"Where is he?" Isadora's voice cracked.
The bowl of soup slipped from her hands, falling on the floor. She didn't care. She began to tear the room apart.
Isa fell to her knees to check under the bed, then ran to the window. She scanned the yard, searching but there was nothing.
No, she thought, shaking her head. He couldn't have jumped out of the window. Not with those wounds. He can barely stand.
Then, she suddenly remembered something.
Her stomach dropped.
The winter stock.
Isadora didn't wait for an answer. She ran. Her feet were loud on the wooden floor of the corridor as she burst out of the house. The cold air hit her face, but she didn't slow down.
She ran straight for the storage house.
Isadora gripped the wooden handle and flung the barn door open.
Everything looked perfect.
The sacks of grain were stacked high. The dried meat hung exactly where it should. Not a single seed was missing.
"He didn't steal the food?" she breathed.
If he wasn't a thief, then where is he?
She hurried back into the house, her eyes going from corner to corner. She checked the silver spoons, the blankets, even the small tin of coins hidden on the shelf to make sure everything was still there.
Nothing was missing
The house was neat, exactly as she had left it.
Isadora sat on the kitchen chair, her legs finally giving out.
"Maybe he just wanted to leave," she whispered to the empty walls. "I can't force him to stay. If he didn't steal anything, I should just let him go."
But then, she pictured his pale face and the way his clothes had soaked with blood yesterday. She looked at the door, then back at the empty room.
"But he is hurt," she argued with herself. "He can barely move, let alone survive in the woods. How far can a dying man get before the cold finishes what those wounds started?"
Isadora scowled as she remembered the empty room. Part of her wanted to stay right here and forget he ever existed but the other part didn't.
Why should I care? She couldn't help but wonder
He had left without a single word. No note, no "thank you," nothing.
"Fine," she hissed. "Go then. Die in the dirt."
But her feet wouldn't stay still. Her grandmother had spent hours fighting to keep him breathing. She hadn't saved his life just for him to become wolf bait in the woods.
He owes me, she thought, her anger bubbling up. A proper goodbye, a 'thank you,' or at least a few silver coins for my trouble.
"Curses!" Isadora barked. She slammed her palm against the wooden table, making the empty bowls rattle.
"I have to find him before my grandmother return" she muttered.
Isa stepped out on the porch. The evening air was cool, blowingher hair. She looked up at the sky; the sun was already setting. Darkness was coming fast.
Isadora closed her eyes and took a deep breath. To find a man who didn't want to be found, she needed his scent. And to catch his scent, she had to wake the blood magic in her veins.
Isadora knew the risks. She couldn't use her blood magic on other people; the crows would smell it instantly. But using it on herself was different. As long as the magic stayed inside her body, no creature could detect it.
She stood still and closed her eyes as she focused her magic
Her heart began to pound like a drum. She felt her blood rushing through her veins, moving faster and faster. She redirected the energy to her head, forcing her nose to be sharper than normal.
Then she opened her eyes, they were glowing red for a few seconds before going back to normal.
The world smelled different, she could smell everything, both the ones she wanted to and the ones she didn't want.
She decided to focus on the scent of the stranger. She knew how he smelled, after all she had carried him all the way from the river to her home.
Isa began to run, following the scent through the village until it led her toward the road to a place she knew too well.
The Northern Springs.
The springs? Isadora slowed down, confused. Why would he go back there? That is the very place she found him unconscious.
Isadora fought her way through the forest, shoving tree branches aside and tripping over roots. Finally, the trees cleared, and she reached the edge of the northern spring river.
Her breath stopped as she gasped
A figure was laying on the mossy river bank like a log, clearly unconscious. Even from a distance, she knew it was him.
"No!" she cried, sprinting to him. She stopped and dropped to her knees beside him. "You... you idiot!"
He was unconscious. The deep wound on his stomach, the one her grandmother had worked so hard to seal with magic, had opened again. Fresh, dark blood came from it, staining the grass.
