Can I Trust Her?

Chapter 8: Can I Trust Her?

Ahead, the trees began to thin, revealing a small clearing bathed in pale moonlight. It wasn't much, but it would give them enough space to rest for the night. Lucian slowed his pace, his eyes sweeping over the clearing. His instincts screamed for caution. The air was thick with tension, but Alara could barely keep going.

"We'll rest here," Lucian said, his voice rough with exhaustion. "You need it."

Alara gave a weak nod. Her face was pale, and her breathing had grown more labored with each step. She was stronger than he expected, but even someone as resilient as her had limits. Lucian helped her down beside a fallen log, easing her into a seated position. The look of pain that flickered across her face confirmed what he had suspected—she was nearing her breaking point.

As Lucian gathered wood for a fire, the unease that had followed them through the forest only grew. It had been hours since they'd seen the creatures, but the forest felt alive, as if something—or someone—was watching. His gaze kept flicking toward Alara. Her story still didn't sit right with him, but he had no proof—yet.

"You're a hard man to figure out," Alara said, breaking the silence. She was watching him again, her eyes sharp despite her exhaustion.

"What's there to figure out?" Lucian struck the flint, watching as sparks caught the dry wood.

"Most would have left me by now," she said, her voice soft. "A wounded woman isn't exactly helpful out here."

"I'm not most men," Lucian said, the crackle of the fire offering little comfort.

Alara's lips curled into a faint smile, but there was something calculating in her eyes. "I know," she said. "You're different."

Lucian didn't respond, but he could feel the weight of her gaze. He had kept his distance, not revealing much about his past or his quest. But she was clever. She'd picked up more than he'd intended.

She leaned back against the log, wincing as she adjusted herself. "You're looking for something, aren't you? In the ruins of Ildenor."

Lucian's jaw clenched. He hadn't told her much, yet she had figured it out. He should have expected it—Alara wasn't just a passerby. "That's none of your concern."

Alara didn't flinch at his cold response. "I've heard stories," she continued, ignoring his deflection. "About the ruins. About the power buried there. It's not something to take lightly."

Lucian narrowed his eyes, his suspicion deepening. "You know a lot for someone who was just 'passing through the forest.'"

Alara hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of her cloak. "You hear things when you travel. The stories about Ildenor... they say the sorcerers who lived there defied the gods. That they paid the price, and their magic still lingers, twisted and dangerous."

Lucian's grip tightened around his sword hilt. He didn't trust her, but something in her tone made him pause. Was she warning him? Or was she testing him?

She sighed softly, her gaze flickering toward the fire. "What I want to know is, why? Why would anyone seek that kind of power, knowing the price?"

Lucian met her gaze, his voice flat. "I have my reasons."

Alara's lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile. "Don't we all."

The silence between them thickened, the crackling of the fire the only sound as Lucian stared into the flames. He couldn't shake the feeling that Alara was keeping something from him, but then again, he wasn't telling her everything either. Trust was a luxury he couldn't afford.

"Why are you helping me?" Alara asked quietly, breaking the silence. There was no accusation in her tone, just a genuine curiosity.

Lucian looked at her, the firelight casting shadows across her face. "I don't know," he admitted. And that was the truth. He hadn't planned to keep her with him, but something had stopped him from walking away. Perhaps he saw something of himself in her—someone cast aside, fighting to survive. Or perhaps it was because he didn't want to be alone.

Alara smiled weakly, her eyes softening for the first time since they'd met. "Thank you."

Lucian didn't respond. He stared into the fire, his thoughts swirling. Despite everything, he couldn't deny that Alara had proven herself. She had saved his life back in the clearing, fought by his side against the creatures. But her knowledge of the ruins... it was too much to be a coincidence. And that made her dangerous.

They sat in silence for what felt like hours, the fire slowly dying down. Lucian glanced over at Alara—her breathing had evened out, her body finally succumbing to exhaustion. He stood up, moving to the edge of the clearing, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade as he scanned the forest. His instincts were still screaming at him, but for now, they were safe.

As he leaned against a tree, Lucian glanced back at Alara. She looked peaceful in sleep, her features soft and unguarded. But Lucian knew better. People were rarely what they seemed. And trust... trust could be fatal.

For now, he would keep her close, let her think she had earned his trust. But when the time came, he wouldn't hesitate.

With that thought, Lucian settled down near the fire, his hand never leaving the hilt of his sword. He wouldn't let his guard down—not yet. But maybe, just maybe, there was still a part of him that wanted to believe she was different.

