Crown of Thorns and Roses

The forest grew darker the farther they walked. The light that filtered through the twisted canopy above was sickly pale, like the dying glow of a winter moon. Elena's footsteps faltered as she struggled to keep up with the stranger's brisk pace. He moved like a shadow himself—silent, unbothered by the jagged roots that snagged her boots or the thorned vines that caught at her cloak.

"Slow down," she snapped, her breath misting in the frigid air. "This forest isn't a race."

The man didn't stop, didn't turn. "Keep up, or the forest will decide for you."

The warning sent a shiver down her spine, and she glanced warily at the trees. There was something unnatural about them, the way their gnarled branches twisted toward her like skeletal fingers. She could have sworn she saw them move when she wasn't looking.

The knight—or whatever he was—finally paused at the edge of a clearing. Elena staggered to a stop beside him, her chest heaving. She wiped a strand of copper hair from her face and glared at him. "Who are you, really? And what do you know of the Rose Crown?"

He turned slightly, and for the first time, the faint light revealed a sliver of his face. A strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, pale skin that looked carved from marble. But his eyes… they were sharp as glass, an unnatural silver that seemed to shimmer with faint light.

"I am called Cassian," he said simply. "As for what I know, little dove, I know the crown is not a treasure you simply find. It is a trial, a curse, and a throne for those foolish enough to seek it."

His words carried weight, the kind that made her stomach tighten. "If you think I'll turn back—"

"I don't," he interrupted. "Your kind never do."

"My kind?" Elena demanded, stepping forward. "And what exactly do you mean by my kind?"

Cassian's lips curved into the faintest hint of a smirk. "Desperate. Determined. And far too naïve to know when to run."

The accusation stung, though she refused to let him see it. She straightened, lifting her chin. "Then tell me—why are you here? If the crown is so dangerous, what's your reason for following this path?"

For a moment, he said nothing. The silence between them stretched, thick as the mist that coiled through the clearing. Finally, Cassian's gaze dropped, as if he were looking at something beyond her.

"I have my reasons," he said quietly. "And they are none of your concern."

Before she could push further, a sound broke the stillness—a low, guttural growl that sent a chill racing down her spine. Cassian's posture snapped upright, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword.

Elena turned, her heart pounding. Shadows pooled at the edges of the clearing, thickening, shifting. From within them, shapes began to emerge—hulking, unnatural figures with glowing red eyes.

"Wraith wolves," Cassian muttered, drawing his blade in one fluid motion. The steel gleamed, etched with faint runes that pulsed with silver light. "Stay behind me."

Elena's pulse quickened. "I can fight."

Cassian's gaze flicked toward her, sharp and disbelieving. "You can die if you like, but I'd prefer you not waste my time."

Before she could argue, the creatures lunged. The first wolf burst from the shadows, its form twisting with darkness, jaws snapping. Cassian moved like lightning—his blade singing through the air as it cleaved the beast in two. The creature's body shattered into a cloud of ash, and another wolf immediately took its place.

Elena stumbled back, her dagger clutched tightly in her trembling hands. The clearing erupted into chaos—growls, the clash of steel, and Cassian's movements, fluid and relentless. He was a whirlwind of shadow and light, his sword cutting through the darkness like fire through mist.

But the wolves didn't stop. For every one he struck down, another crawled from the shadows, its growls vibrating through the earth.

I can't just stand here, Elena thought desperately.

A wolf broke from the fray, its red eyes locking onto her. Before she could react, it lunged, its claws outstretched. She threw herself to the side, the beast's jaws snapping inches from her face. She scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding in her ears.

The wolf turned, and for a brief moment, she could see the hollowness in its eyes—soulless, as if it were only a vessel of shadow.

Aim for the head, she remembered someone once saying.

As the wolf lunged again, Elena raised her dagger, her hands shaking. She sidestepped at the last moment, slashing wildly. The blade caught the beast's neck. The creature howled as its form began to splinter, disintegrating into ash.

Elena stared at the spot where it had been, her chest heaving. She had done it—she had killed it.

"Not bad," Cassian's voice called, though it was strained. She turned to see him still fighting, his movements growing slower, his breathing heavier. The wolves were closing in, circling like vultures.

Elena's stomach twisted. "There's too many."

Cassian grunted as another wolf lunged, his sword sinking into its chest. "Then run."

She froze. "What?"

"Run, you fool!" he barked, his silver eyes blazing.

But she couldn't. Not anymore. Cassian might have been infuriating, but he had fought for her. Saved her. And she would not leave him to die.

Gritting her teeth, Elena ran toward him. "I'm not leaving you!"

Cassian's gaze snapped to her, shock flickering across his face. "Elena, no—"

A sudden blast of light erupted around her, blinding and warm, like the glow of a rising sun. The wolves howled in agony, their forms crumbling to ash as the light washed over them. Elena stumbled to a stop, her vision swimming.

When the light finally faded, the clearing was silent. The wolves were gone.

Cassian stood a few paces away, his sword lowered, his silver eyes fixed on her with an expression she couldn't read.

"What… was that?" she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Cassian didn't answer immediately. He sheathed his sword, his gaze never leaving her.

"The crown has marked you," he said at last, his voice soft and dark. "And the real trials have only just begun."