The dawn was barely breaking when I woke to the quiet sounds of the forest beyond the small window. A cool, misty air lingered inside the room, mixing with the scent of damp earth and the faint smell of pine that clung to the stone walls. The morning was still, peaceful, but I felt anything but calm.

The events of the night before sat heavy on my mind. The tension, the silence, the unspoken pull between us. Even now, as the first light filtered through the trees, I could feel it, gnawing at me, confusing me. I turned on my side, pulling the blanket up to my chin, pretending for a moment longer that I could stay in this space, untouched by what waited outside.
But reality wasn't that kind.

A knock sounded at the door, low and deliberate, pulling me out of my half-asleep daze. Rhyon. Of course, it was him. Who else would it be?

I threw the blanket off, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. The cool floor met my bare feet, sending a shiver up my spine. I didn't need to answer the door. He'd walk in regardless, with that same infuriating confidence a vampire always carried.

Sure enough, the door creaked open, and there he was, leaning against the frame, looking like he hadn't even slept. His dark cloak hung loosely over his shoulders, and the sharpness in his eyes, even in the soft morning light, told me he was as alert as ever. Vampires. They never did seem to tire.

"It's time," he said, his voice smooth, low. "We've got a long ride ahead. And we'll share a horse"

I swallowed, forcing myself to stand. There was a heaviness in my limbs, not from the morning chill but from the weight of everything that was waiting for us. The adventure, the danger, the fact that I'd be spending hours pressed against Rhyon on a horse—because apparently, there was only one horse.

Fantastic.

"Right," I muttered under my breath, slipping my boots on. "Because why wouldn't we share a horse? That makes perfect sense."

Rhyon arched an eyebrow, clearly hearing my complaint. "Do you know how to ride a horse?"

"No..." I let the word linger on my throat, "So, you could walk, if you prefer," Rhyon said, his tone carrying that maddening hint of amusement. "But it might take us a few days to get there."

I glared at him, tying the last lace of my boot. "I'm not walking."

"Then I suggest we get going."

The calm in his voice only made my frustration worse. I didn't want to ride with him. I didn't want to be that close to him for that long, feeling his arms around me, knowing he could read every breath I took. It was suffocating, just thinking about it. But there wasn't exactly another option.

The stable was quiet when we arrived, the soft rustle of leaves and distant chant of crows barely breaking the stillness of the early morning. Rhyon's black horse stood saddled, its dark coat gleaming under the weak sunlight. The air was crisp, cool against my skin, but there was an undercurrent of tension that made the morning feel heavier.
Just as I was about to take a step forward, I heard it—a faint rustling behind us. My breath hitched. Rhyon's grip tightened on my arm, but before I could ask, he leaned in, his voice barely a whisper.

"Lower your head," he murmured, the coolness in his tone sending a shiver down my spine. "Don't say a word."
My heart pounded in my chest as I did what he asked, eyes fixed on the dirt beneath my feet, trying to steady my breathing. The sound of footsteps behind us grew closer, slow and deliberate, each one drawing the air tighter around me.

"Well, well, Rhyon," a voice spoke, dripping with amusement. "And here I thought you preferred to travel alone."

I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to lift my head, every instinct screaming at me to meet the eyes of whoever was approaching. But I didn't. I stayed still, my muscles tense, hands trembling at my sides. The sound of boots on gravel stopped just a few feet away.

"Jace." Rhyon's voice was calm, smooth, but I could hear the tension lurking beneath it. "What brings you here?"
Jace. I could feel his gaze now, heavy and invasive, like a cold hand running down my spine. My chest tightened as I struggled to stay still, the feeling of being watched crawling under my skin.

"And who's this?" Jace asked again, his voice laced with curiosity, but there was something more beneath it—something dark, something hungry. "A new blood bag, perhaps?"

My blood ran cold, the words slicing through me like a blade. Blood bag? The reality of what he meant settled in my gut, twisting like a knot. My pulse hammered in my ears, fear clawing its way up my throat, but I kept my head down, my eyes locked on the ground, fingers digging into my palms.
Rhyon's hand dropped from my arm, and I felt the shift in the air between us. His posture changed, subtle but unmistakable—his body positioning itself in front of me like a shield.

"She's mine," Rhyon said, his voice low, the words cutting through the silence like ice.

The possessiveness in his tone sent a jolt through me. His. The weight of it hung in the air, and for a brief, heart-pounding moment, I wasn't sure if I should feel relief or something else entirely. But Jace wasn't backing off. The tension in the stable thickened, growing colder with each breath.

