The sunlight poured gently through the open window, where the curtains had been drawn back to let in the morning breeze. Golden rays stretched across the room like soft fingers, warming everything they touched. The fireplace crackled quietly in the corner, adding its own steady glow to the space. It wasn't a grand room, but it was cozy comfortably furnished with soft tapestries, carved wooden shelves, and a small reading chair tucked beneath a window seat.
At the far end of the room, nestled beneath a heavy quilt, a girl lay asleep on the bed.
Her name was Evie.
Her curls spilled across the pillow like dark silk, her expression calm, almost childlike in rest. But as the light crept across her face, her brow twitched. Her lashes fluttered. Slowly, her eyes opened.
She blinked up at the unfamiliar ceiling.
A second passed.
Then another.
She sat up fast.
Her breath caught as she looked around the strange room, confusion knitting her brow. This wasn't her cottage. The air smelled faintly of cedar and lavender, not chimney smoke and pine. The bed beneath her was far too soft, the sheets too clean, the silence too thick.
Before the panic could fully bloom, the door creaked open.
A young woman entered, carrying a porcelain bowl of water and a folded towel. She couldn't have been more than twenty—freckled face, sharp cheekbones, and curly red hair pulled into a neat bun beneath a white linen cap. She wore a dark blue maid's dress, plain but pressed, with an apron tied at the waist and sleeves rolled neatly to her elbows. Despite her youth, her movements were practiced, careful, and efficient.
The moment she saw Evie awake, she stopped in her tracks. Her eyes widened.
"Oh! You're awake." Her voice was light and melodic, with a hint of surprise and relief. She set the bowl on the bedside table quickly. "I wasn't sure when you'd come to. You've been out for two whole days."
Evie stared at her. "Two… days?"
The maid gave a quick nod. "Yes, miss. You were brought here two nights ago—fast asleep. Lord Thorne himself carried you in. Said not to disturb you, only to keep the fire going and the room quiet."
Evie's lips parted in disbelief. Her fingers dug into the blanket, grounding herself. "This is... the Lord's Manor?"
The maid gave a gentle smile. "It is. You're safe now."
Safe.
The word echoed in Evie's head, but it didn't bring comfort. Not yet.
She glanced out the window. The forest. The creature. The ring of scorched earth. The way she had felt—like she wasn't herself, like something inside her had broken open. It all came back in a rush, and with it, a thudding heartbeat and a twisting in her stomach.
"Where's Lucas?" she asked, voice hoarse.
The maid paused, then softened. "Lord Thorne? He's here, miss. He's been waiting for you to wake. I can send word if you'd like to see him."
Evie nodded slowly, still dazed.
The maid reached for the towel and wrung it out over the bowl, then gently handed it to her. "Here, freshen up. I'll go let him know you're awake."
Before Evie could ask anything else, the girl gave a slight curtsey and hurried out of the room, her steps light on the polished floor.
Evie was left sitting in the golden light, clutching the damp towel, trying to piece herself back together.
Because she hadn't walked in two days, her legs were unsteady when she stood. They trembled beneath her weight, forcing her to catch herself against the wall. The cool stone steadied her enough to breathe. She waited a moment, willing the world to stop spinning, then pushed forward, one hand trailing along the wall as support.
She stepped out of the room and into a long corridor bathed in pale morning light. The air smelled faintly of old books and polished wood. The silence was deep, interrupted only by the distant crackle of a hearth and the soft brush of wind curling through an open window.
Evie had only been inside the Lord's Manor twice in her life, and the second time barely counted. That night she had wandered lost in a masquerade mask, heart pounding, half believing it was a dream. Now, without the haze of music and candlelight, everything felt sharper. The high ceilings. The arched doorways. The cold elegance of the place.
She walked slowly, her steps uneven but determined. Paintings lined the hallway, faces she didn't recognize staring out with lifeless eyes. She passed a tall mirror and paused, catching a glimpse of herself. Pale skin. Messy curls. Eyes shadowed with something she didn't have a name for. Grief, maybe. Fear. Whatever had happened to her in that clearing still clung to her like a second skin.
She moved on.
the more she walked the more endless the corridor seemed. Every turn looked the same. Every rug, every portrait, every door—it all blurred together like a dream refusing to end.
She stopped, glancing behind her.
No stairs. No signs. No voices.
Just silence.
Evie pressed her palm flat to the wall, steadying herself. "There has to be a way out," she whispered.
Her bare feet padded across the cool floor as she moved forward again, determined now. Another corridor. Another archway. And then—finally—a change. A tall window stood open at the end of the hall, its curtains fluttering gently. Through it, she could see a flash of green. The gardens.
Relief loosened her chest.
She followed the light like a tether, turned a final corner, and found a door ajar. Cool air drifted in, carrying the faint scent of roses and damp earth. Evie stepped outside.
The garden was quiet and vast, framed with trimmed hedges and flowering vines. Pale blossoms curled around stone arches. There were birds somewhere overhead, chirping like nothing in the world had changed. She walked down a winding path, the sun warming her shoulders, her body still aching but moving with more certainty now.
And then she saw him.
Lucas.
He stood beneath a vine-covered arch, dressed in black, his posture still and statuesque. The morning light touched his pale features, casting shadows beneath his cheekbones. Beside him stood a tall man in a dark council cloak, his back turned to her, hands clasped behind him.
Evie froze for a second, unsure if she should interrupt.
Lucas turned first, as if sensing her.
His gaze found her instantly.
And softened.