The sun bled across the distant mountains, sinking into the earth like a secret too heavy to bear. The wind carried echoes of forgotten names, stirring the golden grass that stretched endlessly into the horizon. And there, in the vast emptiness, she stood—an enigma wrapped in ivory cotton, her silhouette carved against the dying light.
Her name was Althea, but few ever spoke it aloud. She was a whisper in the wind, a shadow in the dusk, a woman who belonged to no one and nothing. A runaway, or perhaps a seeker, she had left behind the suffocating marble walls of her father’s estate two summers ago, vanishing like mist before the dawn.
There were rumors about her. Some said she had betrayed a king. Others claimed she had stolen something forbidden—a relic, a heart, a destiny not meant for her hands. But the truth, if ever spoken, would be far more damning.
She had killed for love.
A nobleman’s son, his lips tasting of honeyed wine and reckless promises. She had been his secret, his untamed muse, until the night his father demanded he wed another. She still remembered the horror in his eyes, not when she drove the dagger into his throat, but when he realized—too late—that he had never truly known her.
Althea had fled that night, blood still warm on her fingertips.
And now, in this untamed wilderness, she had shed the skin of the girl she once was. Here, the air was not thick with lies, nor the scent of rotting privilege. Here, she was raw, untamed, reborn.
The fabric of her shirt clung to her skin, damp from the journey. Her shorts barely covered the secrets her body carried—ones written in scars, in bruises long faded but never forgotten. She had learned to live like the desert wind—unpredictable, fierce, always moving.
But tonight… something felt different.
The earth hummed beneath her feet. A presence, unseen but undeniable, sent a thrill up her spine. She turned, slow and deliberate, knowing she was being watched.
And then, the voice.
“You’re harder to find than I expected.”
The words slithered through the air like embers on the breeze. Deep. Familiar. Dangerous.
Althea’s breath hitched. She did not need to turn to know who stood behind her.
Caius.
The only man who had ever matched her step for step, lie for lie, blade for blade.
Once, they had been lovers. Once, they had sworn to burn the world together. But treachery had severed them, torn them apart like wolves fighting over the same carcass.
She forced a smirk, though her fingers curled into fists. “Took you long enough,” she murmured, tilting her chin. “I was beginning to think you’d given up.”
A low chuckle. Dark. Amused.
“I don’t chase ghosts, Althea.” His voice brushed against her skin like smoke. “But you’re not a ghost, are you? You’re very much alive.”
She turned then, slowly, her eyes locking onto his. The twilight kissed his face, sharpening the edges, painting him in shadows. The same man, yet different. Hardened. Weathered. More lethal.
Her pulse betrayed her.
“What do you want?” she asked, voice steady.
Caius took a step closer, his gaze devouring every inch of her. “You know what I want.”
Her throat went dry.
Because she did.
The past. The secrets. The fire between them that had never truly died.
The desert wind howled, wrapping around them like unseen hands. Somewhere in the distance, a storm brewed.
And Althea knew, with a certainty that settled deep into her bones, that she was about to be caught in it.