"She doesn't look marked." Jace's voice was smooth, but the challenge was clear. "Mind if I take a taste? Just a bite, of course."

I felt Rhyon's body go still—dangerously still. My heart hammered against my ribs, and I forced myself to breathe, though it felt like the air had turned to ice.

"Touch her," Rhyon said, his voice low, each word deliberate as he took a step in his direction, "and you won't have a throat left to drink with."

The air crackled with the weight of the threat, and Jace let out a soft laugh, though it lacked any real humor. "Relax, Rhyon, I'm only curious."

But Rhyon didn't relax. His attention kept on the vampire, tall, nice hair, grey eyes in front of him, his stance unwavering. Slowly, I watched as his fangs slid into view, as I peaked from the edge of my cloak, they were sharp and gleaming in the dim light. The sight of them made my pulse quicken a beat faster, my mind swirling with the fear that was crawling under my skin..

"I said," Rhyon growled, his voice steady but carrying an edge of something lethal, "she's mine."

I felt a pull in my chest, an unexpected surge of heat mixed with the cold fear that had settled there. Mine. The word echoed in my mind, and though it should have terrified me, a part of me—deep down, beneath the fear—wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe that with Rhyon, I was safe. Even if he was a monster.

Jace's eyes shifted between Rhyon and me, his smirk fading into something more calculating. His gaze lingered on me, too long, too deliberate, and it took everything in me to keep my head lowered, to not flinch under his scrutiny.

"She's not marked, Rhyon," Jace pressed, his voice soft, dangerous. "You leave her open like that, and someone might get the wrong idea."

The weight of his words settled heavily on my shoulders. I didn't know much about the politics of vampires—this world I had been dragged into—but I knew enough to understand that Jace was challenging Rhyon, though. And that in this moment, my safety was hanging by a thread.

Without warning, Rhyon moved. Faster than I could comprehend, his hand shot out, gripping Jace by the throat with a vice-like hold. The sound of the impact sent a jolt of shock through me, my heart slamming in my chest as Rhyon pushed Jace back, his fangs fully bared now, gleaming like a predator's warning. I trembled in place.

"I don't mark what's mine unless I choose to," Rhyon said, his voice low, deadly calm. "And if you so much as look at her again, I will end you."

Jace's hands went up in mock surrender, his smirk faltering as Rhyon's grip tightened. I could see the tension in Jace's body, his bravado crumbling under Rhyon's relentless hold.
"Alright," Jace rasped, his voice strained. "Alright, I get it."
Rhyon's fingers released him with a shove, and Jace stumbled back, coughing as he straightened himself. His eyes never left me, though, and a chill crawled up my spine as his gaze lingered.

Jace stepped back, brushing off his coat, but his eyes gleamed with something dark. "I'll be seeing you around," he muttered, giving Rhyon a short, mocking bow before his gaze flicked back to me. His smirk returned, eyes glinting with something cold, something that made my stomach twist in knots. "Be careful, princess," he added, his voice soft but laced with malice. "Things aren't always as safe as they seem."

Rhyon didn't move, his body still a barrier between Jace and me, but I could feel the tension radiating off him like heat from a fire, barely contained, ready to erupt. Jace lingered for a moment longer, his eyes lingering on me one last time before he turned, his footsteps fading into the quiet of the morning.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, my body still locked in place, heart pounding in my chest. My mind raced, struggling to process what had just happened—how close I'd been to something terrible, how easily Rhyon had stepped in. But why? Why would he lie for me, claim me as his? My pulse still hammered wildly, my thoughts tangled in a mess of confusion and lingering fear.

Rhyon turned to face me, his gaze sharp, unwavering. "Get on the horse," he commanded, his voice low, controlled, leaving no room for argument. His tone held a fierceness that sent a shiver through me, but I couldn't move. The weight of what had just happened kept me frozen, still too close to terror to react.

"I—" I blinked, my thoughts still spinning. "Why... why did you—"
"Now, Lyra," he snapped, his eyes darkening, his voice hardening with urgency. "Before anyone else sees you."

The authority in his words cut through the fog of fear clouding my mind, shaking me from my paralysis. I moved instinctively, climbing onto the horse before I could fully process what I was doing. It felt like the only solid thing left, something to anchor me in the midst of all the confusion.

