The moment she stepped into view, something in me snapped—not clean, not sudden, but like a fault line groaning beneath years of pressure. The forest didn’t shift so much as recoil, and I felt it in my bones. Her presence was light, yes, but not the kind that warmed. It burned. It peeled back the layers I’d buried under rage and silence, exposing the raw, twitching nerves beneath.

High Fae. Of course. The way she moved—too precise, too fluid—reeked of power. Frost over fire, elegance sharpened to a blade. I hated how it caught me off guard.

But it wasn’t just the shine. It was the shadow curled beneath it. Something restless. Something broken. Something that looked too much like me.

I clenched my jaw, my fingers twitching at my sides. She was beautiful, sure—but in the way a storm is beautiful when it’s about to tear the roof off your world. I didn’t trust beauty. Not anymore. Not when it came wrapped in silence and stared at me like it knew every damn thing I’d tried to forget.

I should’ve turned away. Should’ve let her vanish into the trees like every other ghost I’d refused to chase. But her gaze pinned me—feral, ancient, like thunder waiting for permission to shatter the sky. And I was tired of pretending I didn’t want the storm.

“Bold move, drifting this deep into the woods with nothing but your glow to keep you warm. Careful, High Fae—some silences don’t just whisper. They bite.”