The forbidden path

The night was colder than she expected, the wind biting at her skin as she stepped farther from the house. The world outside seemed vast, untamed, like something she'd only seen in books—books her mother had forbidden her from reading too often. Her mother said the world wasn't ready for Anne. That the world would break her, tear her apart. But Anne had begun to wonder if it was her mother who was afraid.

The ground crunched beneath her boots as she stepped lightly into the darkness, the trees towering overhead like silent sentinels. The scent of the forest was intoxicating, a mix of damp earth, pine, and something wilder. The fire within her stirred again, restless, demanding more.

Anne stopped at the edge of the boundary. It was an invisible line, but she could feel it, a subtle hum in the air. If she crossed it, she knew, there would be no going back. Her mother had warned her countless times, told her of the dangers that awaited if she stepped too far from safety. But all of those warnings seemed less real now.

Her heart pounded, the heat of her dragon blood rushing to her veins. The breath inside her was quickening, the urge to push further, to test her limits, growing unbearable.

Suddenly, a movement caught her eye.

A figure, half-hidden by the trees, stood watching her. Tall, with dark hair that barely caught the moonlight. Anne's breath caught in her throat as she squinted, trying to make out the details. His eyes—bright, almost unnaturally so—pierced through the darkness, locking onto hers.

The stranger said nothing, just stared, as though waiting for her to make the first move. Something in the air between them shifted, a subtle crackle of energy, a pull that made her heart race and her blood burn.

Who was he?

Before she could think further, the figure stepped forward, moving swiftly and silently. It was only when he was close enough to see clearly that Anne realized he wasn't entirely human. His features were sharp, almost otherworldly, his skin pale but with a strange glow that seemed to catch the moonlight in a way that wasn't natural.

Anne froze, an inexplicable mix of fear and fascination gripping her. "Who are you?" Her voice came out sharper than she intended, more of a demand than a question.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, his gaze flicked over her, lingering on her face, her hands, her stance—calculating. Then, with a faint smile, he spoke.

"Who I am isn't as important as who you are," he said softly, the words slipping through the air like a whisper.

Anne's heart thudded painfully in her chest. She took a cautious step back, but the stranger didn't move. His eyes were still locked on hers, and for a moment, she felt an unfamiliar heat ripple through her body, the air around them thickening, heavy with something neither of them could name.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied, her voice less steady now. She couldn't explain it—why his presence made her feel like the earth was shifting beneath her feet. Like he knew something she didn't. Something about her.

The stranger took another step closer, his smile fading into something more serious, more knowing.

"I know what you are," he said, his voice now colder, more certain. "And I know what you can do. You shouldn't be out here alone."

Anne's pulse quickened. She took another step back, but now she could feel the heat in her chest, the fire inside of her surging. Her dragon blood was waking, and the need to unleash it—to let the flame free—was almost unbearable.

But instead of attacking, she stood still, trying to focus, trying to calm the chaotic swirl of energy inside her. "I can handle myself," she said, more to herself than to him.

The stranger smirked, his eyes gleaming with something between pity and amusement.

"You think you can. But you don't understand what's at stake. You're not like other people, Anne. You're more dangerous than you realize."

Anne felt a cold shiver crawl up her spine. His words were cryptic, like a warning, but something about him made her feel… alive. Her pulse raced, and her mind swirled with questions. Who was he? How did he know her name?

And most importantly, why did she feel like she had to listen?