Cael’s vision swam, the world around him blurring into a wash of rain and mist. The scent of wet earth, of wood and leaves, filled his senses, but it wasn’t enough to dull the burning hunger that had started deep in his gut—raw, searing, like fire through his veins.

His feet faltered as he stumbled through the edge of the village, the wet ground slick beneath his boots. His body was failing. The wound on his side—deep and raw, a reminder of the assassin’s blade—had festered, and each breath felt like an effort. His blood was thickening, turning cold. His body was decaying from the inside.

He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t fall. Not here. Not now.

But the scent—the rich, sweet scent of her blood—was in the air, drawing him like a magnet. His head swam, and every instinct screamed for him to stop, to go to her, to feed on her. He clenched his jaw, pushing through the haze of pain and temptation.

He had resisted it for years. He had. He had to.

But she was so close.

Liora.

He staggered forward, his hand outstretched to catch himself on the wall of a familiar structure—the small herb shack on the outskirts of the village, where the healer lived, where the woman who had haunted his dreams worked.

He couldn’t stop himself. The door swung open, and he collapsed inside.

Liora looked up from the small table where she had been grinding herbs. Her eyes widened in surprise and concern as she saw him, drenched in rain, his face pale, his breath ragged. His chest heaved as he tried to steady himself.

“Are you…?” She didn’t finish the question. She was already moving toward him, her hands instinctively reaching out to steady him.

Her touch. It was soft, warm, full of life.

Cael’s breath caught in his throat as the first wave of temptation hit him. Her scent filled the air—sweet, intoxicating, like honey and wildflowers. His body reacted before he could stop it. He wanted to pull her closer, to sink his teeth into her skin, to drink from her.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t.

His vision blurred again, and he swayed on his feet. He couldn’t afford to lose control. Not here. Not with her.

“Who are you?” Liora asked softly, her voice warm, filled with concern as she helped him sit on a nearby stool.

Cael struggled to stay upright, his hand gripping the edge of the table as if it could ground him.

“Cael,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Cael Arven.”

He could feel her pulse in the air. His fangs ached, and the hunger clawed at him from within, but he forced it back, locking it in a cage deep inside his chest. He could not lose control again. Not with her.

Her gaze softened as she studied him, her brow furrowed in thought. “You’re in pain,” she observed, her eyes scanning him for injuries. Her fingers brushed against his arm, and the moment they touched, a spark of warmth shot through him, spreading like wildfire. His blood hummed under his skin, and the urge to pull her into his arms nearly overwhelmed him.

He clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe slowly. “I’m fine,” he lied, even as the sweat beaded on his forehead and his body trembled with the effort to stay in control.

She didn’t believe him, of course. “You’re not fine. Let me help.”

Liora’s hands moved to his side, where the gaping wound still throbbed, the blood seeping through the torn fabric of his cloak. She hesitated, then gently pressed her palms against his skin.

Cael’s breath hitched. It wasn’t just her touch. It was something else. An energy, a warmth that radiated from her touch like a beam of light in the darkness.

His wound began to close.

Cael gasped, his body tensing as the edges of the gash sealed themselves under her hands. The pain lessened, but it was not just a physical healing. Something deeper was happening—a kind of magic that he hadn’t felt in years.

The curse. The Decay. It recoiled from the touch of her hands, as if it feared her power. But it wasn’t enough to banish the hunger.

He wanted to scream. To beg her to stop. To stay away from him.

But he couldn’t. Not with her so close.

“You’re… you’re healing me.” His voice was strained, barely a whisper, as he looked at her in disbelief.

Liora paused, her hands hovering above his wound as she studied him with wide eyes. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. You’re not human, are you?”

Cael swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her gaze. He couldn’t tell her the truth—not yet. Not now.

“I’m… something else,” he muttered, his voice shaking. “Something that doesn’t belong in this world.”

Liora’s expression softened, but there was a flicker of suspicion in her eyes. She didn’t press him further, though. Instead, she stepped back, allowing him a moment to breathe.

But the hunger—it was still there, pulsing beneath his skin, waiting.

He could feel the pull of it. Her blood, so close. So warm.

He had to resist. He couldn’t let himself fall.

Liora turned to gather more herbs, unaware of the battle raging inside him. Cael’s eyes followed her every movement, his breath shallow, his senses sharpened. He wanted to reach out to her, to hold her, but he held himself back.

He had no right to want her. No right to feel this desire. He was a monster—a curse upon this earth.

“I should go,” Cael whispered, trying to rise from the stool, but his body was weak. He swayed, barely catching himself before falling again.

Liora was at his side in an instant, steadying him with a firm grip on his arm. “You’re not going anywhere,” she said firmly. “You’re in no condition to leave.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but then the world tilted again, and darkness crept at the edges of his vision.

“Please,” he managed to whisper. “Just… stay away from me.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion, but she didn’t let go. “Why?”

Cael’s chest tightened as he looked at her, his voice a hoarse rasp. “Because I can’t control myself when I’m near you.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t pull back. Instead, she placed a gentle hand on his chest, her touch a balm to the raging storm inside him.

“You’re safe here,” she said softly.

But he knew, deep down, that there was no such thing as safety for someone like him.

Not with someone like her.

Liora placed him gently on the healing bed, her hands still warm against his skin. He closed his eyes, surrendering to the darkness that beckoned him, the last sliver of his control slipping away.

But before the darkness consumed him entirely, he felt something else—a soft, glowing presence deep within him, like a flicker of light in the endless night.

Her touch.

Liora.

And for the first time in years, Cael let himself feel the faintest stir of hope.