The sky was dim and heavy, with storm clouds like slumbering beasts crouched along the mountain ridges. Outside the cabin, the wind spiraled through the forest, whispering of unrest in low, restless tones.
Aedan sat by the window, absentmindedly rubbing the crystal pendant at his chest. His eyes were hollow, his expression distant, as if a thin veil still separated his soul from his body.
Until the sound of familiar footsteps echoed.
"Aedan," Elaris entered the room, a soft smile curling at her lips. "Today, we're going out."
Aedan froze, scarcely believing what he had heard. He turned swiftly, a glimmer of undisguised delight flashing through his gaze. "You mean... outside?"
"Yes." Elaris nodded, pulling a black cloak around his shoulders, gently fastening it at his throat with loving care. "You've always wanted to see beyond the woods. Today, I'll take you."
A rare, genuine smile began to spread across Aedan's face. But before it could fully bloom, Elaris's next words doused it like ice water:
"But you must help me, Aedan. Use your body to lure the newly dead."
His smile stiffened. His voice trembled slightly. "Lure... souls?"
"Yes, lure souls," she repeated, her tone patient as she smoothed the furrow between his brows. "Because you have died once, your body still carries the scent of death. The wandering souls will mistake you for their haven."
She looked into his eyes, caressing his forehead with soothing tenderness. "You want to go outside, don't you? Or… are you unwilling to do something for me?"
The question made Aedan shudder unconsciously. He nodded without hesitation. He didn't dare say no. He had no right.
They passed through the forest, crossed a valley strewn with bones, until they reached a scorched battlefield. The air still reeked of blood and burnt flesh. Corpses lay everywhere, armor shattered, banners torn and crumpled.
Aedan tried to avert his gaze, but Elaris caught his hand.
"Look," she said softly, and waved her other hand through the air, casting a spell of spirit sight.
Instantly, his vision shifted.
Countless translucent figures hovered above the battlefield—some weeping, some raging, some clinging desperately to the lifeless bodies below.
Elaris chuckled faintly, her gaze sweeping over the lingering spirits. "Since you refuse to move on... you shall serve me instead."
She placed her hand against Aedan's forehead, murmuring an incantation. Immediately, a faint, ghostly light bloomed from within him. A chill pierced his bones, as if his soul was being torn apart.
The spirits, sensing something, shrieked and surged toward him.
He tried to move away in terror, but his body refused to obey.
One by one, the wandering souls were drawn into floating crystal vials—each intricately etched with ancient runes, crafted by Elaris herself. Every time a spirit was captured, a ripple of red light pulsed along the glass.
The ritual lasted for an hour.
When the last spirit faded, Aedan collapsed onto the ground, pale and shivering, staring blankly at the flickering lights trapped inside the bottles. He could still hear their faint weeping, their desperate cries.
"We're going home," Elaris said as she gathered the vials, helping him to his feet and wiping the sweat from his brow before placing a gentle kiss there. "You did well, Aedan."
He said nothing, only followed her in silence.
That night, Elaris began crafting new souls.
She released the captured spirits one by one into a massive soul forge. The fire blazed high, and agonized howls filled the night air. The spirits writhed in torment, burning, shrinking, until they were reduced to fine grey powder, which Elaris carefully collected with a silver spoon.
Aedan sat on the cabin steps, listening to the tortured cries, his face growing paler with every passing moment. He knew it was all done through him. He couldn't stop it. He could only accept it. He stared down at his hands, as if invisible blood had stained them.
On the third morning, the forging was complete.
When Elaris reappeared before him, Aedan almost did not recognize her.
Her beauty had been reborn. Her features were still familiar, but now unnervingly flawless. Her skin was luminous, her dark hair flowing like silken ribbons, glistening under the faint morning light.
She wore a black gown of sheer, delicate fabric, and with every step, she seemed more dream than reality.
"Am I beautiful?" she asked, her voice a soft murmur.
Aedan stared at her, dazed, as if falling into a dream deeper and more inescapable than any he had known.
"Even the sun in the sky cannot outshine you," he whispered.
Her smile deepened. She intertwined her fingers with his, then pressed his hand to her chest.
"Aedan," she whispered into his ear, voice warm enough to melt the frost in his heart, "I belong to you alone. And you belong to me. We shall never be parted."
In that moment, something deep inside Aedan cracked silently. He no longer knew whether it was desire—or a descent into a much darker abyss.
But he did not resist.
He allowed her kisses to fall like fire upon him. Allowed himself to drown willingly in the beautiful prison she wove around him.
The night deepened. The forest fell into deathly silence. And within that small cabin, the flames of surrender burned fiercely.