His clothes were wet, and his hair was matted with river water. He must have tried to swim across the spring. His skin was pale, not just white, but a ghostly kind of grey.
"Are you dead?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Did you really drag yourself out here just to die?"
She leaned down, pressing her ear against his chest.
His heartbeat was silent at first then she heard a tiny thump. It was so faint she almost missed it.
She pressed two fingers against his nose but felt nothing, he was not breathing.
Isa panicked.. She grabbed his wrist, searching for a pulse. She soon found one, it was a weak flutter.
"He's still alive," she breathed, her mind racing a mile a minute. "But barely."
He was dying. Isadora knew that by the time she dragged him home to her grandmother, he would be a corpse.
A dark thought entered her mind. She could use her blood magic. It was the only way to heal him completely.
"No," she hissed, shaking her head violently. "Never again."
She had spent three years living in peace, hiding what she was. Her sister Amelia had risked everything to save her. Her grandmother had protected her. Even her mother in heaven would never forgive her if she threw her life away for a stranger. Using her magic was like lighting a signal fire for her enemies. It was a death sentence.
"Wake up, you strange man!" she shouted. She balled her hand into a fist and hit him on the chest, not hard enough to break a rib, but hard enough to start his heart. "You can't die yet! You still owe me silver for the first time I saved you!"
She pressed her ear to his chest again and heard nothing.
The silence was terrifying. She hit him again, harder this time. "Wake up! Breathe!"
Nothing. His skin was as cold as ice.
Isadora stared at his pale face. Her heart was beating so hard it hurt. Her eyes drifted down to his lips. They were blue.
She bit her own lip, her mind spinning. Was she really going to do this? This...this act?
She had never kissed anyone. Not once. Her first time was supposed to be special, or at least with someone she liked. Now, she was about to press her mouth against a dying stranger just to blow life back into his lungs.
"You owe me for this," Isadora grumbled.
She leaned forward, closing her eyes. She lowered her head until her lips finally touched his. They were cold, as cold as a winter morning but strangely soft.
Her heart jumped. She felt a strange feeling in her chest, but she didn't stop. She tilted his head back, opened his mouth, and forced the air from her own lungs into his.
She pulled away and hit his chest again. "Wake up!"
Nothing. He was still a statue.
"Why won't you breathe?" she whispered, her voice filled with frustration. She leaned down a second time, blowing her breath into him again.
"Come on! Don't you dare die on me!"
She was moving in for the third time when something happened.
His eyes snapped open and stared straight into hers.
Isadora froze, a small smile of relief starting to form on her lips. "You are awake.." she started to say.
But the words died in her throat.
Faster than a snake, the stranger's hand shot up.
His fingers went around her neck. He wasn't holding her, he was strangling her. His stare was icy, filled with hatred.
"What the..." Isadora's mind went blank.
She grabbed his wrist, trying to push his hand away. She expected his hand to move easily, but it didn't move. She pulled with all her might, gasping for air, but his hold was too strong.
She couldn't move him.
How? she thought, panicking. She had always been powerful. In her entire life, she had never met anyone physically stronger than her.
"It's... it's me!" she choked out. Her face was turning red as she clawed at his fingers. "I... saved... you!"
The moment she spoke, something changed. The stranger's " eyes flickered, and his memory seemed to return. He let go of her neck instantly. The cold, lifeless look in his eyes softened into something that looked almost like an apology.
Isadora rubbed her bruised throat as she glared at him. She was good at reading people, and she could tell he hadn't meant to hurt her. It was pure instinct, the move of a man used to waking up in a fight.
"Curses on me for trying to save everyone," she barked, coughing hard. The air felt sweet as it rushed back into her lungs. "I should have let you drown.
The man didn't answer. He turned to the side and began coughing up river water, his whole body shaking as he struggled to sit up.
"You!" Isadora pointed a finger at him as soon as she caught her breath. "Do you have any idea how much work it was to save you the first time? I had to carry you to the house on my back. You are like a bag of stones! And now you just throw it all away by jumping in a river? And you tried to kill me just now!"
