Kaelen's footsteps faltered as he reached the door to Aelor's cabin. He had returned from the tense conversation with Aldric, his mind still heavy with the weight of their discussion. As he reached for the door handle, a faint sound drifted through the thin walls, the voices of Aelor and Rylan.
Aelor's voice was unmistakable, tinged with frustration and uncertainty. "I just... I don't know, Rylan. Things are moving so fast. I care about him, but what if I'm not ready for all of this? What if it's too much?"
Kaelen's breath caught in his throat, his heart sinking like a stone. His mind raced, parsing Aelor's words, trying to make sense of them. Was Aelor talking about him? Was he unsure about their relationship? The doubt in his voice... the hesitation—it was as if everything Kaelen had hoped for was suddenly slipping through his fingers.
Without thinking, Kaelen pulled his hand away from the door, stepping back. His chest tightened painfully. The thought of Aelor not being sure about him, not wanting to be with him after everything they had shared, hit harder than Kaelen was prepared for.
He turned away, his heart in turmoil. His thoughts spiraled into self-doubt. Maybe I'm not good enough for him. Maybe I'm just a monster in his eyes after all. The words echoed in his mind, each one heavier than the last. His pale hands clenched into fists at his sides, and he forced himself to take a few shaky steps away from the cabin, trying to escape the sting of the confusion and heartbreak.
Aelor had seemed so sure, so kind, but now it felt like all of that was just a fleeting dream, one he couldn't hold onto. The fear that he was just another fleeting moment in Aelor's life grew in his chest, threatening to crush him.
As he walked away from the cabin, Kaelen muttered under his breath, "I'm not good enough. I never was." His voice cracked slightly, and though he tried to keep his head held high, the ache in his chest was almost unbearable. The moonlight bathed the landscape around him, but it felt colder than ever, the gentle breeze carrying with it the weight of unspoken words and unmet expectations.
He didn't know where he was going, but he knew he couldn't stay there. Not like this. Not with his heart so raw. The distance between him and the cabin grew as he walked away, leaving the warmth of Aelor's home behind, even though every part of him wanted to turn back and ask for the truth. But he couldn't, not when his heart felt like it had been broken before he even had the chance to ask.
Kaelen had no idea where he was heading, only that he needed to get away—to find a place where he could feel anything other than this suffocating pain.
The rain came down in torrents, soaking Kaelen to the bone. His cloak clung to his skin, and the coldness of the storm seemed to seep into his very soul. He didn't care. He didn't stop. His thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion, pain, and loss. The weight of Aelor's words—or rather, the ones Kaelen had misunderstood—crushed him, and he wandered aimlessly, his mind far from any sense of direction.
But the sound of horses brought him back to reality, cutting through the rain like a thunderous drumbeat. He looked up just as a group of riders on horseback appeared in front of him, their faces masked by the shadows of their hoods. The horses' hooves splashed in the muddy ground, and the riders, clearly soldiers, stopped in their tracks.
One of them—tall and imposing—spoke, his voice laced with authority. "By the order of the Aldoria Councils and the approval of the King, Kaelen, you are to be taken back to the Church." He paused for a moment, letting the weight of his words sink in. "You will be put back to sleep once and for all."
Kaelen froze. His heart stopped. The Church? His mind raced to make sense of what was happening. The last place he wanted to return to was the prison of endless slumber—trapped in that cursed coffin. The thought alone made him shudder.
"No," Kaelen murmured, his voice hoarse from the rain and the sorrow that had gripped him. He took a step back, feeling the cold bite of the storm against his skin. "No, I'm not going back there."
The riders moved closer, their horses' hooves striking the wet earth with a rhythmic beat. One of them reached out, as though to grab him, but Kaelen swatted the hand away. His eyes burned with a cold fury. This can't be happening.
"I don't belong there anymore," he growled, clenching his fists, but even as he said the words, he knew that resistance might be futile. The Councils had made their decision. The King had spoken, and their orders were final.