The morning air was sharp, cold, the sun doing little to warm the dense, shadowy canopy of trees as we set off from the stable. Rhyon's horse moved with that irritatingly smooth, effortless rhythm beneath us, carrying us farther and farther from the confrontation with Jace. But even the quiet of the forest wasn't enough to dull the sharp edge of tension growing between us, cutting through the air like a blade.

Rhyon hadn't said a word since we left. His silence wrapped around us like an uninvited guest, suffocating and heavy with unspoken words. I could feel the tension in his body, pressed against mine—every muscle wound tight, coiled, ready. His eyes darted constantly across the trees, always searching, always alert. He moved like a predator, and I was hyper-aware of just how dangerous he was, how aware he was of his surroundings. But there was something more to his unease.

I wondered, briefly, if Jace had rattled him. The way he had forced himself on me. Did it shake Rhyon's icy exterior? He'd never admit it, but something about his silence, the way he gripped the reins a little too tightly, made me wonder.
I glanced over my shoulder, watching him. His jaw was clenched, his face a mask of irritation, his mind clearly miles away from this horse ride. I figured he was brooding, but this was different. This was dangerous. Unstable grounds. And I wondered if I was a fool for trusting him. A vampire like Rhyon—one who could switch from protector to executioner in a heartbeat—was I really safe with him?

I dropped my gaze to my hands, sighing silently. The path twisted deeper into the wilderness, the trees looming taller, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. Every so often, a sliver of sunlight would break through the thick canopy, casting the ground in a fleeting golden glow. But the deeper we rode, the darker it became.

I couldn't take it anymore. The silence was unbearable.

"Where are we going? Or better yet, what are we looking for?" I finally asked, my voice louder than I'd intended, cutting through the oppressive quiet.

Rhyon's grip on the reins tightened, his knuckles white as he stared straight ahead. He was in no rush to answer me, and I could practically hear the internal war he was waging. His jaw tightened even more, his exhale slow, as if he were trying to restrain himself.

"We're heading north," he said, his voice low, calm, but with that edge of darkness I was getting far too familiar with. "Toward the mountains."

I turned my head to face him, squinting as if I were trying to figure out if he was being serious or just tossing me a bone to shut me up. "I gathered that much, genius," I shot back, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice. "But what I asked was why."

He didn't answer—of course, he didn't. The silence that followed was deafening, and I sighed, settling back against him, his solid form warm behind me. It should have been comforting, but it wasn't. He was keeping something from me—something big—and I could feel it twisting the air between us. But how was I supposed to break through the walls he had built when I had my own secrets stacked just as high?

The day dragged on. The sun climbed higher in the sky, burning away the thick forest until the trees became sparse, replaced by rocky terrain and wide, open fields. The further we traveled, the colder the wind bit at us, stinging my skin as we approached the foothills of the northern mountains.

By late afternoon, we reached a vast, desolate valley. The mountains loomed in the distance, their peaks jagged, sharp, barely visible through the thin veil of clouds clinging to them. The whole landscape was harsh, unforgiving. Twisted trees and patches of dry brush were the only signs of life in the vast emptiness, and the longer we rode, the heavier the tension between us became.

"You still haven't answered my question," I pressed, the irritation clear in my voice. I wasn't going to let him dodge this any longer. "Why are we really heading to the mountains? What are we looking for?"

Rhyon's silence stretched out again, but this time, I could feel the shift. He was finally ready to talk. I got that much in the way he exhaled and furrowed his brows, looking ahead but not really focusing on anything specific. His eyes remained fixed on the horizon past me, like he was making an effort to not look into my eyes. His words were heavy with meaning as he said, "There's something hidden in the mountains. Something that could change the course of everything—our world, the power of the vampires, and... more."

I frowned, confusion twisting in my chest. "What do you mean, 'more'? What is it?"

He sighed, his shoulders tensing a little more, and for a moment, I saw the shadow of something darker cross his face. Finally, he glanced at me, "It's called the Holy Grail," he said, each word deliberate and returned his gaze to the path in front of us. "An artifact of immense power. Some think it's just a myth, but I know it's real. And if the Vampire Council gets their hands on it, no one will be able to stop them."

My breath hitched, the weight of his words slamming into me. The Holy Grail? That wasn't just some legend you read about to scare kids. It was a myth that had no place in reality. But Rhyon wasn't the type to believe in fairy tales. If he said it was real, then...

I stared at him, the pieces falling together in my mind, my pulse quickening. The Grail. And then it hit me—hard, cold, like ice water spilling down my spine. My chest tightened as the realization washed over me. That's what they wanted.

