Veins of Desire

The sun had just begun its descent, casting golden light through the thick canopy of trees surrounding Eldergrove. Elara walked the narrow forest path with practiced ease, a woven basket swinging at her side. She had come to gather rare herbs that grew in the deeper woods, far from the bustle of the village.

The air was crisp, filled with the earthy scent of pine and damp soil. This was her sanctuary a place where she could escape the weight of her responsibilities. Yet today, a strange unease followed her, as if the trees themselves whispered secrets she could not understand.

She pushed the thought aside and knelt by a cluster of nightshade, its delicate purple flowers peeking through the underbrush. As she reached out to pick the herbs, a low groan broke the forest's stillness.

Elara froze, her heart racing. The sound was faint but unmistakable. She rose slowly, her eyes scanning the shadows. "Hello?" she called, her voice steady despite her rising apprehension.

No answer came, only the rustle of leaves in the wind. Tightening her grip on her basket, she followed the sound deeper into the woods. It didn't take long to find the source.

There, slumped against the gnarled trunk of an ancient oak, was a man. His clothes were torn, and blood seeped from a gash across his chest. His dark hair clung to his forehead, and his face, though handsome, was pale as death.

Elara hesitated. Every instinct told her to turn back to leave this stranger to his fate. But the healer in her could not ignore someone in need. She approached cautiously, kneeling beside him.

"Sir? Can you hear me?" she asked, gently shaking his shoulder.

His eyes fluttered open, revealing irises of an unusual silver hue. For a moment, he stared at her as if seeing a ghost. "You…" he rasped, his voice weak but laced with something she couldn't place.

"You're injured," she said, brushing off his odd reaction. "We need to stop the bleeding."

She reached into her basket, pulling out a clean cloth and a small vial of antiseptic. As she worked, she couldn't help but notice the unnatural chill of his skin. It wasn't like any fever or sickness she'd encountered before.

"Who are you?" she asked softly, more to fill the silence than out of genuine curiosity.

"Lucian," he murmured. His gaze fixed on her birthmark, visible now as her sleeve had slipped up. "The crescent moon… it's real."

Elara blinked, pulling back slightly. "How do you know about my mark?"

Lucian's lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile. "You're more important than you realize, healer. They'll come for you… and for me."

"Who will come?" she pressed, her voice firm.

But Lucian's strength seemed to falter. His eyes closed, and he slumped forward, unconscious. Panic welled in Elara's chest. She couldn't leave him here not in this state.

With effort, she managed to hoist him onto her shoulder, her slender frame straining under his weight. She staggered back toward the village, her mind racing with questions. Who was this man? How did he know about her birthmark? And what danger was he talking about?

When she finally reached her cottage, the sky had darkened, and her arms ached from carrying him. She laid him carefully on the spare cot by the fireplace and set to work cleaning his wounds.

As she stitched the gash across his chest, she noticed something else his blood was darker than any she'd seen, almost black in the dim light. Unease prickled at her skin, but she pushed it aside.

Once his wounds were tended to, Elara sat back, studying his face. He looked peaceful now, but there was an undeniable power about him, even in sleep. She couldn't explain it, but something told her that this man was unlike anyone she had ever met.

As the fire crackled softly in the hearth, she felt the familiar warmth of Selene's presence. The sorceress stood in the doorway, her gaze sharp and knowing.

"Who is he?" Selene asked, her tone carefully neutral.

"I don't know," Elara admitted. "But he knows about my mark. And he said something something about danger."

Selene's expression darkened. "The winds are shifting, child. His arrival is no coincidence. You must tread carefully. The path ahead will test you in ways you cannot yet imagine."

Elara's eyes flickered to the unconscious man. For the first time in her life, she felt the weight of something larger than herself a destiny she wasn't sure she was ready to face.