Chapter Two – Ashes and Echoes
ESTELLA,
The forest pressed in around me like a living tomb. A dense, unnatural silence hung over the trees, muting even the whispers of the wind. No rustling leaves, no nocturnal calls, no distant howls—just a breathless hush that made my skin crawl. Each step I took was heavy and uncertain, my legs trembling beneath me, the wound in my side a pulsing agony that burned with every movement. My breath came in short, shallow bursts, every inhale tasting of damp earth, decay, and something older—something long dead and not meant to stir again.
I couldn't stop. Not yet. Not until I understood. Not until I reached the answers I'd bled for.
Raymond's face haunted me—his eyes wide with disbelief, his last breath hot on my skin, and the blood... gods, the blood on my hands. Still fresh in my memory, still staining my soul. I had loved him, and I had buried him. And now I was alone, running from shadows and truths I didn't want to believe.
The snap of a twig behind me made my heart jolt. I froze.
The forest remained still, yet I felt it—that oppressive presence that pressed against my senses like invisible claws. I spun around, breath caught in my throat, but the darkness yielded nothing. Nothing visible, at least. But I knew. Something was watching me. The air had thickened, pulsing with a presence I couldn't name.
And then he stepped into view.
At first, all I saw was a figure cloaked in shadow, tall and silent, as if the forest had shaped him from its darkest corners. He moved like a wraith—soundless, effortless, otherworldly. His silhouette was hard and lean, wrapped in layers of dark fabric that blended seamlessly into the night. His head was hooded, face hidden, but the moment he emerged fully into the moonlight, my breath caught in my throat.
I couldn't move. I couldn't speak.
Because for one shattered second, I thought it was him.
Raymond.
The shape of his shoulders, the way he held himself—the stance, the quiet authority in the way he stood—it was all wrong, and yet so heartbreakingly familiar. My chest constricted. My legs went weak beneath me, and my hand flew to my mouth as tears sprang unbidden to my eyes.
Raymond? No. It couldn't be. He was dead. I had seen his body. I had screamed his name into the void as his blood soaked the altar stones. And yet, standing here, I felt him.
The man tilted his head slightly, as if sensing my confusion.
And then the illusion shattered.
He stepped closer, the moonlight catching the silver scars carved into his skin—brutal and jagged, running down his neck and across his jaw. These were not the smooth lines of a noble warrior. These were the remnants of punishment, of betrayal, of survival. His hood slipped back just enough to reveal his face, and I knew, without question, this wasn't Raymond.
This man was harder. Sharper. His eyes were a piercing green, not the soft hazel of my lost mate. And those eyes—they weren't kind. They were calculating. Cold. A blade honed too many times and left without a sheath.
"I wouldn't move if I were you," he said, his voice low and dangerous, like the hush before a storm. "You'll only make things worse."
I didn't move. Couldn't. My heart thudded against my ribs like a wild thing, but my body refused to listen.
"Who are you?" I asked, the words barely escaping my lips. My voice shook, fragile and broken. The part of me that had believed, even for a second, that Raymond had come back—that he'd found me—that part splintered into nothing.
The man didn't answer immediately. He took another slow step toward me, the weight of his gaze pressing into my chest. The hood fell back fully, revealing the whole of his face—stern and weathered, beautiful in a way that hurt to look at, like a painting smeared with ash.
"You're the one they want," he said finally, his voice as unreadable as his expression. "The one who was supposed to die."
My knees nearly gave out. I staggered back, my hand flying to my side as fresh pain flared through my ribs. "What do you mean?" I rasped. "Who are you?"
His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Kael," he said. "Once a warrior of the Moonbound Court. Now… something else."
The name hit like a blow.
Moonbound.
My fingers clenched around the strap of the satchel slung across my shoulder. The symbol etched into the leather—the crescent moon entwined with a black star—had always felt ominous. A gift from the priestess, she'd said. A token for the future. But now, the way Kael looked at it… as if he'd seen it before. As if it confirmed every dark suspicion he carried.
"That satchel," Kael said, his tone tightening. "It's Court property. Why do you have it?"
"I—" I hesitated. "It was a gift. From the priestess. For my wedding."
His eyes narrowed. "The priestess of Luna Amara?"
I nodded.
His jaw clenched. "Then it's true. You were to marry the heir. You were part of the ceremony."
"Raymond," I whispered, the name like ash on my tongue. "He was the heir."
Kael's expression flickered—just for a heartbeat. A crack in the mask. He knew that name. And there was pain there, buried beneath layers of steel and silence.
"He wasn't meant to die," Kael said finally, voice low. "You were."
I staggered again. "What?"
Kael took a step closer. "The poison. The wolfsbane. It wasn't intended for him. Someone switched the chalices before the blood rite began. You were the target."
My world spun. I dropped to my knees, the forest blurring around me. The memory of that night—the screams, the choking, Raymond collapsing in my arms—it all came rushing back, too vivid, too cruel.
"They killed him," I said numbly. "Right in front of me. Why would they want me dead?"
"Because your bloodline is dangerous," Kael said, kneeling beside me. "You carry something the Court fears. Something they've tried to suppress for centuries. The priestess didn't give you that satchel out of kindness. She gave it to you as a test. And when they saw you'd passed… they tried to erase you."
I couldn't breathe. The truth slammed into me like a tidal wave.
"I remember," I whispered. "I overheard them. Before the ceremony. The priestess said… if I found out, it would all be lost. And someone else asked… what if I already had."
Kael nodded grimly. "They've done this before. To others like you. The moment you become more than they can control, they eliminate you. But something went wrong. Someone tried to save you. Switched the chalices. Raymond… paid the price."
Tears welled in my eyes. "He didn't even know. He thought I betrayed him."
"No," Kael said softly. "He died protecting you. Even if he didn't understand why."
A long silence stretched between us, broken only by the thrum of pain in my side and the ragged rhythm of my breathing.
Finally, Kael stood and extended a hand. "Come. We can't stay here. They'll be hunting you."
I stared at his hand. Rough. Scarred. Blood still dark beneath his fingernails. I hesitated.
"I don't know who I am anymore," I said.
"You're Estella," he said. "And you're not alone anymore. I know what it's like to be cast out. To lose everything. But you still have your fire. And I'll help you find the rest."
I reached up and let him pull me to my feet.
As I rose, something inside me shifted. Not healed. But changed.
"I don't trust you," I said.
"You shouldn't," he replied, deadpan. "But I'm all you've got."
A grim smile tugged at my lips. "Great."
Kael turned, already walking. "There's someone in the north who can help you unlock what's inside that satchel. It's more than a symbol. It's a key."
I looked down at it again, now burning like a brand against my hip.
A map. A curse. A promise.
I followed him into the shadows, the forest closing in once more. But this time, I didn't feel quite so alone.
And as we walked, the echo of Raymond's name still lingered in my heart—but beside it now was another.
Kael.
Not a ghost. Not a replacement.
But maybe… the beginning of something else.
Something stronger.
Something just as broken as me.
And maybe that was enough. For now.