Marked by blood, bound by fate.

This was no longer her palace. No longer the place she had grown to love. The home she had hoped to make of it. Not anymore. They had turned it into a hunting ground. And she was the one being hunted. Maxine pushes her body to run faster, go beyond limits she’s never tested. And with her newfound speed, her muscles scream but she doesn’t slow. She runs up the winding staircase. The forest comes into view. A strong tug pulls at her senses. It was calling to her. Luring her to its edge and deep into its belly. Edging her on and encouraging her to pivot to it. A tempting gesture. Thus, desperate to get away, to leave all of it behind. Maxine doesn’t listen to reason. She doesn’t have the time to. Not with the wolves hot on her trail, smashing everything on sight to get to her, but she’s fast— too fast. Faster than a normal werewolf. The ground itself practically folds to her command as she changes course. She runs toward it. The very thing that she had been told to never set foot in.

Three moons ago.Maxine knelt by the wet cabin floor. Her glove-clad hands gripped the brush as she scrubbed at a particularly thick, stubborn stain.To the outside world, one would assume she was perfectly focused on the task at hand.But her mind was barely there with her body. The past two weeks kept replaying over and over again.The heavy breathing outside her window at night. However, when she looked outside, nothing was there. Just trees dancing in the wind.Sometimes it would be the slow, deliberate, heavy footfalls circling the cabin each evening. Like someone was scouting. Watching. Waiting. A sudden chill slithers down her spine. She shudders. The shutters rattle violently as a gust of wind forces itself inside.She freezes. Slowly, she turns her head in the direction of the shutters. Looking closely, she sees—Nothing. Just the curtains flowing in the breeze. She adjusts, “Perhaps it's… just all in my head,” pointing her attention back to the floor. A sharp knock sound

Somewhere beyond the border of a neighbouring kingdom, where the city’s reach thins into wild, green, she moves leisurely. The forest itself is alive with quiet glory. The birds sing their song like a welcome gift, leaves dance in the soft breeze, and the light touches her skin, curious as she glides through. Ahead, a narrow stream cuts through the trees, and water clear as glass flows smoothly. Beneath, tiny bright colored creatures flicker, darting about as they play. She rests at the bank. “Such a wonderful day, don’t you think?” Comes the voice of her companion. She doesn’t turn, mesmerized by the tiny creatures. “Wonderful things rarely last.” She finally says, a quiet thickness settling in the air. The water seems to still, her reflection stares back at her. ‘Would she look like me?’ She wonders. Her bright sky-blue eyes shimmer, complemented by long, full lashes and her soft, plump lips. Then, a new reflection joins hers. “You’ve awfully been quiet again.”

The man arrives at the base of the ancient forest—a path he has to use to avoid any more encounters like that with Draven. He takes his first step beneath the mass of towering trees. This forest stretches deep, ancient and with hidden secrets leading up to the high peaks of a sacred mountain where his destination lies and his ruler awaits his delivery. His massive frame moves with purposeful precision. Boots falling heavily on the evergreen path formed from frequent use of those brave—or—dumb enough to pass through it. In his arms, the girl lies, cradled carefully to his chest. Her hair spilling over his shoulders like a waterfall of darkness as her palm-sized face rests almost peacefully on his bicep. Her eyes remain shut. To the untrained eye, it would appear as though she were in a peaceful slumber. But her deathly stillness betrays that. Her shallow breaths are the only proof of her unconscious state. The forest is drawn to her. The ancient towering trees etched in thic

In the Primordial’s wing, silence stretched thick across Titan’s study. The room was expansive, dimly lit by a few burning candles inside iron sconces along the tiled walls. Ancient runes pulsed faintly beneath the marble floor like veins beneath skin. Titan stood by the towering glass ceiling window, hands clasped behind his back as he overlooked the winding staircases below and beyond them—the ancient forest. Even from here, it felt restless tonight. His silver eyes narrow slightly. “Did the forest react to her presence?” he asks at last. Dalton leans against the entrance frame behind him, arms folded across his chest. Exhaustion from his journey flowed off him in waves. “Yes,” he answers. “From the moment we crossed the border.” Titan stiffness, but keeps composed. “And the rotting regions?” Dalton hesitates, thinking about how strange it was. “The same reaction.” His gaze flickers toward the forest outside. “Though weaker. Less lively.” Silence follows between them, conv