The morning had started with the promise of adventure. The plan was simple enough—hunt a few ogopuu, enjoy the chase, and share the spoils later over fire-roasted potatoes. But as often happened in Killima, even the simplest plans unraveled.

First, Lexi announced she couldn’t come, tearing through the house in frustration after discovering one of her boots had gone missing. Then Rex sheepishly admitted that Kenyata had roped him into helping with something “important,” leaving Lyra staring at him with mock exasperation until he slipped out the door.

So it was down to four—Lyra, Hassian, Saraya, and Simon—gathering their gear by the forge when Sifuu burst through the door, apron dusted with soot and her braid half-unraveled.

“Hassian,” she said sharply, a little breathless, “I need you. Right now.”

The urgency in her tone made Hassian straighten immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“Rush order—massive,” Sifuu explained, gesturing toward the forge. “The Palian Guard needs ceremonial swords for an upcoming event in Bahari City. Their regular supplier fell short so they came to us. Our reputation is on the line if these aren’t finished by sundown. I can’t do it alone. I need you!”

Hassian’s jaw tightened, torn. His gaze flicked from his mother to Lyra, bow slung over his back, the morning sun glinting on the curve of the string.

Lyra touched his arm gently. “It’s okay. Help your mother—we’ll go another time.”

“Baby, you’ve been looking forward to this,” Hassian countered, his voice low with conflict. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Helping your mother is more important.”

Simon cleared his throat. “You do realize she wouldn’t be alone, right, Hass?”

Hassian hesitated, teeth gritting. “I know. She wouldn’t.” His gaze lingered on Lyra, memorizing every freckle. “Just… stay far away from the witch. I don’t think Tamala will bother you after the way we told her off, but just stay away from her anyway.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Lyra asked softly.

“Yes.” He cupped her cheek, leaning down until their foreheads touched. “Just stay away from her. Stay together. And stay safe.”

“I will, hunter.”

He kissed her, lingering for a heartbeat longer than usual. The words came easily, almost instinctively: “I love you.”

Lyra smiled, warmth filling her chest even as she turned to go. “I love you too.”

With Saraya and Simon waiting, she forced herself to let go of his hand. She didn’t look back until she reached the edge of the path. Hassian was still standing there, Tau at his side, watching her like he could will the forest into sparing her.

A Different Kind of Hunt

The afternoon in the Elderwood was quiet, broken only by the soft crunch of footsteps on the forest floor as Lyra, Saraya, and Simon hunted ogopuu. The day had been long, and though Lyra enjoyed the chase, Saraya’s pounding headache worsened as the hours passed. By mid-afternoon, the three agreed to call it a day.

Lyra didn’t mind leaving early—truthfully, she’d spent half the afternoon counting the hours until she could see Hassian again. Whenever he was pulled away for duty, something inside her tugged, a small ache she didn’t talk about. The forge wasn’t just where he worked; it was where he existed in the world, and she always wanted to meet him there.

They entered the Elderwood Central Stables and found it filled with energy.

Subira was buzzing around, her sharp eyes scanning the area with restless energy. “Lyra,” she called as she approached, “the missing boy was spotted this morning in the deep woods, dirty and malnourished. I’m organizing a search party to intervene.”

Lyra’s heart skipped. Memories of the boy trapped in the cave flooded back. Without hesitation, she spoke. “I can show them the cave where I found him before. Maybe it’ll help the search.”

“Are you sure?” Subira asked.

“I’m sure,” Lyra replied. “I just don’t want to go in too far—he might come to me since he’s seen me before.”

“I’ll go with her.” Nai’o said. “I’ll grab a couple others to join us.”

Lyra nodded at Saraya and Simon. “On your way back, would you mind stopping by the forge and let Hassian know what’s going on so he won’t worry.”

Saraya gave a tired but supportive nod, and Simon offered a small smile. “We’ll let him know. Be careful Lyra,” they said before turning back toward the path home.

With Kaja padding softly at her side, Lyra led the small search party toward the cave, ready to help however she could.

The group made their way through the thick underbrush, Lyra leading them with careful steps. Soon, they reached the cave entrance with the ventilation grate. Nai’o, eager and nimble, tugged it free with a grunt, and the opening yawned before them.

Lyra paused, taking a deep breath. “This is it—the place where I found him,” she said, voice low. She stepped inside, letting the others follow her a short distance. The faint echo of their footsteps bounced off the walls, but the air felt heavy, almost oppressive.

