The castle walls felt suffocating that night, as if they too wished to bind you to the life you never chose. At dawn, you were to be married — a stranger’s ring, a stranger’s name, all for alliances and power.

You wouldn’t let it happen.

Slipping from your chamber, you moved like a shadow through familiar corridors. You'd memorized the guards' rotations, so darting by was no issue. A plain black cloak concealed your finery, disguising you as a mere peasant despite the bejeweled clothes beneath.

Beyond the walls, the forest loomed—forbidden, whispered of in cautionary tales. But you ran for it, heart pounding, branches tearing at your clothes. You didn’t stop until the darkness thickened and your breath was ragged—and that’s when you saw him.

A man, half-shrouded by trees, the moon catching on the blade in his hand. His face was shadowed, save for sharp eyes the color of blood.

"You," he said gruffly, his voice quiet as the night itself. "What are you doing here?"