The trees whispered ancient secrets as the wind moved through the Forest of Virelle. Amber stepped carefully over moss-covered roots, her fingers brushing the smooth bark of an old cedar, her senses alert. She had never strayed this far from Eldwyn Hollow before. The forest was sacred—rumored to be alive, and more than one villager had gone missing after venturing too deep.
But something had called her here.
It wasn't a voice, not quite. It was more like a pulse beneath her skin, a soft hum that had started days ago, growing stronger with each passing hour. It tugged at her dreams and pulled her out of bed before dawn, until she couldn't ignore it anymore.
She should have told someone. But what would she say? That the wind was singing her name?
Amber tightened her grip on her shawl, wrapping it tighter around her shoulders. The air was colder here. Older. She was about to turn back when she heard it—a sharp crack of branches up ahead. Her heart stilled. She crouched low, instinctively pressing her back to a tree.
Voices. No… one voice. Low. Rough. Cursing.
She peeked around the trunk.
A man.
He was kneeling beside a fallen horse, his dark hair wild, jaw clenched in frustration. Blood streaked down one arm and soaked the side of his tunic. A sword hung at his back, and he moved like someone used to battle—danger wrapped in flesh.
Amber's breath caught.
He was beautiful in a way that made her chest ache. Dangerous, like the first bite of frost before winter takes hold. And he didn't belong here.
Outsider.
Her village hadn't had visitors in months, maybe years. The last patrol from the borderlands had warned of rising tensions with the Shadow Realms, a kingdom far to the west—ruthless and power-hungry. He couldn't be from there… could he?
Amber took a cautious step forward, and a twig snapped beneath her boot.
The man's head snapped up. In one motion, he rose, sword drawn, bloodied but still fierce.
"Who's there?" His voice was rough, sharp with command.
Amber froze. Her heart hammered.
He took a step toward her, then staggered the wound in his leg slowing him. "Show yourself," he growled.
She stepped out from behind the tree slowly, hands raised.
His eyes locked on hers—storm-gray, filled with suspicion and something else… curiosity.
"I'm not here to hurt you," she said softly.
He studied her like she was a threat. "You shouldn't be here," he said.
"That makes two of us," she replied, nodding toward his leg. "You're bleeding."
He grunted. "It's nothing."
"It's infected."
"I've had worse."
Amber exhaled. Arrogant. Stubborn. Definitely not from around here.
"Let me help you."
He looked like he wanted to argue but swayed slightly on his feet. She stepped forward, instinct taking over, reaching for the satchel at her side. "Sit," she ordered.
He hesitated, then lowered himself to a fallen log with a grunt. "You're awfully bossy for a forest girl."
"And you're awfully rude for someone about to pass out," she muttered.
He smirked faintly, but didn't speak again as she knelt and began cleaning the wound. His blood was warm, his skin hotter than it should've been. Fever. Infection was already setting in.
"What's your name?" she asked quietly.
He paused. "Nathan."
Just that. No surname. No rank.
"And you?"
"Amber."
"Amber," he repeated, as if tasting it. "Fitting."
She glanced up at him. "Why's that?"
"Because you don't belong here either."
Her hand stilled. "What makes you think that?"
"Your eyes. You look like someone who's searching for something."
She looked away. "Maybe I am."
A long silence stretched between them, filled only by the distant rustle of leaves and the steady sound of her work. She could feel him watching her, as if he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn't realize he'd found.
"Thank you," he said finally.
Amber looked at him, startled by the softness in his voice.
"For helping me. Most people wouldn't."
She studied his face. "You're not most people."
Neither was she.
Something shifted in the air between them, like a current pulling them closer. She saw it in the way his gaze lingered a little longer than it should, in the way her breath caught when his fingers brushed her wrist.
This was dangerous.
She didn't know who he really was. He could be a spy, killer or a prince,But in this moment, in this hidden part of the world, he was just a man, and she was just a girl who had wandered too far into a story she wasn't supposed to be part of.
And maybe, just maybe, fate didn't care about rules.