Without a second thought, she shoved the bag beneath the mattress, as if hiding it from her own mind. But the room felt suffocating, the quiet too loud in her anger.
Grabbing her cloak, she whirled back down the steps and into the night. the chill biting at her face as the wind whipped through the empty streets. Her feet carried her toward the woods without a plan, her thoughts pulling her in too many directions to stay still.
The trees loomed tall and dark as she entered the forest, their bare branches twisting against the sky like crooked fingers. The frost crunched under her boots, and the occasional whisper of wind through the trees seemed louder than it should have been. She kept walking, her hands shoved deep into her pockets, the cold seeping through. Her mind the eye of the storm, memories of her father, her mother, Emry, the Circle, and the book all colliding in a mess she couldn’t unravel. She tried to keep it down, but it clawed at her, each thought louder than thelast, like storm winds swirling. She kept walking, letting the chill numb her fingers and the movement distract her from the weight pressing on her. She hadn’t noticed how far she had gone until the trees began to thin and the ground sloped downward. She stumbled to a stop at the edge of a cliff, her breath visible in the icy air. The jagged rocks below were hidden by the shadows of the night, the sound of distant waves crashing faintly against the shore.
The wind howled around her, like the storm brewing inside her, tugging at her cloak and pulling her closer to the edge. She stared down, her thoughts quiet for the first time since she’d stepped into the woods. It would be so easy, she thought, to take one more step. To let the wind decide her fate. Her hand hovered at her side, her fingers brushing against the emptiness, when a firm grip caught her arm. She gasped, spinning around, her fist ready to swing. But she froze when she saw him. The man concealed in shadow.
He let go of her arm, stepping back just enough to give her space. His gaze, however, lingered. Dark swirling
eyes pulled at her, as though they could see far beyond her surface. The faint shimmer within them caught the moonlight, flickering like embers barely clinging to life.
Riona’s chest tightened as she studied him. His beauty was startling, almost unnerving, with features that felt more sculpted than born. There was an otherworldly grace about him that made her feel small in comparison. The perfume of ash and pine drifting in the air. Yet, for all his sharpness, there was something… familiar.
It struck her then, a subtle similarity to Sorcha. The set of his jaw, his lips, the chin, the tilt of his head, even the way his hair caught the light reminded her of her friend. The realization made her stomach twist, though she couldn’t explain why.
“You should be more careful,” he said, his voice low and even, cutting through her thoughts.
Riona crossed her arms, trying to mask the unease crawling under her skin. “I don’t see how it’s your concern,” she said coldly, though her tone lacked conviction.
He tilted his head, his lips curving ever so slightly. “Perhaps it isn’t,” he replied, his tone carrying a faint amusement. “But standing on the edge of a cliff on a night like this? It’s… telling.”
Her jaw tightened, heat rising to her cheeks. “You don’t know me,” she bit back, her voice taut with defiance. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“No,” he agreed, his expression darkening ever so slightly. “But I know what it looks like when someone’s on the verge of falling—whether it’s by accident or by choice.” His words landed with the weight of a stone, sinking into the storm swirling inside her. She looked away, her gaze falling to the cliff’s edge.
“Why does it matter to you?” she muttered.
He didn’t answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice softened, almost reflective.
“Maybe it doesn’t. Or maybe I’ve seen enough to know when to step in.”
The honesty in his tone—or perhaps the weariness in his eye—made her chest ache. She didn’t know what tosay, didn’t know how to handle the way his words cut so close to truths she hadn’t dared to confront. “Come on,” he said, stepping back toward the shadows of the woods. “It’s too cold to stand here all night.”
Riona hesitated, her feet rooted to the ground. Part of her wanted to stay, to let the dark and the wind swallow her whole. But there was something about him, something in his voice, his presence, that made her move.
She followed, keeping a careful distance as they entered the forest. “What’s your name?” she asked, her voice angrier than she intended.
He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “Vaelric,” he said simply, his name carrying an almost musical cadence that seemed to resonate in the air around them.
She frowned slightly, the name unfamiliar yet strangely fitting. “Vaelric,” she whispered to herself.
“Why did you stop me, Vaelric?” she asked, her voice softening as she spoke his name aloud.
Vaelric slowed his pace, glancing over his shoulder. His face, illuminated by the faint light filtering through the trees, was calm but guarded.
“Because I’ve seen what happens when no one pulls them back.”
Riona swallowed hard, her thoughts a tangled mess of confusion.
They traveled further, the crunch of leaves underfoot and the whisper of the wind through the trees the only sounds between them. And yet, the weight of his presence seemed to steady her, if only slightly.
Vaelric walked Riona to the edge of Coill Dorcha. He glanced at her, his voice calm and confident. “I believe this is where you want to be.”
She held his gaze. “How’d you know this is where I was staying?”
He shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “It’s the only town within miles, and I have a hard time believing you walked farther than this.” She felt foolish forasking and nodded. “Well… thank you for… you know…” He nodded in acknowledgment. “Goodnight.”
He turned and started walking away, but Riona suddenly called after him. “Wait!”