The faceless employer who had hired me to steal from Rhyon... it had never been about him. They wanted what was in his head. They wanted the location of the Holy Grail.
was supposed to steal the memory of its location and THEN kill him, so he wouldn't stand a chance to get it first.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. I had almost betrayed him. The truth hit me so hard I could barely breathe. I wasn't a killer, I wasn't a thief either, I never thought there was this much at stake. Gods, I felt foolish and I almost helped destroy my world, if everything he told me this far was true. I should have known better than to accept the mission I was given, but desperation spoke loudly in my heart and my father's eyes were a constant in the back of my head. And now, he was alone, while I was trying to save the world. I wasn't a heroine, I was just a villager trying to make the best for her family.

I was so deep into my thought I didn't notice Rhyon's eyes on me. My own, glaring at my hands on the back of the horse, immobile as my thoughts swirled and downspiraled. His voice cut through the chaos inside me, low and steady, "We will get there before anyone else does."

He tried to reassure me that we were going to outbeat the council of vampires and get away with it. In his eyes, I saw the hope I momentarily lost and as the horse walked slowly, I allowed myself to drink from that pool of hope I saw in his glimmering eyes. But I couldn't let myself drown in him, I needed to keep my heart from hammering against my ribcage because I knew he could listen to my own distress, everytime he focused on me, "Well, you really know how to pick a destination," I muttered under my breath, more to myself than him.

Rhyon let out a low chuckle behind me, his voice like velvet and shadows. "You're welcome to turn back, if you'd like."
I shot him a glare over my shoulder, once again. "Oh, don't tempt me."

The low curl of the smirk now tugging at his lips only made my irritation flare. Of course he found this amusing. Of course, he wasn't phased by any of it. He was so damn sure of himself, so infuriatingly calm, while I felt like the ground beneath me had crumbled to dust.

"Just try to keep up, princess," he added, his voice teasing, dripping with sarcasm.

I rolled my eyes, biting back a retort. "You call me that once more, and I swear I'll leave you to the wolves." She wouldn't be able to flee even if she wanted to. His strong arms around her like a cage, and his warm breath on the side of her head made sure she knew where she stood in this little game of two. She was a rabbit in the hands of a lion and there was no escaping it.

He didn't reply to my retort and we rode in silence for a little longer until the grove came into view. It was nestled between two jagged outcroppings of rock, the trees gnarled and twisted as if they'd grown in defiance of the harsh environment around them. Their branches swayed in the wind, casting long shadows over the uneven ground. The little sunlight they had the whole day was now fading fast, turning the sky a deep, moody orange that bled into the dark horizon, and the first chill of night crept into the air.

I slid off the horse, my legs stiff and my muscles aching from the long ride. I shot a glance at Rhyon, who dismounted with his usual effortless grace. It was as if nothing fazed him—not the cold, not the journey, not even the darkness closing in around us. He tied the horse to one of the twisted trees and glanced around, his eyes scanning the area for anything unusual, always on edge, always in control.

"We'll camp here for the night," he said, his tone that same maddening calm, as if he were stating the obvious.
I didn't bother responding, instead moving toward the center of the grove. I could feel his eyes on me, probably waiting for me to do something foolish, but I wasn't in the mood for his constant scrutiny. The wind whipped through the trees, biting at my skin, and I wrapped my arms around myself, wishing the cold wasn't getting to me as much as it was.

Rhyon bent down, picking up fallen branches and pulling them into a pile for a fire. Of course, he didn't say anything—just went about his business like it was any other night in the wilderness. But I was done with his silence.

"Let me..." I said, pushing past him to the center of the grove where he stood crouched. He glanced up at me and his hand paused on a branch, raising an eyebrow. I could see him in my peripheral vision. The doubt, the expectation and even I didn't know if I could do what I wanted to do. I shot him a glance, refusing to let him get under my skin. I'd be damned if I gave any vampire the satisfaction of watching me falter.
Not anymore.

With a steady breath, I knelt down, placing my hands over the dry wood he'd gathered. I could feel the weight of his gaze, but I ignored it. Instead, I whispered the word that had been resting on the tip of my tongue all day. "Ignea."

A small flame sparked to life, caught on the branche and quickly grew into a steady fire. The warmth washed over me, chasing away the bite of the evening cold. The flames crackled, casting dancing shadows across the grove. But the warmth I felt wasn't just the fire hitting my bones, no. It was the pride of nailing yet another spell and being able to practice magic.

