Chapter 5
As they walked side by side, Victor broke the silence with a quiet sigh. “Man, I’m not feeling too great. I think I’ll just head home.”
“Yeah… me too, man. Me too.” Damian sighed deeply, the weight of everything pressing down on him. The distance between him and the grieving parents grew with each step, but the ache in his chest remained. He was unsure if it would ever leave.
It wasn’t long before Mr. and Mrs. Harris, after crying and mourning, made their way back home as well. They knew sleep wouldn’t come tonight, not with the emptiness that now lived in their hearts.
Meanwhile, down in the river, Ellie’s body slowly drifted away from the spot where she had fallen. The cold waters had dulled her scent, the sweet fragrance of roses dissipating as the hours passed. It lingered faintly for a time, but eventually, the trail faded completely, carried away by the current.
She drifted aimlessly, carried downstream until the current deposited her on the riverbank, far from the waterfall near the cliff. Her body lay motionless, her face pale, her limbs unresponsive. She looked lifeless, her once-vibrant energy gone, as if she had disappeared entirely. Was she dead?
The scent that had once clung to her like a familiar embrace now merged with the earthy, damp aroma of the surrounding forest, unnoticed by most. But not by him.
The Lycan King, the ruler of their realm, walked alone through the forest that night, as he did every night. The ritual had begun after a fateful incident eighteen years ago—the night he lost his daughter, his only child, in these very woods. Since that night, he had wandered here, each step filled with the hope of finding her, though he knew deep down that it was an impossible dream. Every night, he walked in search of something he would never find. And yet, he couldn’t stop.
But tonight, something was different.
As he strolled along the familiar path, a scent caught his attention. At first, it was faint, but unmistakable: wild roses. His heart skipped a beat. How could it be? He hadn’t smelled that fragrance in years. That scent—his daughter’s scent—was the signature of the royal females. He stood still, confused, and then, following the scent, he was led to the riverbank.
To his astonishment, there, lying motionless in the moonlight, was the body of a young girl, soaked by the river’s cold embrace. His breath caught in his throat, his pulse quickening as he rushed forward, desperate to see her face.
He knelt beside her, gently rolling her over, his heart in his throat. She was pale, weak, lifeless, but there was something about her… Something familiar in her features, something that made his heart ache with hope.
Could it be?
He gathered her into his arms, his heart pounding in his chest as he cradled her against him. Without thinking, he began running through the forest, his instincts taking over as he made his way toward the royal infirmary. His mind raced with one single question: Could it really be her? Could it be his long-lost daughter?
