The woods were quiet, the only sound the crunch of snow beneath Rosaline’s boots as she walked beside the child, guiding him home through the trees. The red cloak she wore flared behind her, a warning to anyone who might follow.

A shadow moved among the branches—quick, silent, and deadly. One of Alaric’s men had been scouting the forest and had set his sights on the child. With a roar, he lunged, a crude blade raised.

“Stop!” Rosaline screamed, throwing herself between them. The man staggered back in surprise, then attacked her, knocking her to the ground and binding her hands with rough rope he had carried. She struggled, panic rising, but the child’s terrified cries spurred her courage.

A shadow fell over them. Amarok appeared as if from nowhere, his presence dark and commanding. He moved faster than thought, striking the man with brutal precision. The scout fell, groaning, incapacitated but not dead.

Amarok’s chest heaved as he took in a sharp breath, his body glinting with sweat, one arm grazed, leaving a dark streak of blood across his coat. He looked up at Rosaline, eyes fierce, and yet concerned.

Seth arrived silently, helping Rosaline to untie herself. Together, they supported Amarok as he stumbled back toward the crumbling manor. Once inside, Rosaline set him down gently, her hands shaking slightly as she began tending to his wounds, wrapping cloth and bandages around the gash on his arm.

Amarok’s voice broke the silence, low and chastising. “Foolish girl… you could’ve been hurt.”

Rosaline met his gaze, steady. “This ‘foolish girl’ was only protecting a child. And I have a name.”

There was a pause as she met his eyes, then she said softly, “Rosaline.”

He remained silent for a moment, watching her with those piercing heterochromatic eyes, before finally speaking, his voice a low rumble: “Amarok.”

The two of them sat in silence for a heartbeat, the wind outside moaning through broken windows. Rosaline continued her careful work, finishing the bandages around his arm and shoulder.

“Thank you for saving me,” she murmured, meeting his gaze.

Amarok’s eyes softened slightly, the edge of his usual stoicism melting. “You’re not what I thought you were. I didn’t think you cared.”

Her fingers stilled on the cloth, and she looked up.

“I care for everyone under my protection,” he said quietly, locking eyes with her, “including you.”

For a moment, no one spoke. No one moved. Only the crackle of the fire in the hearth and the muted shadows of the manor surrounded them.

And in that silence, an understanding passed between them—a fragile, unspoken bond, the first glimmer of trust and something deeper yet, something neither dared name.