After a moment, the others began talking about searching the entire cave. Lyra’s chest tightened. She shook her head, her gaze fixed on the dark tunnel ahead. “I… I can’t do that. I don’t want to go back there,” she admitted, fear still lingering from her previous visit.

Nai’o nodded understandingly, a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Lyra. We’ve got it. You should head back to the Central Stables and wait for us.”

Lyra gave a small, grateful smile. “Thanks. Be careful.”

With a final glance at the dark entrance, she turned and made her way back, leaving the search party to explore the cave on their own.

The Huntress becomes the Hunted

Reluctantly, Lyra retraced her steps into the deep woods. Night had thickened into a soft, misty darkness that clung to the trees and tangled roots like a whisper of secrets.

Every step she took felt borrowed, like the forest was deciding whether to keep her. The mist clung to the edges of her clothes, chilling her skin, and the quiet was so deep it felt watchful, almost sentient.

A chill prickled along her skin, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose. She couldn’t shake the growing sense of being watched, unseen eyes tracking every step.

A sudden rustle in the underbrush made her pause. “Young man?” Her voice was soft but carried through the quiet woods. No answer. She took a hesitant step forward.

Then came the faintest crunch of footsteps—too light for a human, too deliberate for the wind. She spun around, heart quickening, but saw only the swaying shadows of the trees.

“I met you in the cave,” she called again, voice steadier now. “I brought you food. I don’t want to hurt you.” Silence answered.

Kaja’s ears pricked, her body stiffening as a low growl rumbled deep in her throat. With a sudden burst, the plumehound lunged forward, barking sharply.

Lyra’s eyes darted wildly but caught nothing in the darkness. “Kaja, come back here!” she urged, voice edged with tension.

Before she could react further, a massive wolf-like beast erupted from the bushes—snarling, eyes wild with feral fury. Kaja met the creature head-on, though clearly outmatched. A heavy paw swiped through the air, sending the plumehound flying. She hit the ground hard, a sharp crack echoing through the trees.

Lyra’s breath fractured in her chest. The sound of Kaja hitting the ground didn’t just scare her—it gutted her. She scrambled forward on instinct, heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the wind.

Lyra’s hand darted to her back for her bow—only to grasp empty air. Panic flared. She had left it behind at the Central Stables in the rush to join the search.

The beast advanced slowly, lips curled back in a menacing snarl, teeth glinting in the dim light. Dropping to her knees, Lyra scooped Kaja into her arms. Her mind raced—should she run, or would that provoke the creature further?

Then, like a sudden crack of thunder, an arrow sliced through the mist, striking the beast’s shoulder. A guttural grunt escaped it, but it didn’t retreat.

The moment she heard the twang of his bowstring, her knees nearly buckled. Relief flooded through her so fast it felt like breaking.

Hassian came darting through the shadows, voice sharp and steady. “Get back!” His bow was already drawn, releasing two more arrows that found their marks. The creature let out a mournful wail and, defeated, scrambled away into the darkness.

In an instant, Hassian was at her side, arms wrapping around her protectively. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Lyra’s breath caught as she glanced down at Kaja.

“Is she okay?”

“I think so,” Lyra whispered.

“Let’s get out of here and check her properly,” Hassian said, his arm steady around her shoulders as they hurried toward the Central Stables, the forest closing silently behind them.

The Letter

When they got back to the central stables, Hassian checked Kaja over while Lyra told Subira what had happened. Her paws seemed fine—no breaks—and she was walking without a limp. The plumehound was already perking up now that Tau was close by.

Hassian pulled a travel bowl from his satchel, poured in fresh water from his canteen, and set it in front of her.

“I’m just glad you decided to come find her,” Subira said.

“You’re glad?” Hassian looked up at her. “When Saraya and Simon stopped by, I just… got this feeling that I had to get to her.”

His voice was steady, but Lyra caught the flicker behind his eyes—the kind of fear that comes from imagining life without someone.

Lyra reached over and took his hand. “It’s been years since anyone’s heard of that beast attacking anyone. Why me?” she asked softly, before muttering, “Why is it always me?”

Her voice trembled, though she tried to hide it. She’d asked that question too many times in her life, and the forest seemed to keep offering new reasons.

Hassian took her hand in both of his. “Your scent. You’ve been in its cave twice now. It sees you as a threat.”

“The cave…” Lyra repeated, her gaze going distant.

“You’re safe now, baby. I’ve got you,” Hassian said gently.