He was huge, at least 6'3" with the build of a warrior, not a common farmer. He was easily triple her weight.
"Tell me," she demanded. "Why did you come back here? What were you looking for?"
As usual, he remained silent. He sat on the damp grass and looked down at his stomach. He let out a groan due to the pain, his hand trembling as he pressed it against the wound. Dark blood began to seep through his fingers again.
"My grandmothers worked so hard to heal that," she said, running her hands through her hair in frustration. "They are old. They don't have the energy to do it twice! How are they supposed to fix this now?"
She ran her fingers through her hair, her heart racing. "I can't even use my bloo.."
She stopped. The word hung in the air, half-finished. She had almost blurted out her secret to a total stranger.
Isadora bit her tongue and glanced at the man. He was staring up at her, his eyes filled with questions.
Isadora looked at him, then looked away, then snapped her eyes back to his.
"I don't believe for a second that you can't hear me," she said, leaning in. "Your face always gives you away."
The moment the words left her mouth, his eyebrow twitched. It was a tiny movement, an ordinary person would have missed it but Isadora saw everything.
"There! See?" she said, pointing a finger. "That's exactly what I mean. You can hear me perfectly. And listen to this: you owe me. Big time. I just saved your life for the second time today."
As she spoke, her eyes drifted down to his hand. His fingers were clenched tight around something small, holding it like his life depends on it. She became curious.
"What's that?" she asked.
She stretched her hand out to see what he was hiding, but before she could touch him, his hand stopped her. He caught her wrist mid-air. His grip was a balance; firm enough to stop her, but soft enough not to hurt.
Then suddenly, he yanked her closer to him with her wrist he was holding. .l
Isadora let out a gasp as she tumbled toward him.
Suddenly, her face was too close to his.
She could feel his breath on her skin. She watched as a drop of river water rolled down his forehead, traced the line of his cheek, and disappeared into the collar of his wet clothes. Up close, he was devastatingly handsome. His features were too perfect for a normal man.
Isadora gulped. Her heart started that embarrassing, beating again. She hoped he couldn't hear it.
His eyes traveled slowly over her face. He looked at her eyes, her nose, and her cheeks, as if he were memorizing every inch of her. Finally, his eyes drifted down to her lips.
His eyes stayed on her lips for a second before looking back into her eyes. He opened his mouth, his voice deep and raspy.
"Do you ever stop talking?"
Isadora's brain froze. She stared at him, her mouth hanging open.
"You..." she stammered, her heart racing faster than before. "You can speak? You actually have a voice?"
He didn't answer. He just watched her, his hold still firm on her wrist. But before she could ask more questions, she heard a whistle from the forest.
Isadora's head snapped toward the sound. Her eyes widened when she saw it. An arrow was flying out of the forest, aimed straight for her head.
There was no time to move. No time to dive. The world seemed to slow down as the arrow came closer and closer . She was going to die.
Thwack!
A massive hand blurred past her face. The stranger next to her caught the arrow mid air just inches away from her forehead.
Isadora froze. Her heart skipped a beat, and she slowly turned her head. The stranger was holding the arrow, his expression calm, as if he had just caught a falling leaf.
How was that possible? Nobody could move that fast. It was impossible. It was... unnatural.
Before she could process it, the sound of boots crunching on leaves came from the shadows. Isadora looked toward the trees.
About Ten men stepped out of the darkness. They were dressed in black, their faces hidden behind dark veils. Only their eyes were visible. They moved like predators.
They were assassins, Isadora realized, her skin crawling.
"We have finally found you," one of the men said to the stranger beside. He stepped forward, holding a bow. He was the one who had tried to kill her.
Isadora looked at the stranger sitting beside her. He didn't look afraid. He didn't even look surprised. He just sat there with that same bored expression, as if ten armed killers were nothing more than a swarm of flies.
The lead assassin pointed his blade at the stranger.
"Now," the man hissed, "it is time for you to die, El Kai."
.
.
.