FATED TO HIS DARKNESS

Prologue

AMARA’S POV

The first thing I smelled was smoke. My lungs stung with every breath I took. I looked down at the moist soil and found my feet bare without shoes and my dress stained with dirt. Then I saw houses covered in flames in the distance.

Where am I, and how did I get here?

I heard screams that jolted me out of my thoughts. I ran toward the direction of the sound, even when my mind screamed at me to run far away from it.

I got to an open field and stopped when my feet stepped on something hard.

Hundreds of dead bodies covered the field. Some were still; others took their last painful breaths. I could hear more screams in the distance.

I tried helping those barely alive, but I couldn’t. My body seemed to pass through everything, and no one could see me.

I knelt down in frustration. Then I heard a footstep. I turned slowly and saw a man through the smoke, his face streaked with soot and blood. He stared at everyone else except me.

I guess he can’t see me.

I have to find my way out of here. I stared at him one last time.

His eyes locked onto mine like he could see me now.

He raised the axe in his right hand and walked toward me.

I ran.

I didn’t think—that was a luxury I couldn’t afford right now. I just kept running deeper into the woods.

My heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it.

I increased my pace until I thought I had lost him. Then my foot slipped on the wet soil.

I fell. Pain exploded through my leg as iron teeth snapped shut around my ankle.

A hunter’s trap.

I hissed in pain as it intensified. I tried to look at it, but it dug deeper into my ankle. Tears streamed down my face. I held a hand over my mouth, forcing down the scream that had almost escaped my throat.

I heard a sound close by. I covered my mouth tighter and kept muttering in my head:

Don’t make a sound.

Don’t let him find you.

After a while, everything went totally silent. I stared in that direction for a long time.

Slowly, I tried to check on my foot. That’s when something grabbed my injured foot roughly. I was dragged across the ground back to the field.

This time, I screamed.

I jolted awake.

My body was drenched in sweat. My hands were shaking.

It felt real.

I curled myself on the bed, wrapping my arms around my knees.

“It was just a dream,” I whispered. “Just a nightmare.”

My phone rang. The sound made me flinch back in fear.

Unknown number.

My fingers trembled as I answered.

“Hello… who is this?”

No answer.

“Hello?” My voice was shaking now.

Nothing—just total silence.

Then the line went dead.

Somehow, I felt like I was still in that forest.

Chapter One

AMARA'S POV

The first time I realised I was being watched, the shadows moved before I did.

At twenty-five, my life looked perfect from the outside: a steady job at a top firm, a small apartment, predictable routines that kept everything in order. Control had always been my comfort.

Lately, that control had started to slip.

It started with that nightmare—now a message.

My phone vibrated during a meeting that afternoon. An unknown number flashed across the screen.

I have been watching you.

A chill crawled up my spine. When I looked again, the number was gone.

I told myself it was a prank.

Still, unease followed me through the rest of the day, clinging to my thoughts like a shadow I couldn’t shake.

That evening, as I slipped the key into my apartment door, the feeling returned—that sharp awareness of being observed, as though someone stood just beyond my line of sight. Once, my reflection flickered in the glass window, and for a split second, I thought I saw a figure behind me.

When I turned, there was no one there.

I blamed stress. Long hours. Too much caffeine.

That night, work kept me late. The streets were half-empty, slick with rain. A street lamp flickered overhead as I walked faster, clutching my bag close, my senses straining for the slightest sound.

Then I felt it.

Someone was watching me.

I froze and slowly turned.

Across the street stood a man in a black coat. I couldn’t see his face clearly, but his eyes caught the light—golden, unnatural, and fixed on me with unsettling intensity.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Just watched.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

“Can I help you?” I asked, my voice trembling.

His head tilted slightly, as though memorising my face. A strange certainty settled in my chest—he wasn’t a stranger.

Then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

My phone buzzed.

I flinched.

“Mom,” I answered.

“Amara! Your sister is getting married next month!” Her excitement sliced through my nerves. “You’re coming home, right?”

“Of course,” I muttered.

“And don’t come alone this time,” she added firmly. “Everyone will ask why you’re still single. Bring a man. Pretend if you have to.”

I stared at the empty street.

A man watching me… and now a fake boyfriend.

Perfect.

I rushed into my apartment building and pressed the elevator button, my fingers tapping restlessly against my bag. As the doors closed, my thoughts drifted back to the message.

I have been watching you.

Another memory surfaced—someone at the coffee shop last week. The way his gaze lingered before he disappeared into the crowd.

By the time I reached my floor, unease had settled deep in my chest.

Inside my apartment, I locked the door, checked the windows, and drew the curtains. The city’s hum outside felt heavier than usual, pressing in on the silence.

Later, desperate for distraction, I opened my laptop. Hours blurred together until exhaustion pulled me under.

Sleep claimed me.

I stood on a narrow street wrapped in mist.

He was there.

Closer this time.

His golden eyes locked onto mine with a familiarity that stole my breath. The pull between us felt real—tangible—as if something unseen bound us together.

He reached out, his hand hovering inches from mine, warm and steady.

Before our fingers could touch, the dream shattered.

I jolted awake, heart racing. The room felt too quiet. I hugged my teddy tightly, forcing myself to stay awake, afraid of slipping back into that dream.

Questions crowded my mind.

Who was he?

Why was he watching me?

And why did it feel like he already knew me?

Exhaustion won.

As my eyes drifted closed, a warm breath brushed my ear.

A whisper followed—low, intimate.

“Soon.”