“I never told you all about the cave,” she murmured, almost to herself. “After all that happened…”

She hesitated, then continued. “There was a large nest—made of straw and blankets. But there was also a bed. A regular twin-sized bed. And a table, and a chair. Baskets of apples. Bright light. And… a letter. I picked it up.”

She dug into her satchel, searching until she pulled out the crumpled paper from the bottom. She read aloud:

T—

I don’t know what sort of cure you’re looking for, and I don’t care.

Trying to harvest this infection is insane, not to mention dangerous. Please stop writing to me.

If anyone in the organization finds out I’m still talking to you—or even that you’re still alive—they’ll have both our heads.

–E

Lyra handed the letter to Subira, who read it again slowly.

“‘T,’” Hassian said. “Subira, was Tamala at her stand while Lyra was out?”

“No,” Subira replied. “She left a few minutes after Lyra, supposedly going to search as well.”

“The old witch being concerned about a lost child?” Lyra said.

“Exactly,” Hassian muttered. “Smells fishy.”

Hassian’s gaze flicked to Lyra, narrowing. “Don’t get any ideas. Neither of us is getting tangled up with that witch—she’s already tried to curse you again, and we don’t know how long these charms will hold.”

“I agree,” Subira said firmly. “This is not a mission for the two of you.”

“The organization in that letter has to be the Order,” Lyra said.

“I agree with that too,” Subira replied. “I’ll do some asking around—see if I can figure out who ‘E’ is.”

Hassian shifted Kaja’s weight in his arms and glanced toward the stables. “Let’s get home. You and Kaja both need rest.”

They said their goodnights to Subira, then turned toward the quiet streets, leaving the letter—and its dangers—behind them. For now.

Safe at Home

The conservatory was quiet, save for the faint hum of crickets outside. Dinner was behind them, Kaja was curled in her pillow with Tau watching over her, and the scent of clean soap lingered faintly from their showers. Lyra sat with Hassian on the bench at the foot of the bed, her fingers twined with his, the weight of the night still pressing at the edges of her chest.

She broke the silence first. “You win,” she said softly. “I think you’re right. The beast isn’t just random—it has an interest in me because I’ve been in its cave. I’m not going to the Elderwood without you again.”

Hassian’s hand tightened around hers, but he didn’t speak right away. His jaw worked as if he was chewing on something unspoken, eyes dark and unreadable in the lamplight.

Finally, he drew in a long breath. “There’s something I want to tell you,” he said, voice rough. “Something I never planned on saying.”

Hassian’s jaw worked as if he was wrestling something heavy inside himself. Lyra recognized the look—he’d carried that expression the day he gave her the key to the Grove, the day he told her about his momma. He only made that face when a truth inside him demanded air.

Lyra turned toward him, brows lifting in quiet curiosity.

“The night before I met you,” Hassian began slowly, almost haltingly, “I prayed. Not for a name, not for a face—just for a woman who would see me, really see me. Someone who would love me, who wouldn’t leave.” He let out a low, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “I didn’t expect an answer. I just… I asked.”

The admission cracked something tender inside her. Hassian didn’t talk about prayer often—not because he lacked faith, but because his feelings ran so deep he rarely trusted them with words.

His eyes met hers, steady now. “And the very next day, you came storming into my life.” He hesitated, voice softening. “As I watched you walk away that day, all I could think was—let it be her.”

The breath left her in a quiet, broken rush. A single tear slipped down before she even realized. It wasn’t sadness—it was a strange, aching joy. A kind she had never known. Her fingers tightened around his, eyes stinging as she whispered, “Hunter…”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers, the familiar anchor of his presence wrapping around her. “It’s you, baby. It’s always been you.”

And in the quiet sanctuary of their conservatory, beneath the hush of the night, Lyra finally believed it—and held him close as if she never planned to let go. The rest of the world could wait.

“You’re here.” he said softly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered, her fingers tightening around his.

Hassian swallowed hard, his voice quieter than the lamplight. “Now… let’s get in the bed,” he murmured, a shy edge softening the gravel of his tone. “I just want to hold you as tight as I can.”

Lyra rose with him, fingers still locked with his. The night outside hummed softly, the conservatory aglow with the muted shimmer of starlight through the glass. And as he pulled her into the circle of his arms, she felt his breath settle, slow and certain, like holding her set the world right again.

Here, safe against his chest, the fear of the Elderwood finally loosened its grip—and she let herself melt into the one place she trusted with every part of her....him.