The soldier who had spoken earlier raised an eyebrow, almost as if amused by Kaelen's defiance. "It's not up to you," he said, his tone cold. "You will come with us, vampire. Don't make this harder than it needs to be."
Kaelen's heart ached, and the rage that had been simmering inside him for so long began to boil over. He was tired—tired of being used, tired of being cast aside. His thoughts flashed to Aelor, the person who had shown him kindness and care. The person he had wanted to trust, but who—at least in his mind—had rejected him without ever saying the words. Aelor, please…
The rain continued to pour down in sheets, drenching everything in its path. Kaelen knelt on the muddy ground, his body searing with pain from the magic rope that burned against his skin. The enchanted rope was designed to keep him bound, but it felt like a cruel reminder of his helplessness. His heart pounded as he gazed up at the approaching figures, the Council members, who looked down at him with nothing but disdain and contempt. Their eyes, filled with coldness, seemed to strip him of any dignity he had left.
One of the Council members, an older elf with sharp features, stepped forward. "It's time to end this farce," he sneered. "Take him back to the Church, and make sure he never escapes again. He is a danger to us all."
The human soldiers standing nearby shifted uneasily at the command, clearly uneasy with what was being asked of them. However, the coin they had been promised was enough to override their doubts. They gripped their weapons tighter, ready to execute the order.
Kaelen's breath quickened as he was forced to stay on his knees, the pain from the rope unbearable. His eyes flared with anger, and he opened his mouth to argue, but no words could get past the fire in his chest. He was trapped—his past, his fate, all of it closing in on him. The rain lashed against him like an angry wind, but Kaelen was no longer afraid. Not of them. Not of the Council. He wasn't going back to that prison.
Summoning every ounce of strength left in him, Kaelen ripped the magical rope from his arms. The pain flared, a sharp agony that left him gasping, but he refused to yield. With a furious roar, he lunged toward the nearest human guard, pushing through the confusion and fear that had gripped them.
One of the soldiers, in his panic, drew his crossbow and aimed at Kaelen. The bolt shot forward, but it was wild. Kaelen ducked just in time, and the arrow flew past him, missing its target entirely. Instead, it struck the heart of one of the Council members who had been standing behind him. The elf's eyes widened in shock as blood poured from the wound, his life fading in an instant.
A scream filled the air, a combination of disbelief and terror. The human soldiers, panic rising in their throats, scattered in every direction, not willing to face the consequences of their actions. Some bolted into the forest, while others fled toward the safety of the city gates.
The scene became chaotic as the Council members rushed forward, the remaining elves who had been part of the Council shouting for help, some trying to heal the fallen elf, while others stared at Kaelen with hatred and fear.
"Monster!" one of the elves cried, pointing a trembling finger at Kaelen. "He killed him! He murdered one of the Council!"
Kaelen's chest tightened as the accusation stung, but his heart was numb. He hadn't meant to hurt anyone. He hadn't even wanted this to happen. The blood on the ground was a tragic consequence of a desperate struggle for freedom. But now, to the elves, he was nothing but a murderer—a threat to their society.
The guards and Council members who had once treated him with scorn now surrounded him, their eyes full of suspicion. The humans, still in a state of panic, had already disappeared into the rain, leaving the elf Council to deal with the aftermath. Kaelen stood alone, surrounded by the faces of the elves who would never see him as anything more than a beast to be controlled.
Aelor, hearing the commotion, rushed toward the scene, his heart sinking when he saw the blood and chaos. His gaze immediately locked onto Kaelen, who stood there, drenched and trembling, his body tense with the weight of the accusation.
"Aelor!" Kaelen called out desperately, his voice full of pain. But the words came too late, as the elves immediately turned on him, ready to cast him aside once more.
Kaelen couldn't stop the tide that was rising against him. Everything he had fought for—his place in this world, his love for Aelor, his desperate hope for a future—was slipping away like sand through his fingers.
The Council had already decided: Kaelen was a monster, a murderer. And no matter how hard he fought or how much he loved Aelor, nothing would change their minds now.