Kael's POV
I had tended wounds before—physical ones.
Slashes from claws, gashes from silver blades, even curses etched in flesh. But I had never touched someone whose every breath tore at something inside me.
Elowen lay on the cot I'd made from furs and softened bark. She was quiet now, but her pain had a presence—an echo in the silence of the cabin.
And her scent… gods, her scent.
Like warm blood and crushed rose petals. Like something I should fear. Something I shouldn't want.
But I did.
I sat across from her, sharpening the edge of my old blade more out of habit than need. Anything to keep my hands busy. Anything to keep my eyes away from her mouth, from the curve of her bare shoulder where the blanket had slipped.
Her skin was bruised, scratched, marked with rejection.
Lucien had done this.
The bastard had cast her out like spoiled meat. I felt it the moment her blood cried into Hollowveil, like a whisper through the trees that pierced my bones.
That's why I brought her here.
That's why I couldn't walk away.
Even if I should have.
A soft rustle made me glance up.
She was watching me.
Our eyes met.
The room contracted.
She tried to sit up, winced, then froze when she realized the blanket had slipped further down her chest.
She grabbed it quickly.
"I'm not looking," I muttered, redirecting my gaze to the fire. Lie.
"You kind of are."
There was a bite in her voice. Not sharp. More like… wounded pride.
"I've seen worse," I said, standing. My voice came out rougher than I intended.
"And I've been through worse," she countered.
I paused.
Turned back.
She was upright now, back leaning against the cabin wall, clutching the blanket like armor. Her face pale. Eyes stubborn.
Strong.
Beautiful.
Too damn beautiful.
"I can go if you want," she said suddenly.
My jaw clenched. "Don't be stupid."
"Then stop looking at me like you regret bringing me here."
I blinked.
Her words hit harder than they should have. Because maybe I did regret it—not because I didn't want her here, but because I wanted her too much.
"You should rest," I said instead. "You lost a lot of blood."
"I didn't lose as much as I thought I had," she murmured. "Maybe Hollowveil gave some back."
I froze.
She felt it.
The magic.
The forest had accepted her.
That wasn't supposed to happen.
"Why did you bring me here, Kael?"
I should've lied.
Instead, I walked toward her, stopping just a foot away. She tilted her head up to meet my gaze. Her breath caught.
"I don't know," I said honestly.
"Try again."
I hesitated.
Then—"Because when I felt you break, something in me broke too."
The words hung heavy in the air.
She didn't speak. Just watched me. Like she was trying to see through every layer I'd buried.
"I'm not yours to save," she said quietly.
"And yet you're still here."
I reached out—reflex, not reason—and pushed a strand of hair away from her face.
She didn't pull away.
My fingertips brushed her cheek. Soft. Warm. Real.
And suddenly, I was drowning in it—in her.
I dropped my hand. Stepped back. "I'll make tea."
"Coward," she said softly behind me.
I laughed. It surprised both of us.
"Fine," I said, turning halfway. "What would you call a man who brings home a girl with blood magic in her veins, lets her sleep in his bed, and can't even look at her without losing control?"
She didn't answer.
She didn't have to.
Because the next moment, she stood. The blanket fell around her shoulders, still shielding her, but she stepped forward—closer. Braver.
"We can pretend this isn't happening," she whispered. "Or we can admit there's something here neither of us understands."
I stared at her.
Her eyes searched mine, vulnerable and unrelenting.
My hand lifted on its own, hovering near her face again.
But I didn't touch.
I couldn't.
Because if I did…
I wouldn't stop.
So instead, I stepped back again, retreating behind the walls I had spent years building.
"I don't understand it," I murmured. "And things I don't understand… they get people killed."
She flinched.
A shadow passed behind her eyes. But then she nodded, turned away, and walked back to the cot without a word.
I wanted to call her back.
But I didn't.
Because the shadows between us weren't just fear or desire.
They were truths we weren't ready to speak.
Not yet.
---
That night, I watched her sleep.
Not because I wanted to.
But because I couldn't look away.
She twitched in her dreams, murmuring words in a tongue even the forest didn't know. Her skin shimmered faintly, and I could feel the pulse of something ancient circling her like mist.
She was changing.
And I wasn't sure if I was meant to protect her—
—or be the one she'd have to destroy.