Rhyon stood still for a moment, his arms crossed, watching the fire as if it had betrayed him. His smirk faded, replaced by a brooding, almost angry expression, something wary. "You're using magic," he said flatly, the edge in his voice unmistakable.

I didn't look at him. "Your observation skills are as sharp as ever."

He stepped closer, his shadow stretching long in the firelight, his tone lowering as he spoke. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

I met his eyes now, refusing to back down. "Do you have any idea how little I care?" The words came out sharper than I intended, but I didn't regret them. "We're past the point of worrying about rules, Rhyon."

"Rules?" He took another step toward me, and I could see the tension in his body, the frustration etched into the lines of his face. "Yes, the council's rules are harsh for humans, But magic isn't just some rule you can bend, Lyra. It's dangerous. For you. For any human."

I stood up, refusing to let him tower over me, even though he still did. "You think I don't know that?" I snapped. "But I'm not going to sit around and let you control everything. This magic, it's what's keeping me alive."

His eyes flared, now dark and unreadable in the firelight. "And how long before it does the opposite?"

I scoffed, turning my back on him, putting some distance between us both, "I'm not some helpless child, Rhyon. I've been doing just fine without your help."

"Doing fine?" He followed me, his voice rising, barely keeping his frustration in check. "You would barely survive back there with Jace, and you think you're fine? And he's a new vampire..."

"That was different," I bit back, spinning around to face him. "You think just because I needed you once, I'll need you forever?"

His expression flickered, the anger draining away just enough for me to see something else—something more vulnerable. "I'm not trying to control you, Lyra. I'm trying to keep you from getting yourself killed."

His words hit harder than I expected, and for a moment, I faltered. There was something raw in his voice, something that almost sounded like... fear. Fear for me.

"I don't need saving," I said, quieter this time, though my voice still held an edge.

He didn't back down. "Everyone needs saving eventually."
I glared at him, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks—whether it was from the fire or from him, I couldn't tell. "And what about you, Rhyon? You think you're invincible? You think you're above needing anyone?"

He took another step forward, closing the distance between us. His presence was overwhelming, his voice low and dangerous. "I stopped needing anyone a long time ago."
I swallowed, my heart racing as the intensity between us shifted from frustration to something else entirely. The fire crackled at our feet, but the heat between us was undeniable. I could feel it in the way his gaze lingered on mine, the way his breath hitched ever so slightly when he stood this close.

"Maybe that's your problem," I whispered, not daring to break the tension. "Maybe that's why you're terrified of letting anyone in."

His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as if I had hit a nerve. "You think you've got me all figured out, don't you?"

"I think you're scared," I said, my voice barely audible over the crackling flames. "Scared that if you let anyone in, you'll lose control."

He let out a low, bitter laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Control? That's what you think this is about?"

I took a step closer, refusing to be intimidated. "Isn't it?"
For a long moment, we stood there, inches apart, the firelight flickering between us. I could feel the pull, the magnetic tension that kept drawing us closer, no matter how much we pushed each other away. His eyes, dark and intense, held mine in a way that made it hard to breathe, hard to think about anything but him standing so close.

"You're wrong," he finally said, his voice low, almost a growl. "This is hardly about me. Or you. So, you either let me help protect you..."

"And what if I don't want you to?" The words escaped me before I could think them through, but they were out now, hanging in the charged air between us.

He stepped forward, so close now that I could feel the heat radiating from him, his breath brushing against my skin. "Don't say things you don't mean, Lyra." His words hit me and I didn't lower my gaze from his as my heart pounded in my chest, my resolve wavering under the weight of the golden fickles of his eyes. The firelight flickered in his eyes momentarily, casting shadows across his sharp features, and for a moment, I forgot why I was even angry.

"Then stop making me feel things I don't want to feel," I whispered, the vulnerability in my voice betraying me.

The tension between us was thick, electric. His gaze softened for just a fraction of a second, and I swore I saw something in his eyes—something dangerous, something familiar. His hand found my shoulder over my thick cloak and for a moment I craved feeling his touch on my skin. For a moment, it felt like he was also fighting the urge to close the distance.
"Lyra..." he began, his voice rough, hesitant, but before he could finish, the wind picked up, stirring the flames higher, snapping both of us out of the moment. I took a step back, suddenly cold despite the fire. I couldn't do this. Not with him.

"Get some rest," he said, his voice clipped, the moment gone as quickly as it had come.

I nodded, still shaken, and turned away from him, the weight of everything between us pressing down on me like a storm waiting to break.