Chapter 29
Kora’s POV
The days began to blur together after that. We moved fast, too fast to stop and think, and the haunting memory of Aaron’s voice still echoed in my mind like a distant drumbeat. I could almost feel him tracking us, his presence lurking just behind the fog, the trees, the silence.
It was during one of these tense, fog-filled mornings that I realized just how much we had changed since we left the capital. It wasn’t just the urgency in our steps, or the weariness in our faces. It was the way we moved, the way we had become an army of shadows, always on the edge of danger.
The forest itself felt alive with the weight of our fear. Every snapped twig, every whisper of wind sent us into alert. We were constantly looking over our shoulders, waiting for the blow that would come.
We passed through miles of thick, unforgiving woods and uneven terrain, the landscape shifting from dense forest to open plains and rocky hills. Every step felt like it could be our last.
I could see it in Edward’s face, too. His eyes, always so sharp, were clouded with something darker now. Was it guilt? Fear? Regret? I couldn’t tell, but it was there, hidden beneath the soldier-like exterior.
There were moments when I caught him looking at me, and I knew it wasn’t just concern for my safety. It was something deeper. Something neither of us was willing to acknowledge.
The bond, however broken, still lingered between us. I could feel the pull — a magnetic force that seemed to tug at my very soul. Every time he was near, it flared, sending sparks of something dangerous through my body. He might have been trying to distance himself from me, but there was always that invisible thread between us, a thread that no matter how much he tried to cut it, never quite broke.
One night, while we camped beneath a starless sky, I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“Edward,” I called softly into the darkness.
He stirred beside me, his silhouette barely visible in the moonlight. “Hmm?”
I swallowed, my heart pounding in my chest. “Why are you really doing this? Helping me, I mean.”
There was a long pause. I couldn’t see his face, but I could feel him stiffen.
“I don’t know,” he said finally, his voice low and rough. “I don’t have a reason, Kora. I just do.”
I felt the weight of his words settle between us, heavy and unresolved. I wanted to press further, to ask him about the anger in his eyes sometimes, the way he would push me away but never really let go. But I didn’t. There were some things I didn’t want to know.
Instead, I asked the question that had been gnawing at me for days. “Do you ever think about... us? About what happened before?”
I heard him shift again, his breath unsteady. “What happened before is gone, Kora.”
I wanted to argue with him, to tell him that it wasn’t gone, that nothing could ever erase what we had shared, the bond that tied us together. But I didn’t. He was right in one sense. What happened before couldn’t be changed.
I just didn’t know if I was ready to let it go, either.
---
The following morning, we came across a small village nestled at the foot of a mountain. It was a quiet place, its people simple and humble. There were no signs of trouble here, no tension or fear. It was the kind of place I had once dreamed of — a peaceful, hidden haven far from the madness of our world.
Edward suggested we stop for a few hours to rest, to gather supplies. But the moment we entered the village, I felt it. The prickle of something off. Something wrong.
The villagers were friendly enough, greeting us with smiles, offering us food, water, and fresh clothes. But there was a look in their eyes, something fleeting yet unsettling. It was as if they were hiding something, as if they knew more than they were letting on.
I pulled Edward aside as we walked through the market. “Something’s not right,” I murmured. “Can’t you feel it?”
He glanced around, his gaze sharp. “What do you mean?”
“Just... them.” I gestured to the villagers, who now avoided our eyes. “They’re hiding something.”
Edward didn’t reply immediately, but I saw his expression tighten. He, too, had noticed the strange vibe in the air. But there was nothing we could do. We needed supplies, and we needed to keep moving.
Still, my senses were on high alert. I didn’t trust this place.
We found an old woman running a stall near the village center, selling bundles of herbs and dried meats. She gave me a knowing smile when I approached, her eyes too bright, too intense.
“You’ve been running for a long time, haven’t you, dear?” she asked, her voice like gravel. I froze, caught off guard. “I... I don’t know what you mean.”
She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “The hunter is close. Too close for comfort.”
My heart skipped a beat. The hunter.
Edward stepped in then, his hand on my arm. “Is there a problem?”
The old woman gave a wicked smile, her teeth yellowed with age. “Nothing, nothing. Just a little advice for the road.” She pushed a bundle of dried herbs into my hand, pressing it into my palm with surprising strength. “Keep this. It will keep him at bay.”
Edward opened his mouth to protest, but the woman was already turning away, her weathered back bent over the stall.
I stared down at the bundle in my hand. It didn’t look like anything special, just a collection of dried leaves and stems. But the woman’s words hung in the air, unsettling and sharp.
“Keep it,” she had said. “It will keep him at bay.”
It felt like a warning. A warning I wasn’t sure I wanted to follow.
We left the village shortly after, the unease I felt only growing. The further we walked, the more oppressive the air became, thick with the weight of something unspoken. And as we reached the edge of the forest once again, I could almost feel the presence of Aaron lurking in the distance, his eyes watching from somewhere in the dark.
We couldn’t outrun him. We couldn’t hide. Not forever.
And as much as I tried to shake the thought, one fact kept clawing at my mind: Aaron was getting closer.
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