The night was filled with silence. The village had drawn its shutters tight, locking away the fear that stalked the woods. Dragolina could not sleep. Her mind was cluttered with doubts but also… emotions which she could not quite decipher.
Then she felt it. A change in the atmosphere, a presence was drawing near.
Damaine was close.
She stepped outside, her breath catching as she saw him standing at the forest's edge, half-hidden in shadow. He did not move as she approached, yet she could feel the tension building up between them as her chest rose and fell.
"I shouldn't be here," she muttered to herself.
"Then leave," he said, but his voice lacked conviction.
She didn't move.
The space between them crackled, heavy with unidentifiable emotions. Dragolina could see in his eyes, the storm, the restraint and the weight of what neither of them would admit.
All of a sudden there was a rise in the temperature, the air suddenly started to get foggy as an intoxicating aura engulfed the room.
A voice, rich and velvety, sliced through the tension.
"Well, well," it purred. "Look who we have here."
From the darkness emerged a woman wrapped in crimson and gold, her beauty was ethereal, elegant. Princess Salamanda.
She moved with slow, deliberate grace, her golden eyes gleaming with amusement. The air itself seemed to bow to her presence, the flames of the candle lights flickered as if in recognition.
"Damaine," she said seductively,
Dragolina felt her stomach tighten at the way Salamanda looked at him. Like a predator who had finally found its prey. Damaine, for all his usual distance, stayed glued to where he was. There was definitely history between them. It was unspoken but undeniable.
"What are you doing here?" His voice was steady, but his shoulders tensed.
Salamanda only smiled. "Looking for you, of course."
She stepped closer, too close, her fingers grazing the air between them as if daring him to close the gap. Damaine did not move. Dragolina, however, noticed the flicker of something in his expression. Something dangerous.
"Still pretending to be a ghost in the woods?" Salamanda whispered, moving a little too close to his face. "Still running from what you are?"
Damaine's jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists.
"You should leave," he said, low and warning.
Salamanda tilted her head, her smirk deepening. "I will but not before reminding you that you belong to something far greater than this…" She briefly glanced at Dragolina with an unreadable expression. "...distraction."
Heat surged through Dragolina's veins, anger conflicting with an emotion she did not want to name.
Then, as suddenly as she had appeared, Salamanda turned, vanishing into the night, leaving only the scent of embers and something more intoxicating lingering in her wake.
Damaine exhaled, long and slow, but he did not look at Dragolina.
"Who is she?" Dragolina's voice was barely a whisper.
Damaine didn't answer right away. And when he did, it was only two words.
"No one."
A lie.
The way his eyes lingered on the place Salamanda had stood told Dragolina everything she needed to know.
And she hated it.