He just couldn't afford to find out the hard way.

---

The fire had burned low, casting long, flickering shadows across the clearing. The weight of exhaustion pulled at Lucian, but sleep was a luxury he couldn't afford. Not here, not with Alara so close, and certainly not with the forest watching them from the dark edges of the trees. His body ached from the constant tension, his mind replaying the events of the past few days, but his eyes stayed alert, scanning the surrounding woods for any sign of danger.

Hours passed, and the moon climbed higher in the sky, its pale light filtering through the trees. Alara had fallen into a fitful sleep, her breaths shallow but steady. Lucian watched her for a moment, his thoughts churning. She had proven herself capable in battle, but something about her still gnawed at him. She knew too much, and her willingness to trust him seemed too convenient.

Lucian leaned back against the tree, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His eyes flicked to the fire, the embers glowing faintly in the night. The air had grown colder, the forest quieter, but his instincts still screamed that something was wrong. He didn't trust easily, and Alara had given him too many reasons to be cautious.

His thoughts wandered to the ruins of Ildenor, the place they were heading. Power, ancient and dangerous, awaited him there. It was the only way to break the chains of fate that had shackled him since the day of the prophecy. He had lost so much already—his family, his village, everything that had once given his life meaning. Now, only the ruins stood between him and freedom from the path fate had set for him.

But something in the back of his mind reminded him that power always came with a price. He had seen it too many times in the people he had met—their thirst for power warping them, twisting their intentions until they were unrecognizable. Could he really trust himself with that kind of power? And more importantly, could he trust Alara?

Lucian's gaze drifted to her again. She had risked her life to help him, saved him from the beasts, fought beside him without hesitation. But there was something about her that still didn't sit right. She was hiding something, he could feel it. The way she deflected his questions, the way her eyes darted away when he asked about her past.

Lucian knew the look of someone keeping secrets.

As the fire began to die, Lucian stood, stretching his legs and walking to the edge of the clearing. The forest loomed before him, dark and silent, the trees casting long, twisted shadows in the moonlight. His thoughts were a tangled mess of suspicion and doubt, and for the first time in a long while, Lucian felt truly alone.

He ran a hand through his hair, the familiar weight of his sword at his side comforting him. He had come so far, fought so hard to survive, and yet the road ahead felt more uncertain than ever. Alara was a mystery, but he couldn't shake the thought that he might need her—at least for now.

Lucian turned his gaze back toward the clearing, where Alara still slept, her features softened by the glow of the dying fire. She looked peaceful, vulnerable even, but Lucian had learned long ago that appearances could be deceiving. He would keep her close, but he wouldn't let his guard down.

Not yet.

He made his way back to the fire, adding a few more sticks to the embers. The flames flared up, casting warmth through the clearing. He would let her rest for a few more hours, but come morning, they needed to move. The ruins were still days away, and every delay brought them closer to danger. There were forces at work here that Lucian didn't yet understand—forces that could be waiting for them at Ildenor.

Lucian sat down again, his back against the log, his sword resting across his lap. His eyes closed for a brief moment, but his senses remained sharp, always alert, always ready. He wouldn't be caught off guard. Not again.

As the hours passed and the sky began to lighten with the first hint of dawn, Lucian's mind wandered once more. He had spent so long fighting for survival, pushing forward despite everything fate had thrown at him, but the question still gnawed at him: Could he really trust anyone in a world that had already cast him aside? Alara had proven herself in battle, yes, but trust—trust was something earned, not given freely.

Morning came slowly, the pale light creeping through the trees as the forest awoke around them. Alara stirred, her eyes blinking open as she stretched her aching limbs. Lucian watched her for a moment, the unease from the night before still lingering in his chest.

"We should move," he said, his voice cutting through the silence. "The ruins aren't far, and we can't stay here."

Alara nodded, her face pale but determined. She pushed herself to her feet, wincing slightly as she adjusted her pack. Lucian noticed the way her movements had slowed, the strain from the fight and the injuries beginning to show. But she said nothing, just met his gaze with a quiet determination.

As they set off into the forest once more, Lucian kept his pace steady, his mind still racing with questions. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming—that the path ahead would be darker than anything he had faced before.

But he had no choice. The ruins of Ildenor awaited, and with them, the power that could finally free him from the prophecy's grip.

Whatever lay ahead, Lucian would face it. Alone if he had to.

He cast one final glance at Alara, her face set with grim focus as she walked beside him. For now, they would move forward together. But the question still lingered, gnawing at him with every step.

Can I trust her?