Chapter 114
The fire crackled gently in the silence of the night. The soft flickers of amber and gold danced across Edith’s tired features as she sat beside Frant. They had been talking for over an hour now, their conversation starting from simple questions–Where are you from? What do you like to draw to thing neither of them had expected to share. Things that felt too fragile to voice but somehow safer in the quiet companionship they now shared,
Frans sat just a little too close, his warmth protecting her from the chill that settled over the forest. His arm rested on his knee, gaze flickering between her and the fire. Edith could still hear his soft laughter echoing in her chest from earlier, when he had teased her for her clumsy attempts at packing
She didn’t know when she had leaned into him. Or when her eyes grew too heavy to keep open. All she knew was that she felt safe–protected.
And so she drifted.
It wasn’t a nightmare. Not in the usual sense. It felt… different.
She feels like she was floating….
Above trees, above rivers, through clouds. There was no weight, no pain, just movement. Light.
Then the vision shifted.
A figure appeared–no, painted itself into her dream, line by line, like her own sketch coming to life. A woman. Dressed in royal blue robes, long silver-
blonde hair twisted with ribbons. Familiar.
“Anastasia?” The name tumbled from her lips, but she didn’t know why.
Or how she know her.
The woman turned. Her eyes, the same storm–gray as Edith’s, widened with recognition–and sorrow.
Behind her, a man emerged from the shadows. Broad shoulders, noble stance, but face hidden.
Until he spoke…
“Ellaine… Mio amore.”
Edith froze.
Ellaine? Who’s Ellaine?”
The name echoed. And with it, the image sharpened. The man stepped into the light.
It was…. Frans?
But not in the clothes he wore now. He was regal. Cloaked in gold–stitched velvet, a crest on his chest that pulsed with something ancient. His face held pain… and love.
Then fire.
The forest burned. Screams. Magic surged from their hands–hers too? She was casting. Fighting.
Wolves. So many wolves.
And then-
Separation. A pull so sharp it cracked something inside her dream–self.
And that’s when she gasped.
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“Edith!”
The voice jerked her from sleep. She shot up with a sharp inhale, chest heaving, her skin drenched with sweat,
Frans was already on his feet, his band at the hilt of his dagger, eyes scanning their surroundings for danger. But there was nothing. Only the dying fuc and sleeping traders.
Then his gaze found hers. “Are you okay?”
as she wiped her forehead. “Yeah… I–I’m sorry. Just a nightmare.”
She tried to breathe evenly, her hands trembling ached forward and gently placed the back of his hand on her forehead.
His brow furrowed. “You’re soaked. Are you
His touch was warm. Too warm. And gentle..
Her heart raced, not from the dream, but from the way
looked at her. Like she was important. Like she mattered.
further, voices stirred behind them. Damon and the other traders began to rise,
She quickly shook her head. “No, I think I’m fine. Just the heat from the fire, maybe.”
Frans didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue. Before he could preparing for the early departure.
Damon came over, rubbing his eyes, “You good, Edith? We’ll ride out in an hour.”
fine. Just a weird dream.”
Frans opened his mouth, clearly about
to
mention her condition,
Edith subtly grabbed his wrist. He stopped. She smiled at Damon and nodded. “I’m
Damon gave her a lazy nod and walked away.
When she let go of Frans, he stared at her hand for a second, then back at her eyes. Something passed between them–an understanding.
Without a word, he began helping her pack.
He moved like a man with purpose, his movements precise and practiced. Edith, still shaken, watched him as he folded her blanket, secured her satchel, and adjusted her cloak. He even helped her mount the horse, insisting she ride while he walked alongside.
“You don’t have to-”
“I do,” he cut in gently. “You’ve had enough of a scare.”
She smiled, touched. But deep inside, questions screamed louder than before.
Who was Anastasia?
Why did Frans call her mio amore?
And why did he look like the man in her dream?
The day passed in a blur…
Edith couldn’t stop thinking about the dream. Every leaf rustle and bird call reminded her of fire and howls. Her fingers kept twitching, remembering the glow of magic.
She looked at her hand. The same hand that had lit up the night when she was attacked.
Was it real? That light? Or just adrenaline and fear?
Frans didn’t bring it up. Not once. But he stayed close. Always within reach, always watching the trees as if expecting trouble.
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Chapter 114
“Edith!”
The voice jerked her from sleep. She shot up with a sharp inhale, chest heaving, her skin drenched with sweat.
