Chapter Text
Yennifer
The flash of light blinded her as she fell face first into the ground. It was only a short fall but her face crumpled under the impact. Her nose took the brunt of it. She pushed herself up, wiping the blood from her mouth. She was in a forest clearing, the trees standing like sentinels, wind whispering through leaves. Where is this? The portal she jumped through must have sent her far-she doesn’t recognise this place. The King and his men would be hunting her. She could not linger.
She finds her pack where it landed and slings it over her shoulder. The strap rubbed against the puckered scars on her back, she winced, then started moving through the woods. She reached for her magic, sending the darkness that answers her call to root out danger. The tendrils sweep under leaf and bark, climb trunks, probe the ground—too eager, not the steady, watchful extension she’s used to.
“What are you doing? It's no time to play in the leaves.” Her tone is half scold, half grin. “Find somewhere safe. He’ll be on our trail, like always… asshole.
They reply, almost gleeful: He is coming
She froze. He can’t be here so soon. She sensed no hunters: no rustle of boots, no clink of armor. The forest was unnervingly still—no birds, no small creatures fleeing her steps, as if life itself has been driven out.
“Why do you sound happy about that?..we barely survived last time.” she whispers back to them. Her eyes scan the tree line, shadows, all she can see is shadows.
A pair of pale hazel eyes appears in the gloom. They blink, and a tall, broad man steps forward in fighting leathers and battered armor. Seven cobalt-blue gems glint across his chest. Both hands are scarred; the left clasps a matte-black dagger that drinks the light. Huge batlike wings are folded behind him, the clawed tips twitching. He is breathtaking in a dangerous way—at least a head taller than her, every inch poised for violence.
He looks at her, taking her in, watching the shadows coil around her. She holds her shadows still, watching the strange male take her in.
“Who are you?” he asks. His voice is smooth and cold. “You have shadows?” She stares at him blankly.
“Speak!” he growled. Shadows curl around him like smoke, he has shadows. Smoke-thin shadows curl about him too—similar, yet different, lacking the raw force she feels in her own. Fate’s irony makes her smile thinly: a portal that escaped one danger only to drop her before another She pulled her shadows closer, ready to strike if needed. This male looks dangerous, but she’s dealt with worse. No need to obliterate him. The male spoke again. “I said, speak.” His voice dropped lower, dripping in darkness and threat. She didn't have time for this, this male was not one of His goons and she needed to get as far away as she could before they came looking for her. She tensed and sent her shadows out, striking his chest, hurling him into a tree. The breath leaves him as bark splinters. Her tendrils coiled, pinning him to the trunk.
“You don't need to know the answer to either of those questions,” she said, her voice a steady, chilling silk.