Torn Between Destinies

The fire in our hearth had burned down to embers, casting only the faintest glow across the wooden floorboards. Outside, the night pressed in like a held breath, heavy and unmoving. I hadn’t expected him to come.

But I felt him before he knocked.

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The door creaked open, and there he stood. Darius. Still wearing yesterday’s shirt, dust clinging to his boots, jaw set with something deeper than anger or pain—fear.

I didn’t speak.

Neither did he, not at first. He just looked at me, like he was counting every breath I took, every beat of my heart, desperate to memorize me before the world took me away.

Then, finally, he stepped inside.

"I had a dream," he said, voice low.

I looked up from where I sat, lacing the last strap on my pack. "What did you see?"

He closed the door behind him. "The Vale. Or something close to it. Black vines that moved like snakes. Eyes in the trees. Screams from underground."

I nodded once. "You saw what waits for me."

He crossed the room, kneeling in front of me. His hands gripped mine, rough and warm. "Luciana, don’t go."