"Elias." The name left her lips like a prayer—half memory, half dream.
Her breath caught. The fear that had crept up from her feet now gave way to a slow, dawning confusion. She stared into the fog curling around the trees. Nothing. No figure. No sound. Only mist.
"What are you?" she whispered.
"Yours," came the reply.
Her throat tightened. For a moment, she couldn't breathe. What was this?
George had been the only man she'd ever loved—the only one to stir something real in her chest. Yet this voice, this presence that felt hauntingly familiar, made her heart flutter in the same dangerous way.
"Tell me who you are." The name sounded familiar, but she was sure—she'd never met anyone named Elias.
Then he stepped out from the shadows.
"I think you already know," he said, voice low and steady, "even if your soul doesn't. Yet."
Catherine sucked in a sharp breath.
He was there—leaning against a tree, shrouded in shadow. The darkness masked his features, but his eyes… they glowed red, piercing through the night like burning coals.
This man. The one whose voice had haunted the wind.
He was real!
"What are you talking about?" she whispered, her voice unsteady.
"Soon you'll know, my darling," he said, his voice smooth and low, almost intimate. "And you'll remember me."
She took a step back, though every part of her wanted to move closer. Her heart thundered.
"You're not making any sense," she said, trying to steady her voice.
But deep down, she knew. He was dangerous.
Her father's stories flashed through her mind—tales of creatures that lurked in the dark, feeding on human blood, waiting until you were weak enough to devour.
This man—this thing—was one of them.
Run, her mind screamed.
But she couldn't. Not yet.
"I won't come to you, my love," he said softly, his eyes glowing brighter. "Not until you remember who I am… and what I mean to you. Then, we'll be together."
Catherine froze.
Her breath caught as she realized something. "You read my letters," she said, voice trembling. "Why did you read them? I wrote to George… yet you read them as if they were meant for you."
"No, they weren't mine to read—I'll admit that," he said, voice calm, almost amused. "But he doesn't belong to you, Catherine. Because you are mine. And one day… you'll understand."
He remained hidden in the shadows, and she hated it—hated that she couldn't see his face, couldn't tell if he was lying or if the pull she felt was real.
She rubbed her gloved hands together and exhaled quietly, her breath curling into the cold air.
Losing George had hollowed something inside her. Numbed her. Maybe that was why she hadn't run.
"You have to tell me why you took my letters," she demanded, voice tight with frustration. Then she shook her head. "No—you have to return every single one I've written."
Her jaw clenched. The tremble in her voice gave way to steel.
"Oh no, I won't," came his cold, unfazed reply. "I love looking at them."
Run, her mind whispered.
He's one of 'those' creatures.
"Ask yourself why you remember my name," he said, his voice a soft echo through the fog.
Catherine's breath caught. "What?"
"You know my name," he repeated, "even though you've never seen my face."
She spun around, heart pounding. "You're insane!"
She had to reach the gate. She needed to get to the carriage. She needed to go home.
The drizzle began to fall, cold drops kissing her skin and sliding down her cheeks—her tears mixing with rain. Her body trembled, not just from the cold, but from the weight of it all.
George was gone.
And maybe this… this figure cloaked in shadow—this voice in the dark—wasn't real. Maybe she had gone mad.
Her father had warned her about creatures like this. One with fangs. Myths that feeds on your blood and thoughts.
But she hadn't wanted to believe them.
"I have to go home," she whispered, walking quickly—away from the shadow, the grave, the madness pressing in on all sides.
"You died for me once," his voice drifted after her, low and haunting.
She stopped cold. Then spun around.
Those red eyes were still there, glowing in the dark, locked onto hers.
"And I let you," he said quietly.
Her hand trembled. Her knees wobbled beneath her. She needed to leave—now.
"What… what are you talking about?" Her voice cracked under the weight of fear.
The wind howled through the trees, carrying his final words like a secret only she was meant to hear.
"You will remember."
Then—nothing.
The red eyes vanished, and with them, his presence disappeared completely.
Catherine staggered. This time, her legs gave out, and she collapsed to the ground.
"You will remember."
The words echoed in her mind.
Suddenly, a presence surrounded her. Gentle fingers brushed her cheek—someone was leaning over her.
She couldn't see his face, but she felt the warmth of his tears on her skin. Felt the tremor in his hands.
It was all so real.
"Stay with me," he whispered, voice thick with emotion.
But her own body was slipping—weakening. Her vision blurred. Her eyes drifted shut.
Her breath hitched.
She collapsed fully to the earth.
From somewhere far away, a voice called out, "Princess!"
The sounds around her were muffled.
"Quick, get her to the carriage!"
Strong arms scooped her up.
And then—nothing.
Only darkness.
~~~~~~~
She woke in a dream.
A field of white roses stretched endlessly around her, glowing under a soft, ethereal light. Her laughter rang out—pure, joyful—but it wasn't just hers. Someone else was laughing too. A man. His voice was deep and familiar, though she couldn't see his face.
Then strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her gently into a warm embrace.
The man leaned in close, his breath brushing her ear.
"My love," he whispered.
She smiled and turned to face him—but the moment shattered.
The roses began to burn.
Petals curled into ash. The air darkened. The world around her crumbled into shadows.
Suddenly, she saw herself—different now. Her dress was torn and old, soaked with blood.
A silver blade gleamed at her chest, buried deep.
"No... Don't die. Please, don't leave me," a voice choked out.
He was holding her—desperate, trembling.
"You can't leave me in this cold world. Not without you."
He sniffed, voice breaking, "You are my world. Don't leave me now. Don't you dare."
Her fingers trembled. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The world tilted around her, spinning out of focus, but the only word that escaped her weakening lips was his name.
"Elias…"
He cradled her tighter, his arms trembling.
"Stay with me. Please—I'm so sorry. Don't leave me."
"I… don't… blame you… for this, Elias," she whispered, each syllable fading.
His tears fell onto her cheek—warm, desperate, "No. Don't leave. Please, don't…"
He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
And then… her eyes closed.
Forever.
Suddenly, George's face appeared—screaming with rage, his eyes flashing with hate.
Tears welled up, blurring his vision as he reached for her, grabbing her hand so tightly she flinched.
"You're hurting me," she gasped, but his grip only tightened. His hazel eyes darkened with more fury, his scream echoing louder—until…
"Elias!"
She bolted upright in bed, gasping for breath.
The name burned fiercely on her lips.