No one came this deep into the woods. Not unless they were lost. Or stupid. Or looking for her.
Elira sat alone in the ruins of what used to be a chapel — now just broken stone and wild vines, half-swallowed by the forest. The fire she built crackled low, casting soft light on her skin. She kept her hood up, even here. Just in case.
They called her "The Cursed Princess". Like a bedtime story. Like a warning.
She hated that name.
Not because it was wrong — but because it was the only thing people remembered. Not her face. Not her family. Not what really happened that night.
Only the curse.
Something moved. A sound — light, but there.
She didn't breathe.
Then, footsteps. Careful. Confident. Too steady to be scared.
Elira stood slowly, heart hammering. Her magic stirred beneath her ribs like smoke waking up.
A man stepped into the firelight. Cloak, boots, dark eyes. Calm. He wasn't pointing a sword at her. He wasn't running either.
"Didn't expect anyone out here," she said, voice cold.
"I did," he replied.
She studied him. Tall. Unbothered. Staring at her like he already knew what she was.
"You should leave."
"You're Elira."
Not a question.
Her magic flared on instinct. Soft at first — a brush of heat, a whisper in the blood. It wasn't just beauty. It moved through people, melted their minds, broke them if it had to.
But not him.
He didn't blink. Didn't step back. Didn't even look like it touched him.
"What the hell are you?" she asked, more to herself.
"I was going to ask you the same thing," he said. "Except I already know."
"And?"
He took a step closer.
"Your magic doesn't work on me."
She should've run. Should've hit him with fire, shadow, anything.
But she didn't. She stepped forward instead. Close enough to smell smoke and snow on his coat. Close enough to want to know what his mouth felt like.
Then something hit her — hard. Not a fist. Not a spell. The curse.
She gasped and stumbled, pain slicing across her chest. He winced too — like something inside him cracked.
They looked at each other.
Something old. Something dangerous. Something binding.
They couldn't touch.
But the worst part?
They both already wanted to.