THE FIGURE TURNS towards me, and the realization hits me like a physical blow, stealing the breath from my lungs.

His features are illuminated briefly in the stark lightning before plunging back into darkness, and I see a face I do not recognize. I know I've never seen him before, because he is unforgettable.

His profile holds a strikingly inhuman symmetry. A flawless arrangement of features carved with more perfection than that of any angel on our church walls. His large chin has a refined sharp contour, complimenting the subtle arch of his nose. Dark chestnut curls frame his face, cascading in effortless waves around a sculpted jawline, barely even tousled by the wind. Draped across his shoulders billows a fur hooded cloak of two fabrics, the outside icy royal blue velvet, and the inside laced with a white fabric that gleams. Underneath, a white leather jerkin and trousers that shimmer with a silvery sheen of detailed lace. Each line and curve is as thin as a spider's web, catching the light in a mesmerizing dance.

It reminds me of the pattern that formed on the window of the cellar, as if tiny crystals were woven in. From beneath his cloak, tanned skin glows otherworldly.

But it's not his ethereal beauty that freezes me in place. It's his eyes.

Pools with depths as dark as the ocean. Swirling sapphire and twilight blue. Just shades off from being completely black.

The word is in my head before I can even understand the implications.

Fae.

When we lock eyes, there is a primal instinct of danger that unleashes through my veins. The power of his saturated gaze stabs through the blizzard, locking onto me with a magnetic pull that I cannot resist. But the intensity in his hardened features shifts as his gaze lowers from the eyes of the Daenara, to my own, and he studies my face. His eyes soften almost imperceptibly, and a ghost of a smile plays on his lips, like he knows something I don't. His lips part, as if about to speak, but then, from behind him, steps my father. Orion's expression is grave, weathered with pure worry and exhaustion, but once he realizes it is me riding Solaris, underneath his pelt, it holds something worse.

Fear.

"There she is," the stranger's voice is deep, booming without intention, as if somehow the very wind is eager to carry his words. "I knew it."

The stranger raises his hands, captivating eyes never wavering from mine.

And just like that.

The howling winds die down to a mere whisper, the snowflakes hang frozen in mid-air, and the crackling lightning fades away. Time itself seems to slow. The dense, charcoal clouds very so slowly part, and thin rays of sunlight stream through the gaps. The beams stretch out like fingers, eagerly reaching towards the earth below.

I don't have time to respond before Orion roars, "Your business is with me alone!"

But the stranger doesn't flinch at my father's words. Instead, he slowly lowers his hands and inclines his head in a gesture of acknowledgment towards my father. His gaze never leaves mine, though, as if I'm the only thing in this frozen moment that truly matters to him.

"My business is with the proph-"

But he's caught off when Solaris squeals, rearing up on her hind legs and kicking at the air as if to ward off an unseen threat. The stranger is quick to react, stepping back and raising his hand in a calming gesture towards the suddenly skittish doe.

Aunt Elora always says that animals can sense danger long before we do, and I can't help thinking Solaris's reaction means something more. Her eyes, usually gentle and trusting, are now wild with unbridled fear. She refuses to calm down for him, her bronze hooves thrashing against the snow-covered ground as she lets out a series of panicked knickers.

A knot of dread tightens in my stomach.

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The stranger's gaze flickers from me to Solaris, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes, sharp as daggers. They assess her every move with a speed that sends shivers down my spine. With trembling hands, I reach out to stroke her velvet soft muzzle, shushing gently in her ear. Slowly, her thrashing hooves quiet down. Her panicked whinnies soften into low whickers of distress.

"Tamer of the swift," The stranger awes, almost as if to himself.

A chill creeps down my spine at his words, the way he says it with a reverence that sends unease prickling over my skin.

"I AM the tamer of the swift," My father's regains the attention of the stranger, his voice rumbling just as powerful. "Solaris is my beast, and the girl is under my protection."

"Your protection is commendable Orion, but she hardly needs much of it." The stranger tilts his head, a small smirk playing on his lips. He takes a step towards Solaris and I, the icy wind swirling around him in a hypnotic dance. The snowflakes around us begin to quiver, as if responding to his presence.

