Chapter Six: Beneath the Wild Sky
The cabin was simple.
Just four wooden walls, a creaky roof, and a fireplace that smoked if you weren't careful. But for Elara and Aldric, it was a kingdom.
They discovered it a week after escaping, half-buried in moss and silence at the edge of Darrin Forest. It was long abandoned but still strong, as if it had been waiting for them.
The days passed quietly. It was almost too quiet for Aldric, who had grown up surrounded by banners, bells, and endless voices calling his name. Now, only the birds sang in the morning, and the wind rustled through the trees like whispers barely audible.
Elara had never known peace like this before.
But peace came with its own kind of ache.
Some mornings, she gazed into the mirror of the washbasin, expecting to see the beast. She waited for her golden eyes to turn black, for her fingers to become claws. But that never happened.
Aldric taught her how to chop wood. She taught him how to set traps and track wild game. At night, they sat by the fire, sipping tea from mismatched cups and reading old books they found in the cabin. Sometimes, they danced in the candlelight. Slowly. No music, just their breaths and heartbeats.
Still, the peace didn't stop the questions.
One night, as the fire crackled low and their hands intertwined, Elara broke the silence.
"Do you ever regret it?"
Aldric looked up from the piece of wood he was whittling. "Regret what?"
"Leaving your crown, your people, your name."
He paused before answering.
"I don't regret you," he said.
She smiled softly. "That's not what I asked."
"I regret that it was the only way," he admitted. "That love in the open wasn't an option. That I had to choose between a throne and the truth."
Elara was quiet for a moment. "You know… you never asked about me. About how I became this."
"I figured you'd tell me when you were ready."
She stared into the fire. "I think I am."
The words came slowly, like stones pulled from deep water.
"I wasn't born a wolf," she began. "I was cursed."
Aldric sat up straighter.
She nodded. "I was eighteen when mercenaries raided my village. They came at night, burned homes, and took what they wanted. I tried to fight. I should have died."
Her voice cracked, but she continued.
"But I didn't. One of them—he wasn't human. I didn't realize it then. He was a cursed creature hiding in a man's skin. When he bit me, I thought it was just another wound."
She touched her shoulder, as if it still burned.
"But when the next full moon came, I changed. It was agony, like my body was being torn apart and put back together by fire. I couldn't control it. I couldn't think. I hurt people, Aldric. Innocents. I ran from the village before they could see what I had become."
Her voice broke. "I've been running ever since."
Aldric took her hand.
"You're not the monster they made you out to be."
She looked up, tears in her eyes. "Then what am I?"
"You're strong," he said. "And scarred. And still standing. That makes you human."
She didn't reply, but she leaned against him, letting the warmth of his heartbeat lull her to sleep.
Weeks went by. Then a month.
Spring crept into the forest, painting it green and gold. Elara began to smile more. The shadows under her eyes faded. The moon rose and fell, and she learned to manage the change with distance, meditation, and grit.
But one morning, everything shattered.
Aldric had gone to the nearby stream for water. When he returned, he found the cabin door ajar.
"Elara?" he called, setting down the pail.
No answer.
He stepped inside.
The hearth was cold. The bed untouched. But something felt wrong.
A scent of smoke lingered in the air, along with something else… iron.
He spotted the note pinned to the wall with a dagger. It was written in shaky letters.
"We have her. Come alone if you want her back."
Aldric's heart sank.
His first instinct was rage, but rage was worthless without a plan.
He scanned the clearing. Footprints, four or five men, heavy boots. They had come from the east.
He packed only what he needed—his father's dagger, some dried meat, and the ring he hadn't worn since leaving Eldwyn.
He didn't know who had taken her or why, but he would search the forest to find her.
They held her in a ruined fort built into the hillside, hidden by overgrown vines and shadow. She was chained in a stone cell, her wrists raw and skin bruised.
The leader was Marek, a bounty hunter from the south who had once served Aldric's court. He wore a scar down his left cheek and smiled with a cruel delight.
"You're more than just a prize, girl," he said, crouching in front of her. "You're leverage."
Elara spat at his feet. "You don't even know what you're dealing with."
"Oh, I do," he said, amused. "You're the beast that bewitched the king. The one who made him give up his crown. That makes you worth more than gold."
He stood. "And when he comes—because we both know he will—I'll take his head. And yours."
Elara didn't reply. She closed her eyes and centered her breath.
Because the moon was coming.
And so was Aldric.
That night, the moon rose full and bright.
Aldric stood at the treeline, looking at the fort below.
Five men. One fort. One chance.
He gripped his dagger, heart pounding.
Then he moved.
Like a shadow through the trees.
He took out the first two guards silently—one with a rock, the other with a chokehold. The third noticed him too late. Aldric slashed the man's leg and left him unconscious.
Inside, the torches flickered. He could hear voices. Footsteps.
And then—
"Elara!"
Her voice was faint but alive.
He ran toward it, kicking open the cell door.
She was there—bloodied, bruised, but still breathing.
"Don't!" she shouted suddenly.
A blade glinted from the side.
Marek lunged, slashing toward Aldric's chest.
Aldric blocked it, barely, staggering back.
"You came," Marek sneered.
"I always will," Aldric growled.
They fought, steel clanging against steel, their grunts echoing through the stone halls.
Marek was stronger, but Aldric was faster. Smarter.
One slip. One misstep.
Aldric drove the dagger into Marek's side.
The man gasped, stumbled, then fell.
Elara watched, chained and trembling.
Without a word, Aldric broke the lock on her chains. He pulled her close.
"You came for me," she whispered.
"Always."
And in the moonlight, as blood cooled and silence fell, she kissed him.
With everything left inside her.
They left the fort in flames.
Together.
Alive.
And although the wilds were dangerous and the world unforgiving, they understood this:
They had faced the darkness.
And won.
Not with magic.
But with love.
And they would keep choosing each other—again and again.
Until their last breath beneath the wild sky.
To be continued....
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