“Oriana,” a voice sounded behind her, one that boiled her blood.
“Why are you here?” she said, back still turned to the voice.
“You know why I am here.” His voice always sounded angry, as if he was on the verge of attack in the middle of war.
“You know my answer.” She finally spun to look him in the eye.
Anthes was as menacing as always. The very picture of a ruthless warlord. His threatening red eyes bore into hers. She did not flinch nor falter from his gaze.
“You will regret it. When the curse fully consumes you, when you are trapped for eternity in this place and your enchantments leave you, you will regret it.” His voice was low and lethal, grip tightening around the handle of the axe he always had in hand.
She did not give him the satisfaction of looking afraid, her emotions locked beneath the surface as she said, “What does it matter? Whether you run from it or not, destiny arrives all the same.”
He stepped closer until he loomed over her. Anyone else would have fled in fear, but Oriana held her ground.
“You are a fool,” he spat, and then he was gone. The air cooled once again into the harsh bite of winter.
Oriana exhaled the breath she had been holding, her entire body relaxing from its state of tension. She hated when he came to visit her. She would not change her mind. She would never go back, no matter the cost. In this place, she had found love and felt what it meant to be cared for.
She had lived.
Anthes had always been a stitch in her side, forcing her into battle and bloodshed against her will. She was almost as skilled in the art of war as he was. Maybe in another life, she could have been a great military leader, but Anthes would never have allowed that. He had always possessed an obsession for Oriana’s unique gifts and used them for his own twisted purpose.
Every moment with him became an intense battle for her sanity. If only he had allowed her to hone her skill, to practice its use and ability, she might have gained complete control over the bloodlust. She might have been able to use it for good rather than evil, but Anthes never allowed her that chance. She was his own personal creature of death.
She would rather let the curse play out and be forced to trap herself in a prison of her own making for eternity than go back to serving as Anthes’s weapon in war, annihilating masses of people for sport.
Her breathing quickened, blood boiling at the mere thought of returning to that life. It could never happen. Not ever.
Oriana screamed, conjuring a knife from thin air and hurling it at the spot where Anthes’s head had just been. It embedded itself to the hilt within a pine tree before she closed her fist, and it disappeared, the smoking embers of her enchantment rising into the foliage above. She waited, slowing her breathing until her skin cooled.
With one final long exhalation, she pulled herself together and continued moving through the forest in search of Garren.
Oriana attempted to clear her mind, emptying it of all that had just happened and all that was still to come, until she finally heard something through the trees. Her head snapped in its direction as she peered through her forest of gloom.
There was the distinct sound of grunting and the soft rustle of movements through tall grass. She followed the sounds, realizing it was leading her toward the cliffs of Shipwreck Cove, where she often spent long hours sitting upon the cliffs, watching the swirling waters of the Storm Sea beyond.
As she came upon where the trees began to thin, giving way to the vibrant flowing grasses that stretched from the edge of the Phantom Wood to the rocky cliffs, Oriana was gifted with the view of Garren shirtless, sweat gleaming upon his torso.
He was moving through a combat sequence, his maneuvers held such precision, every chiseled feature taught with power. His lean body moved with more grace than she would have thought possible with his towering, brutish size. It was almost like a dance, the way he flowed through each sequence. He was magnificent.
She took a careful step forward, eyes still fixed on him, but a twig snapped beneath her foot, and she dove behind a tree.
Garren spun in her direction, muscles tensed and eyes narrowed on the spot she had just been standing in. He stalked closer. She shuffled round to the other side, back pressed against the coarse bark, but slammed face first into a warm, slick wall of corded strength. Oriana looked up into Garren’s amused eyes and pushed herself away from his bare chest, heat rising to her cheeks and settling much deeper.
“Spying on me?” he said with a wicked grin.
“No,” she parried quickly. “I came to find you. Are you crazy? You could have been lost in these woods for days.”
“Well, it seems you found me easily enough. One might think you’ve been into this forest more than just a few times.”
She couldn’t discern the look on his face.
“It’s still early in the month. The fog is not as bad. The trees seem to stay in their rightful place,” Oriana said, but then chastised herself as she was giving herself away. Only someone that had been into the forest more than a few times would know that.
“Yet it took me hours to even get here, out of the forest. And I didn’t even end up in the right place. I was trying to get back to Sardorf.”
Only a few hours to get out? That would have taken anyone else days, weeks, eternity, she wanted to say to him, but held her tongue. He had still moved through the forest better than anyone else. The fact that he made it out at all was a testament to the fact there was something entirely different about him. She had known he wasn’t any ordinary man since she met him–she had been in denial about it–but he was starting to show signs that he was more and more like her. But who was he?
