The moment stretched into eternity.

  Aris staggered as the arrow struck her, embedding deep into her shoulder. Her breath hitched, a sharp inhale as pain ced through her body. But it wasn't the wound that sent a chill through Lysara—it was the realization that the attack had come after the battle had ended. The vilgers, the very people they had no intention of harming, had turned against them.

  "Aris!" Lysara gasped, rushing to her side. The arrow had struck just beneath the colrbone, not fatal, but painful enough to weaken even an Abyssal Lycan.

  Aris gritted her teeth, her abyssal eyes, which were turning golden, burning with fury. She snapped the arrow’s shaft off with a sharp motion, her body trembling but refusing to fall.

  Lysara turned her gaze to the vilgers, disbelief written across her face. "Why?" she demanded, her voice trembling. They had done nothing but protect themselves, yet here they were, being treated as the enemy.

  Before anyone could answer, Val spoke, his voice cold and unwavering.

  "This is what happens," he murmured, his crimson eyes locked onto the crowd. "When you follow your heart instead of your mind."

  Lysara stiffened at his words. There was no softness in them, only the sharp edge of reality.

  Another arrow was nocked, another bow drawn—but it never fired.

  A pulse of energy surged through the air, invisible yet suffocating.

  The vilgers froze.

  A deep, consuming darkness spread from where Val stood, curling around his form like an unseen storm. The ground beneath him cracked, an eerie silence falling over the crowd. The pressure in the air became unbearable, like something ancient and terrifying had awakened.

  For the first time, the vilgers saw him—not as a man, not as a traveler, but as something beyond their comprehension.

  A monster.

  A god.

  Val didn’t need to speak for them to understand. The weight of his power was enough.

  Those who held bows trembled, their fingers slipping, arrows falling harmlessly to the ground. Others stepped back, their expressions shifting from anger to unfiltered terror.

  "If I wanted to," Val said, his voice quiet but carrying through the stunned silence, "I could erase this vilge from existence."

  His words were not a threat.

  They were a fact.

  The vilgers knew it. They felt it in their bones, in the way their instincts screamed at them to run.

  No one moved. No one dared.

  Then, as suddenly as it had come, the oppressive aura vanished.

  Val took a step back, his crimson eyes still cold, still calcuting. But he had made his point. The vilgers wouldn't attack again.

  And then—

  "Enough!"

  A firm voice cut through the tension.

  From the crowd emerged a young man, barely older than Aris. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, his brown eyes wide, yet his posture remained firm despite the lingering fear in his expression.

  The chief.

  "Lower your weapons!" he commanded, his voice steady despite the heavy atmosphere. The vilgers hesitated, but the sheer authority in his tone forced them to obey. Bows were lowered, though the fear in their eyes remained.

  The chief exhaled, tension visibly leaving his shoulders. He turned to Val, then to Lysara—only to freeze entirely.

  For a moment, he simply stared.

  At her.

  At the way her golden eyes flickered between hues, shifting between blue, silver, gold, red, green, based on her emotions. At the way her presence seemed to bend reality itself.

  At her inhuman beauty.

  Lysara, unaware of his reaction, was still tending to Aris. But Val noticed.

  His gaze flickered toward the young man, sharp and unreadable. His body did not move, his expression did not change—but the air around him darkened ever so slightly.

  A silent warning.

  The chief swallowed hard and quickly averted his gaze.

  "We… We didn’t know who you were," he said, his voice quieter now. "We thought you were with them—the Lycans." His eyes darted to Aris, to the inhuman glint in her golden irises.

  Lysara finally looked up, her expression unreadable. "So you attack first, and ask questions ter?"

  The chief flinched but did not argue. Instead, he sighed. "Come. All of you are still injured, maybe from previous battles before this. We have a healer in the vilge."

  Lysara hesitated, but a quick gnce at Aris—who was still bleeding—and Val’s wound, that’s still not fully healed, made the decision for her.

  Val said nothing, his gaze still locked onto the chief, assessing him.

