Lysandra woke with a gasp.
The world around her was spinning, blurring at the edges as her body reeled from the weight of the god's words. Her skin felt feverish, her mark pulsing in time with her racing heart.
She was back.
Back in the forest.
Back in the real world.
The cold air hit her like a slap. She scrambled up, chest heaving, fingers digging into the damp earth beneath her. For a moment, she thought she was alone—
Until she felt hands gripping her shoulders.
"Lysandra."
She flinched. The prince's voice cut through the fog in her mind.
Jael knelt beside her, concern etching deep lines into his face. His golden eyes searched hers, wary and desperate. "What happened?"
Lysandra's throat went dry.
How could she possibly tell him?
That the god had claimed her? That he had named Jael as the price for her freedom?
That she was standing at the edge of a choice that would either doom herself or doom him?
She couldn't.
So she did the only thing she could.
She lied.
"I don't remember," she whispered.
A Silent Decision
Jael didn't look convinced, but he didn't press further.
Not yet.
They continued traveling through the forest, the air heavier than before, thick with unspoken words. Lysandra barely registered the twisting paths or the flickering shadows between the trees—her mind was trapped in the god's echoing demand.
"The prince."
She glanced at Jael from the corner of her eye. He was ahead of her, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he moved through the underbrush. Always ready. Always watching.
He trusted her.
Would he still trust her if he knew she might be the death of him?
A wave of nausea rolled over her.
She had to find another way.
She had to—
SNAP.
A branch cracked behind them.
Both she and Jael whipped around—but before they could react, the shadows erupted.
Figures emerged from the mist, clad in blackened armor, their faces obscured by bone-white masks.
Hunters.
Lysandra barely had time to reach for her dagger before the first one lunged.
The Hunter's Trap
Jael moved like a storm, his sword flashing in the dim light. He met the first attacker head-on, their blades clashing in a burst of sparks.
Lysandra ducked low, narrowly avoiding the swing of an axe aimed for her throat. Too fast. Too strong. These weren't ordinary mercenaries.
They were after something.
Or someone.
Me.
Lysandra gritted her teeth and fought.
Her dagger caught the nearest hunter in the side, but instead of falling, they didn't even flinch. Panic lanced through her—until she realized why.
Their armor was enchanted.
Jael snarled, knocking an attacker back with a vicious kick. "They're not stopping!"
Lysandra's mark burned. She could feel the god's power just beneath her skin, whispering, offering.
But she hesitated.
She couldn't use it. Not now. Not when every time she did, she walked one step closer to becoming him.
Another blade came for her. She barely dodged in time, the cold steel kissing her cheek. Blood dripped onto the forest floor.
Jael turned, his golden eyes locking onto hers.
"Run!"
But it was too late.
One of the hunters lifted a hand—and the world around them shifted.
A rune flared beneath their feet, glowing a deep crimson.
A trap.
Lysandra's stomach dropped as the ground vanished beneath them, and she and Jael were pulled into the abyss.
The last thing she heard before the darkness swallowed them whole—
Was the sound of laughter.