Cinders

Chapter 12: The Visitor

My bedroom is cloaked in darkness, shadows lingering at the edges but no longer swirling around me or whispering their secrets. A male figure lounges casually on my bed, draped in shadow. Yet, I can still make out the silver glint of his eyes, like moonlight piercing the night.

"Who the hell are you?" I spit out, my pulse quickening as I clutch Luminaria's Edgle close to my chest.

"My name is Soren, darling," the stranger drawls. "And you are going to want to keep that dagger of yours exactly where it is. I am not here to hurt you."

"Then what do you want?" I ask tersely. Soren rises from my bed and starts to saunter towards me.

My breath catches in my chest as his form comes into focus, illuminated by the pale light filtering through the window. He stands tall, his presence dominating the room with an effortless confidence that sends a chill down my spine. His black hair falls in loose, unruly waves to his shoulders, framing a face carved with sharp, almost regal features. But it's his eyes that hold me captive—jet black with flecks of silver that catch the dim light, giving them an eerie, almost ethereal glow. Those eyes seem to see everything, piercing through the darkness and straight into my soul, making it impossible to look away. He exudes an air of controlled power, like a storm waiting to unleash its fury, and the tension between us crackles in the air, as if the very atmosphere is holding its breath, waiting for what comes next.

"Stay where you are if you don't want that pretty face of yours cut up," I warn, though my voice wavers as I try to sound menacing.

He doesn't flinch. Instead, his lips curl into a slow, calculating smile that makes my blood simmer with irritation. "I'm flattered you think my face is pretty. I didn't expect a compliment from someone so... hostile."

My grip tightens on Luminaria's Edge. "What do you want? I won't repeat myself."

His eyes, dark and unreadable, glide over me, assessing, almost predatory. "I want many things, darling," he says, his gaze lingering in a way that sends a shiver down my spine. "But right now, it's not about what I want—it's about what you need. So, why don't you put down that sword before you bleed all over the floor... and let's talk."

"You have a lot of confidence for an unarmed thief," I retort, lowering the blade slightly but not letting my guard down. "But fine, I'll play. What do I need?"

He steps closer, his movements smooth, almost lazy, like a cat playing with its prey. "You need someone who can help you transition from a pawn to a queen."

His words hang in the air, heavy with implication. I narrow my eyes, trying to read the intent behind those unsettling eyes. "And why would you want to help me with that?"

Soren's smile widens, but there's no warmth in it. "Because, Ash, in this game, pawns are easily sacrificed. Queens, however, are much harder to take down. You have the potential to be so much more than what you are. And I... well, I'm very interested in seeing how far you can go."

"What's in this for you?" I ask, my heart pounding so loudly that I'm certain he can hear it.

"Helping a beautiful woman such as yourself is a reward in itself," Soren whispers, his voice smooth and dark as he leans in, the warmth of his breath brushing against the shell of my ear. A shiver runs down my spine, unbidden and unwelcome. "But beyond that, I want what all warm-blooded men crave... revenge."

The word hangs between us, heavy and laden with meaning. His proximity is overwhelming, and I fight the instinct to step back, to put some distance between us, but I stand my ground. His smile is almost sweet as he continues, his voice a silken purr. "By your earlier oh-so-steely resolve, it seems to me that you want the same."

Soren's hand brushes against my cheek, a light, almost tender touch that contrasts sharply with the cold intensity of his words. My skin tingles where his fingers graze, a mix of anger and something else I can't quite place. I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "You think you know what I want?"

His eyes lock onto mine, unwavering and penetrating. "I know more than you think. James took something from both of us—he kept you captive, hoping you'd break his curse. But curses like his don't break easily. They demand a sacrifice. And you, Ash... you were never meant to be a pawn in his game. Together, we can bring him to his knees."

I search his gaze for any sign of deceit, but all I find is a burning resolve that mirrors my own. "You want me to trust you?"

"Trust is earned," Soren replies, his voice softening just enough to be disarming. "And I'll earn yours, if you let me. But first, you have to decide—are you ready to stop playing by his rules and start making your own?"

Thoughts buzz in my head, while shadows swirl around us. A wave of dizziness washes over me. I don't want any of this—I'm not cut out for these games. My chest aches so intensely, it feels like it might explode. I struggle to steady myself, but the world tilts. My vision tunnels, and just before everything goes dark, I see Soren reaching for me with unexpected gentleness.