  A heartbeat passed.

  Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he stepped forward.

  Not beside the chief.

  But beside Lysara.

  A silent statement. A presence that loomed, watchful, unyielding.

  The chief felt it.

  And he understood.

  Val did not need to speak. His presence alone was enough to make it clear—

  Lysara was not someone he would allow to be taken.

  Morning comes.

  The golden light of dawn stretched over the small vilge, casting a warm glow on the simple wooden huts and the smoke rising from cooking fires. The scent of fresh bread and grilled meat filled the air, blending with the distant ughter of children pying near the river.

  After the chaos of the previous night, this morning felt strangely peaceful.

  Lysara stood near a well, letting the cool breeze brush through her long blue hair as she watched the vilgers begin their daily routines. Some men carried sacks of grain, others repaired fishing nets. The moment they noticed her, however, everything seemed to slow down.

  Their eyes lingered—not just in admiration, but in awe.

  “She’s like… a Goddess,” an old vilger whispered to his son.

  Lysara’s golden eyes shifted slightly, turning a faint shade of pink in embarrassment. She turned away, pretending not to hear.

  On the other side of the vilge, Val stood near a wooden post, arms crossed as he observed the scene. He wasn’t oblivious to the way the women of the vilge had started gathering near him, whispering to each other with flushed cheeks.

  "He’s breathtaking…"

  "His silver hair... is he really human?"

  "If the dy is a Goddess, then he must be some kind of immortal warrior."

  Val ignored them. He had no interest in entertaining their admiration, nor did he care for their hushed words. His focus remained on Lysara—watching over her, just as he always had.

  Then, he noticed it.

  She swayed slightly, her fingers trembling as she held onto the well.

  A sharp pain shot through her chest, and her vision blurred for a second.

  The sickness.

  It had been held at bay by the herbs she took, but after months of stress, constant battles, and being hunted, her body was finally reaching its limit.

  Val was beside her in an instant.

  “Lysara.” His voice was firm but quiet enough that only she could hear.

  She forced a smile, gripping the stone edge of the well. “I’m fine, Kael.”

  His crimson eyes darkened slightly. “No, you’re not.”

  He reached out, catching her wrist gently. Her skin felt colder than usual.

  Lysara sighed, looking away. “I just… need rest. That’s all.”

  Val didn’t press further, but he didn’t let go either.

  He knew better than anyone—Lysara always said she was fine, even when she wasn’t.

  And right now, she was far from fine.

  The sun climbed higher in the sky, casting its warm rays over the vilge. The peacefulness of the morning continued, yet something felt heavy in the air. Lysara’s condition was slowly but surely taking a toll on her, and the worry was palpable among those around her.

  Aris watched her closely, her golden eyes narrowing with concern as Lysara leaned against the stone well, still clutching her chest.

  “Lysara...” Aris’s voice was softer than usual as she approached. She may have been an Abyssal Lycan, but the sight of Lysara in pain unsettled her. "You’re not fooling anyone."

  Lysara forced a smile, but her eyes betrayed her. “I’m okay, Aris. Really.”

  But Aris had never been one to let things go. She walked closer, pcing her hand gently on Lysara’s forehead. The heat radiating from her skin was unmistakable, and it made Aris’s worry grow stronger.

  “Don’t you dare lie to me.” Aris’s tone softened again as she turned to Val, her voice turning more serious. “You need to take care of her. I’m going to find some more pain reliever herbs for her—something stronger than what we have. Stay with her, and don’t leave her side.”

  Val looked at Aris and nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. Aris’s protective instincts kicked in, and she was already on her way, her feet swift as she made her way through the vilge.

  As the moment of silence settled between them, Lysara leaned on Val, her soft hand gripping his arm for support. Her heart was heavy, and her head felt fuzzy. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was exhausted.

  Her eyes flickered back to Val, a gentle warmth flickering in her golden irises. Her voice was soft, almost wistful. “Kael... Do you remember when you confessed your feelings for me?”

