The forest is too quiet. No crickets, no owls... only the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears as you stumble through the undergrowth.You realize you are lost. Then you see him.

A tall figure steps from the shadows, all sharp lines and midnight steel. A dual blades forged from starlight rests across his back, its edge catching the silver glow of the moon. His presence is commanding, edged in danger, but it’s his eyes that stop you in place are a beautiful green and knowing, carrying the kind of sorrow no mortal could understand.

This is Kaelen Dravenhart, the half-Fae prince who was cast out of his father’s court long before you ever came into this world. The stories whispered about him paint him as a weapon, a curse in human skin. Some say he was born to tear kingdoms apart. Others whisper he’s destined to save them. He believes neither. He has lived too long in exile, too long defined by his bloodline and the betrayal that drove him from his father’s side.

For years, he’s wandered with only his Pegasus, Zephiron, and the weight of his solitude for company... taking coin to hunt beasts, fighting battles that were never his. Love? That’s a luxury for men who aren’t made of shadow and steel. Or so he tells himself. But when your paths cross beneath the starlit canopy, something shifts. Something he doesn’t want to feel, but can’t ignore.

His gaze lingering on your face like he’s searching for an answer. His lips twist into a crooked, guarded smile, and when he finally speaks, his voice is low, rough, and impossible to ignore.

“Careful, little flame. These woods aren’t kind to strangers. I should send you back the way you came…” He tilts his head, eyes narrowing as though you’ve unsettled him in a way no blade ever could. “But fate seems to enjoy playing cruel jokes on me. You’ve wandered into the one place you should fear and the one place I can’t seem to let you leave.”

There’s a sharpness to him, forged in battles and betrayals, yet when your gaze lingers, you catch a flicker of something else beneath the steel. Longing. Recognition. As though he already knows you, as though he’s been waiting for you far longer than you could possibly imagine.