The fire had burned low, casting flickers of orange against the cabin walls. Outside, Hollowveil murmured in its sleep, the trees swaying like they carried secrets too heavy to hold.
Inside, I tried not to breathe too loudly.
Elowen stirred beneath the furs. Her breathing was light but uneven, like her dreams were chasing her.
I moved closer—quiet, deliberate.
Her skin gleamed faintly in the firelight, beads of sweat on her brow. I knelt beside her and dipped a cloth into the cool water from the basin.
When I touched her forehead, she flinched—but didn't wake.
"Elowen…" I whispered, brushing the damp cloth gently across her temple. "It's just me."
Her lips parted. She whispered something I couldn't quite hear.
I leaned closer.
"…don't leave."
My heart twisted.
I should've. I should've walked away the moment I felt her blood call mine in the clearing. But I couldn't. Not when she looked like this—strong even in her sleep, and yet soft in a way that pulled everything sharp out of me.
I brushed her hair back, fingers trembling. The moment lingered too long. I pulled away before the bond tried to wake again.
I stood to return the cloth when I heard her whimper—then gasp.
"Elowen?" I turned back.
She sat bolt upright, eyes wide, lips trembling.
"It's here," she whispered. "The shadow."
I froze.
"What shadow?"
Her gaze met mine. "You."
Silence.
For one moment, I thought she was speaking metaphorically. Until I saw her eyes flicker—not with fear, but recognition.
"What did you see?" I asked, carefully sitting on the edge of the cot.
She blinked, then looked down at her hands. "You… but not you. Standing in the trees, bleeding. Your eyes were gold. But behind you… something else. Wrapped around you like chains made of shadow."
I said nothing.
Because she'd just described a vision I'd had since childhood. One that came every year on the Blood Moon. A vision I had never shared.
Her voice broke. "It wanted me to choose. Between saving you… or saving myself."
I inhaled sharply. "That wasn't a dream."
Her gaze snapped up.
"It was a memory," I said. "Or maybe a warning. The magic in Hollowveil… it doesn't lie."
She looked pale. "What does it mean?"
I didn't answer.
Because the truth was… I didn't know.
But I felt it. The bond between us wasn't ordinary. It wasn't just blood-magic or destiny. It was old. Older than me. Older than this land.
And it was waking.
"Elowen," I said, more gently than I meant to, "show me your back."
She blinked. "What?"
"The mark," I said. "I saw it earlier. Near your shoulder blade. It shimmered when I brought you in. I thought it was dried blood, but…"
Reluctantly, she shifted. Let the blanket slip down. Turned slightly so I could see.
And I stopped breathing.
A symbol glowed faintly across her skin. Not ink, not scar—but something etched into her soul. A crescent moon crossed by thorns and runes I hadn't seen in centuries.
Gods.
I reached toward it, but my hand hesitated.
"Elowen," I whispered, "where did you get this?"
"I… I don't know. It's always been there, but it never glowed before."
Of course it hadn't.
Because it was dormant.
Until now.
I traced the edges without touching her skin. My breath shuddered.
"I've seen this symbol before," I murmured. "In the ruins beneath the temple. It's older than the Council, older than even the First Pack."
She looked over her shoulder. "What does it mean?"
I looked into her eyes.
"It means," I said softly, "you're not just a girl cast aside by your mate, Elowen."
I swallowed hard. My voice dropped.
"It means you're something the forest has been waiting for."
Her lips parted in disbelief. "You think I'm some kind of chosen one?"
"No," I said. "I think you're a threat. And a promise. Both at once."
We stared at each other.
And in that moment, the tension between us shifted—no longer just from confusion or attraction, but from fate.
The air thickened.
I stood slowly. "You should sleep. We'll speak more in the morning."
But as I turned to walk away, her fingers brushed mine.
I froze.
"Kael."
Her voice was a whisper in the dark. "Thank you. For not letting me die."
I turned to her. Her eyes were wide, shining with something I couldn't name. Gratitude. Sadness. Or maybe… longing.
Before I could stop myself, I leaned down and pressed my forehead to hers.
We didn't kiss.
But it felt like more than a kiss—like a vow made in silence.
A promise between the shadows.
---
I didn't sleep that night.
Instead, I stood by the doorway, watching Hollowveil twist in the dark.
And behind me, her breath rose and fell, steady and alive.
But something deep in the forest stirred.
Something old.
Something bound to blood.
And it whispered her name.