  Val tensed at the mention of it, but then he softened. Lysara had always held a special pce in his heart, though he often kept it locked away deep inside. He remembered the moment clearly: her confusion, his earnest confession, and her acceptance of it.

  “I do.” His voice was low but sincere.

  Lysara smiled slightly, even though the pain still lingered. “I… I was scared, you know? Scared of what would happen. But when I look at you, I feel… safe.”

  Val’s heart tightened at her words, but he was careful not to show too much emotion. His focus remained on her well-being.

  “Lysara,” he said gently, almost too quietly, “if… if I ever lost you, I wouldn’t know how to keep going. I don’t want you to leave me.”

  Lysara’s lips trembled as she looked up at him, her golden eyes beginning to shimmer with an emotion she could hardly contain. “Kael… If I die, I want you to know my feelings. I want you to know that I—”

  Before she could finish, Val’s hand gently cupped her cheek, and his crimson eyes pierced through hers with intensity.

  “You’re not going to die,” he interrupted, his tone firm, almost commanding. “The herb has already healed you. It’s just taking time. The sickness slowed down after we took care of the physical damage, but the mental breakdown from all that’s happened… That’s what is really affecting you. The fall of your kingdom, the weight of the choices you had to make. I know it’s been hard on you.”

  Lysara didn’t argue. She knew he was right. The overwhelming pain of losing everything she had worked for had torn her apart. But she had never let it show—until now.

  Even in her weakened state, Lysara still tried to joke. “Well, you know, it’s hard to love a cold-hearted man like you.” She smiled pyfully, trying to lighten the atmosphere. Her voice was still full of that adorable charm, even as she clung to him for support.

  Val let out a deep sigh, feeling a mix of frustration and affection. He shook his head, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m not cold-hearted,” he muttered, but there was warmth in his words as he tucked a strand of her blue hair behind her ear. “And I’ll always be here, Lysara. No matter what.”

  Lysara leaned into him, feeling comforted by his words. Despite the weakness in her body, she found soce in his presence.

  She was still the same Lysara—expressive, endearing, and full of life. And even though her body was failing her, her spirit remained unbroken.

  For now, all they could do was stay close to each other and face the unknown together. But whatever came next, they would face it side by side.

  Later that moment.

  Lysara felt the weight of the situation pressing on her shoulders. She had never been one to run from danger, but there was an undeniable sense of foreboding that lingered. Val—or Kael, as she had come to affectionately call him—wasn’t the type to show emotion, but even she could sense that something was off.

  In the quiet stillness, Lysara’s gaze wandered toward the horizon, as if searching for answers in the distant hills. Her golden eyes flickered with an unusual unease, the colors shifting between deep sapphire and stormy silver. A feeling nagged at her, something she couldn’t quite pce.

  “Do you feel that?” she asked softly, though she wasn’t sure if anyone could understand what she was sensing.

  Aris, ever the cautious one, looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”

  “The air… it feels like something is coming,” Lysara murmured, her voice a little strained, as if she were trying to convince herself. She turned toward Kael, who stood silently beside her, watching the vilgers.

  His expression remained unreadable, but his voice cut through the silence. “You’re not wrong. Something’s out there, but we’ll deal with it when the time comes.”

  Lysara nodded, although her heart told her that the time was near.

  Lysara couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. The soft rustling of the trees, the quiet murmur of the vilgers—they all seemed to be distant echoes now, as if something else was watching them from the shadows.

  And in the deepest corner of the forest, a figure stood, cloaked in shadows, hidden from the naked eye. His presence was felt, a disturbance in the very fabric of the nd itself.

  The Grand Marshal Varog had been watching from afar, his eyes gleaming like twin pools of darkness, his very being exuding power that sent ripples of unease through the earth. He had known of Lysara’s presence long before they arrived in this vilge, and now, he had taken note of the vampire that stood with her.

  The day was coming when all of their paths would cross—and when it did, the world would tremble.