Frans was already on his feet, his hand at the hilt of his dagger, eyes scanning their surroundings for danger. But there was nothing. Only the dying fire and sleeping traders.
Then his gaze found hers. “Are you okay?”
She tried to breathe evenly, her hands trembling as she wiped her forehead. “Yeah… I–I’m sorry. Just a nightmare.”
His brow furrowed. “You’re soaked. Are you sick?” He reached forward and gently placed the back of his hand on her forehead.
His touch was warm. Too warm. And gentle.
Her heart raced, not from the dream, but from the way he looked at her. Like she was important. Like she mattered.
She quickly shook her head. “No, I think I’m fine. Just the heat from the fire, maybe.”
Frans didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue. Before he could press further, voices stirred behind them. Damon and the other traders began to rise, preparing for the early departure.
Damon came over, rubbing his eyes, “You good, Edith? We’ll ride out in an hour.”
Frans opened his mouth, clearly about to mention her condition, but Edith subtly grabbed his wrist. He stopped. She smiled at Damon and nodded. “I’m fine. Just a weird dream.”
Damon gave her a lazy nod and walked away.
When she let go of Frans, he stared at her hand for a second, then back at her eyes. Something passed between them–an understanding.
Without a word, he began helping her pack.
He moved like a man with purpose, his movements precise and practiced. Edith, still shaken, watched him as he folded her blanket, secured her satchel, and adjusted her cloak. He even helped her mount the horse, insisting she ride while he walked alongside.
“You don’t have to-
”
“I do,” he cut in gently. “You’ve had enough of a scare.”
She smiled, touched. But deep inside, questions screamed louder than before.
Who was Anastasia?
Why did Frans call her mio amore?
And why did he look like the man in her dream?
The day passed in a blur…
Edith couldn’t stop thinking about the dream. Every leaf rustle and bird call reminded her of fire and howls. Her fingers kept twitching, remembering the glow of magic.
She looked at her hand. The same hand that had lit up the night when she was attacked.
Was it real? That light? Or just adrenaline and fear?
Frans didn’t bring it up. Not once. But he stayed close. Always within reach, always watching the trees as if expecting trouble.
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Chapter 114
When they stopped to rest, he helped her off the horse, offering his hand with a silent nod. She accepted it, his grip tint but not forceful.
They sat together again by the fire that night.
“Do you believe dreams mean something?” she asked, stirring the stew in her small tin bowl.
Frans was quiet. “Sometimes. Not always.”
“What if… what if you dreamed of someone you’ve never met? But felt like you knew them?”
He looked at her. Not just looked–studied. “Who did you see?”
“A woman. Beautiful. Blonde hair. Her name was… Anastasia?”
Frans stiffened.
Edith noticed. “You know her?”
He nodded slowly. “She was… important. To the kingdom.”
To you? she wanted to say.
But then she added, “There was also a man… And strangely he called me… Ellaine.”
Frans froze. His eyes locked on her with such intensity she almost recoiled.
“What did he look like?”
I keep staring without saying anything for a moment.
I sighed “You.”
He looked away, jaw tightening.
Edith felt her heart pound. “Frans. Who is Ellaine?”
“Someone lost.”
His voice was rough. Final. But his eyes, when they met hers again, held something deeper–sorrow, longing, guilt.
“You loved her,” she said quietly.
He nodded.
She lowered her gaze to the fire. “Then I’m sorry. For reminding you.”
But he shook his head. “You don’t need to be sorry, Edith. Some things… aren’t so easily buried.”
Why? Where is she now?
She felt something stir in her chest. Pain–but not hers. His.
And she wanted to carry it for him.
They continued traveling, the terrain rougher as they entered the outskirts of the next village. Still, Frans never left her side.
The bond forming between them was unspoken but undeniable. He always knew when to hand her water, when to offer his cloak. When she stumbled, he steadied her. When she laughed, he smiled like her happiness mattered.
Chapter 114
By the time they reached the safety of a fortified trade post, Damon looked between them and smirked.
“You two keep this up, people will start calling you mates.”
Edith’s face turned scarlet. Frans didn’t speak, only stare at her with his jaw tight again.
That night, Edith sat alone in her temporary room, staring at her reflection. She ran a hand through her hair and whispered to herself.
“Ellaine…”
She expected nothing. But then-
A faint echo.
‘Yes… finally.
She gasped. Her eyes widened.
A voice. In her head.
Her wolf?
But then silence. Like it had never happened.
Her heart thudded wildly. She pressed her palm over her chest and whispered again.
“Who am I really…?”
AD
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