself than anyone else.
Thorne didn't speak.
He already knew.
His master had gone to the lower realm for a reason. He had sensed her. Known she would be there.
But even if he wouldn't admit it aloud, Caelum had made a decision the moment he caught her silver hair in the moonlight.
He was watching her now.
Just not too closely.
Yet.