Encounter in Market

Autumn's POV

The air was alive with color and warmth as I walked through the bustling market. Valen was skipping ahead with Zane’s beta, holding a candied fruit in his tiny hands, his laughter blending into the hum of bartering voices, clinking silver, and sweet, spicy aromas.

I needed this. After the stormy days and haunting nights, something about the energy here—the humanity of it—calmed me.

But then the air shifted.

It grew colder… heavier.

As if the sun momentarily slipped behind a dark cloud no one else could see.

My breath caught in my throat.

I turned instinctively, and my gaze landed on him.

Malrik.

He stood near a velvet-draped tent stall, blending effortlessly into the crowd with an aura of dark elegance. He wore a black coat over a deep maroon tunic, his obsidian hair pushed back, revealing the cruel perfection of his jaw and those damnably familiar storm-gray eyes.

Eyes that knew me.

Even across the crowd, his gaze didn’t waver. Didn’t blink. My legs froze in place.

He began to walk toward me—slow, predatory, but with a grace that drew stares from a few women near him. I couldn’t move. My heart thundered painfully in my chest, but I stood rooted like a statue carved from fear and forgotten memories.

“Bella…” he murmured when he reached me. His voice, deep and velvet-smooth, sliced through the air like silk over a blade.

“That’s not my name anymore,” I whispered, summoning every ounce of strength I had.

He tilted his head, a twisted smile playing on his lips. “Maybe not now. But your soul remembers. It called to me.”

“I didn’t call you.” I stepped back.

The market noise faded into the background. Time slowed.

And then… magic shimmered around us.

The sky rippled slightly, almost unnoticeably to mortal eyes, but I saw it. Felt it. The space between us buzzed like static, like the air was trying to split.

“What are you doing?” I hissed.

“I never stopped marking you,” Malrik said softly. “Even in death. Even in rebirth. You were mine before the world knew your name.”

His fingers moved slightly, and golden dust curled between them—unseen to others. He was casting. Slowly, quietly.

I stumbled back, but his magic reached me like mist—brushing my skin, unlocking something primal and buried.

Suddenly I was flooded with images. Flashbacks.

My wrists in shackles.

His breath against my neck.

Blood, lust, and power.

Pain.

“No,” I gasped, clutching my head. “Stop it—”

His hand hovered near my face, not touching, just vibrating with energy. “You remember, don’t you? The taste of me. The fire of our bond. Even now, you crave it.”

“I crave freedom!” I screamed, sending a pulse of energy outward—magic I didn’t know I still had.

It slammed into his chest like a wave. The crowd gasped, not seeing the true cause, only the ripple. Malrik staggered slightly, but then laughed lowly.

“That spark… delicious,” he said, licking a thin line of blood from his lower lip. “But you forget, little flame. What you feel isn’t fear. It’s desire. And you’ll surrender to it—one way or another.”

I backed away, stumbling through the crowd, shaking, trying to make sense of what just happened. My chest heaved. My fingers tingled.

Zane’s voice broke through the haze as he rushed toward me, eyes blazing with concern.

“What happened?” he demanded, grabbing my shoulders.

I couldn’t speak.

I just clung to him, trembling, my heart torn between panic and a dangerous pull I didn’t understand.

He’s not done, I thought.