Into the Wilderwood

The night was heavy with silence, broken only by the crackle of the Inquisitors’ campfires beyond the village. Their watchful glow made Elara’s skin crawl. She lay awake on her straw mattress, staring at the low rafters of the healer’s cottage, her mother’s words pressing on her chest like a weight.

If they search again tomorrow… you must run.

Elara wanted to argue, to refuse, but in her heart she already knew her mother was right. The Inquisitors would not leave. They never left until they had blood or fire to appease them.

The image of Rowan’s sly smile haunted her. He had not spoken her name, not yet—but he would, if it suited him. The Crown rewarded informants well. All it would take was one whisper from him, and she and her mother would both burn.

Elara’s hands trembled as she sat up. Her satchel already lay packed—her mother had done it silently while Elara pretended to sleep. Dried herbs, a flask of water, a cloak, and the small knife her father had left before vanishing into war years ago.

Her mother knelt by the hearth, face lit by fading embers. “The Wilderwood is not kind,” she said softly, not looking up. “But it is freer than this village will ever be. Go before dawn. While they still sleep.”

Elara swallowed hard. “Come with me.”

Alenya’s head shook once. “If I go, they’ll hunt us both harder. I can mislead them here. Buy you time.”

“No” Elara’s throat burned. “I can’t leave you.”

Her mother finally looked at her, eyes glistening in the firelight. “You must. The gift you carry… it was never meant to rot in hiding. But if you stay, it will die with you.” She cupped Elara’s cheek, thumb brushing away a tear. “Live, Elara. That is the only way I can bear this.”

Elara pressed her face against her mother’s hand, committing the warmth to memory. She wanted to argue again, but there were no words left. Only the ache of leaving everything she had ever known.

When the first gray light touched the sky, Elara slipped into the mist-drenched streets. The village was still, the world holding its breath. She pulled her cloak tighter, hood low over her face, and hurried past shuttered windows. Beyond the last cottage, the Wilderwood waited.

The forest greeted her with silence. Its trees rose tall and twisted, their trunks gnarled like the fingers of ancient giants. Mist coiled around the roots, and faint glimmers of silver light darted between the branches as if the moon itself had scattered pieces of its glow here.

Elara paused at the edge, heart pounding. She had heard every story—the Wilderwood devoured men whole, filled with spirits, beasts, and roads that led nowhere but madness. To step inside was to gamble one’s soul.

But behind her lay fire. Ahead, at least, there was a chance of survival.

She stepped forward.

The forest swallowed her whole.

By midday, her legs ached and her satchel weighed heavy. She followed a faint deer trail, but the deeper she went, the more the forest seemed to twist. Trees leaned unnaturally close, and every path looked the same.

A howl broke the silence.

Elara froze.

It came again, closer this time—a deep, hungry sound that rolled through the mist. Wolves. She quickened her pace, clutching her knife, though she knew it was a poor defense.

The underbrush rustled behind her. She spun just as a shadow lunged from the mist—a massive wolf, its fur black as pitch, eyes glowing faintly red.

Elara’s breath caught. She stumbled back, knife trembling in her grip. The wolf snarled, lips curling over jagged teeth, and padded closer.

Her heart raced. She could run, but it would catch her. She could fight, but her knife was nothing against its bulk.

Her only chance was moonfire.

Elara’s hand shook as she raised it, silver light flickering faintly at her fingertips. The wolf growled, hackles rising at the glow. She drew a shaky breath, ready to release it.

Steel flashed.

A sword swept through the air, slamming into the wolf’s flank. The beast yelped, staggering back. Another figure emerged from the mist, tall and broad-shouldered, moving with the precision of a predator.

“Stay down,” the man barked, not looking at her.

Elara dropped to the ground as the wolf lunged again. The man met it with his blade, striking clean across its throat. The beast collapsed, crimson spilling into the roots. Its glowing eyes flickered once before dimming to nothing.

Silence fell, heavy and abrupt.

Elara’s chest heaved. She clutched her knife with trembling hands, staring at the stranger. His cloak was dark, frayed at the edges, his hair falling in black strands streaked faintly with silver. His face was angular, marked by a scar along his jaw. And his eyes—blue, sharp as frost—fixed on her with unnerving intensity.

She knew him.

The figure from the night before. The one who had warned her.

“You,” she whispered.

He lowered his sword, but did not sheath it. “You’re reckless,” he said flatly. “Wolves hunt blood. And you bleed fear.”

Elara bristled, pushing herself to her feet. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Good,” he said. “Because I didn’t give it for you.”

Her brow furrowed. “Then why?”

His gaze lingered on her hands, where faint traces of moonlight still glimmered before she clenched them shut. His expression tightened.

“You carry danger with you,” he said, voice low. “If the Inquisitors don’t kill you, the forest will.”

Elara’s pulse quickened. “Who are you?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then: “Kael.”

The name hung in the mist like a blade unsheathed.

Elara’s grip tightened on her knife, though she knew it was useless. “And why are you here?”

His jaw clenched. “Because fate is cruel. And it seems it has tethered me to yours.”

She blinked, startled by the bitterness in his tone. Before she could question him, the distant sound of hooves echoed faintly through the forest. The Inquisitors.

Kael’s eyes flicked toward the sound, then back to her. “If you want to live,” he said, voice sharp, “you’ll follow me.”

Elara hesitated. She didn’t trust him—not his cold eyes, not the way he seemed to know her secret. But behind them, the Inquisitors drew closer.

And in that moment, she realized she had no choice.

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