"You know nothing of what she needs." Orion's jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing as he steps forward, placing himself between me and the figure.

At this the stranger laughs, heartily. "I know everything, Orion."

"Then know of the lengths I will go to in order to protect her and Elora."

At the mention of Aunt Elora's name, Solaris jerks her head up as if startled, her ears flicking back. The stranger's smile fades, replaced by a flicker of something darker. As if hearing her name causes physical pain, Solaris's entire body quivers.

My heart races in my chest, a sense of foreboding settling over me like a heavy black veil.

The feeling of danger pulses through me, raising the hairs on my arms as I cling tightly to Solaris. She rises once again on her hind legs, before with a sudden movement, so quickly I'm almost thrown off, she bolts. The stranger's gaze follows Solaris's retreat, his expression hardening into a mask of determination. Her powerful muscles propel us with an elegant grace, and I cling desperately to her back, my heart pounding in sync with her thunderous hoofbeats.

There is no question to where she is going.

With each stride, the distance between us and the safety of the cottage shrinks, but the feeling of impending danger looms ever larger. I can sense it like a tangible presence, pressing in on us from all sides. The stranger's laughter echoes behind us, haunting and chilling. The destruction of the village unfolds before my eyes in a blur. Billows of black smoke rise into the sky like a funeral pyre, tendrils twisting and curling like malevolent spirits set loose upon the world. Shops lie in crumbled ruins, their once sturdy walls reduced to piles of stone rubble, charred timber, and ash. Massive trees plucked raw of their leaves, discarded above ground where their gnarled roots stick out like the skeletal fingers of giants.

The sight of homes reduced to nothing but remnants of what once was, families torn apart, and lives shattered sends a wave of anguish crashing over me. I can't tear my gaze away from the devastation, the village I've known all my life now a graveyard of memories. I lean low over Solaris's neck, tears streaming down my face as I cling to her mane. I can feel Solaris's muscles bunching and releasing beneath me, her breath coming in sharp gasps as she runs with a desperation I've never felt before. The wind howls in my ears, drowning out any other noise as we race into the thick undergrowth of the forest.

It passes us in a dizzying whirl of greens and browns. Branches whip against my face, stinging like angry bees, as Solaris gallops faster and faster.

As we burst into the clearing of our meadow, a group of black birds in the bushes take off, and fear grips my heart in a vice, squeezing out any rational thought as I see the cottage.

The last few meters blur into a haze of adrenaline-fueled panic as I take in the sight of smoke no longer curling from our chimney, leaving the cottage looking cold and empty, devoid of the warmth that once permeated its walls. Aunt Elora's beautiful, inviting garden now lay in ruin, flowers trampled and torn from their beds.

But her safety is the only thing on my mind, the only thing that really matters in this moment. Thoughts of grief echo around my skull, as I slide off Solaris's back, landing unsteadily on my feet as I stare at the desolate scene before me. Desperately, my ears cling to silence, waiting for a sign of life. My sandals no longer sink into the snow as I land. The soil has turned into an unyielding sheet of ice, and the only thought I have, is that the ground will be too frozen to bury Aunt Elora.

In a cruel twist of fate, even in death, nature seems to be denying her peace.

When I find her body, lifeless and still, she's laying next to the fireplace. Every blanket in the cottage has been laid in her lap. Her once braided hair has been viciously untangled, spread like a shimmering silver halo around her. My throat catches as I sink to my knees next to her.

Aunt Elora's eyes are closed. It's the most peaceful I've seen her look in months. All her worry lines, gone. A layer of lacy snow coats her slightly parted lips.

With trembling hands, I reach out. My fingers trace her icy cheeks, as if it isn't too late to chase away the chill. In the distance, The winter winds howl, their mournful cry echoing through our now barren trees.

Slowly, I gather her loose strands of hair. The bitter cold bites at my fingers as I cradle the silky strands in my hands. Through blurred vision, I begin to braid the strands back together, one by one.

I do not stop, even as I hear the stranger and my father enter behind me.