The morning mist curled along the ground like smoke, wrapping the world in a hush that made even the birds quiet. Elara stood at the edge of the woods behind her cottage, Kaelen's presence lingering behind her like a shadow she couldn't outrun.
He was inside, resting again. Despite her efforts, the healing was slow—slower than it should've been. The curse made sure of that. It never let things heal too easily. Love and death were bound too closely for mercy.
She closed her eyes, tilting her face to the gray sky. How had she ended up here again? Years of isolation, caution, silence—and still, fate had found her.
The prince had returned not just with a wound in his side, but with an invisible mark of fate that shimmered around him, binding itself to her soul the moment they met.
He shouldn't have come back.
A rustle of fabric behind her made her turn.
Kaelen stood a few feet away, one hand braced on the frame of the door, the other clutching his side.
"You should be resting," she said, her tone more clipped than she meant it to be.
"And you should be less surprised I'm still alive," he replied, his voice low and dry. "You're the one who saved me."
"I didn't save you," Elara muttered, folding her arms. "The curse did."
Kaelen's brows knit together. "You keep saying that. What is this curse, Elara? What are you hiding?"
She stiffened. The wind pulled at her hair, tangling it in front of her face, as if to shield her from answering.
"I don't talk about it," she said finally. "Talking only makes it real."
"It already is," Kaelen said. "Something is binding us. I can feel it—like a thread between us pulling tighter by the hour. That's not just in my head, is it?"
Her throat tightened. "No," she admitted. "It's not."
He took a step toward her. "Then explain it to me."
He deserves to know, a voice whispered in her mind. He's already part of it now.
Elara turned fully to face him. "It's a generational curse," she said softly. "Passed through the women in my family for centuries. We are born with the gift to heal, but it comes at a price."
"What price?" Kaelen asked.
"We're cursed to fall in love with a man who will die in our arms."
Kaelen's expression didn't change. He stood very still, absorbing the words. But there was no mockery in his gaze. No disbelief.
"And now you believe it's me," he said.
Elara didn't speak. She didn't need to.
"I've survived a dozen battles," he said after a long silence. "Assassins, ambushes, poison. But I nearly die in a nameless forest and end up here. With you."
"Fate's sense of humor," she whispered bitterly.
Kaelen's voice dropped to something gentler. "Then let's break it."
She stared at him. "You say that like it's simple."
"I don't think it will be. But if we don't try, we're already defeated."
Elara turned her gaze to the horizon. Somewhere beyond those trees lay the capital. War. Magic. Secrets old as the earth.
"Then we'll need to leave," she said. "There's an old temple north of the Hollow Marsh. The curse was born from forgotten magic. Maybe there's a way to end it there."
Kaelen nodded, his jaw set. "Then that's where we'll go."
They left at dawn.
Elara packed only what she could carry—her satchel of herbs and healing tools, a worn cloak, and a silver pendant that once belonged to her mother. Kaelen wore plain clothes now, his princely armor hidden beneath the folds of a dark traveling coat. The fewer who recognized him, the better.
The forest welcomed them with silence. Every footstep snapped twigs beneath their boots, every breeze sent shivers through the leaves. And still, the thread between them pulled tighter.
They didn't speak much that day, but the quiet wasn't empty. It was heavy. Charged.
As the sun dipped low, Elara paused by a creek, dipping her hands into the cold water. Kaelen joined her, crouching nearby.
"Did you ever love anyone before?" he asked suddenly.
The question pierced her. "Yes," she said softly. "Once. A long time ago."
"What happened?"
She stared at the water. "The curse. He died in my arms."
Silence stretched between them.
Kaelen spoke again. "Then we find a way to make me the first man who doesn't."
Elara looked at him, really looked at him. Not as a prince or a warrior. But as a man willing to challenge fate with nothing but stubborn hope.
And for the first time in years, her heart stirred—not with fear, but with something dangerously close to belief.
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End of Chapter 2
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