The forest was alive, but it was not kind. Cicadas hummed their endless dirge, wind whispered warnings through cedar and pine, and every crunch of her footsteps sounded like a crime. She should have turned back. The villagers had told her the mountain was cursed. Hunters warned of a shadow that swallowed men whole. Still, she pressed deeper, lantern in hand, because curiosity was a hunger stronger than fear.
The air changed. Not wind—presence. Heavy, suffocating, as though unseen doors had slid shut behind her. She froze, pulse roaring in her ears. And then the shadows shifted, and he stepped into the clearing.
Tall. Too tall. Broad shoulders, long hair spilling like midnight silk. The lantern's flame trembled across a face both beautiful and impossible: six golden eyes glinting in the dark, unblinking, merciless. They pinned her in place the way a blade pins silk to a table.
Her body screamed run. Her legs refused.
"You should not be here."
His voice was deep, deliberate—a blade sheathed in velvet. He did not growl. He did not rush. He only stated, as if the mountain itself had borrowed his tongue.
Her grip on the lantern faltered, but her voice betrayed her with steadiness. "And yet," she whispered, "here I am."
Silence pressed between them. His eyes did not waver, and she swore the trees themselves leaned closer to listen. When he moved, it was with the weight of inevitability, each step coiling the night tighter around her.
Up close, he was worse. Worse, because he was more human. Six eyes burned, but behind them was a face cut from legend: strong jaw, stern brows, a warrior's symmetry. A man's face buried inside a monster's. A tragedy wearing flesh.
Her breath stuttered. His gaze sharpened.
"You carry no weapon," he said, almost curious. "Do you not fear death?"
"I fear it," she admitted. Her pulse betrayed her, hammering in her throat. "But I fear regret more."
His hand twitched. Fingers long, elegant, trembling with restraint. For a heartbeat, she thought he might reach for her—whether to crush her or to hold her, she could not tell. But he closed his fist and let it fall back to his side.
"You are reckless," he said softly, and the softness cut sharper than any blade. "Reckless things do not live long."
"Maybe," she breathed. "But reckless things are remembered."
Something flickered then. A fracture across his composure—pain, recognition, memory. He turned away like a man who had almost stepped into a river but feared drowning.
Before the shadows reclaimed him, he paused. "Leave," he murmured. "While you still can."
And then he was gone.
The forest exhaled. Her knees weakened. But her chest burned with something far more dangerous than fear.
It was fascination.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Elegy Of The Moon
FanfictionThey told her the mountain was cursed. They told her a demon lived there-six eyes, endless hunger, death in his shadow. They told her not to go. But curiosity is stronger than fear. When she steps into the forest, she doesn't find a beast foaming at...
