Mei
The "Green Belt" was not like the rest of the Mooncrest forest. While the estate's outer woods were sharp with pine and the smell of hunting wolves, the Green Belt felt like the lungs of the mountain—ancient, humid, and thick with the scent of damp earth and crushed herbs.
Mei's lungs burned, a sharp contrast to the freezing mist she had just escaped. She wasn't just running from the shed; she was running from the memory of Alaric's eyes. The way he had looked at her—as if she were a parasite feeding on his grief—was a wound that the forest's brambles couldn't match.
The violet mark on her wrist was a dull, throbbing ache. Through the bond, she could still feel him. He was a cold, jagged presence back at the shed, a storm that had turned inward. The tether was heavy with his isolation, a leaden weight that pulled at her heart with every step she took toward Mira's hut.
