Bound by Dusk and Embers

Chapter Seven - The Mortal World

Amberlynn couldn't escape him.

Even as she left the shimmering halls of the Court of Duskveil and returned to the quiet, familiar world of her village, the Fox of Shadows clung to her thoughts like a lingering echo. His molten amber eyes haunted her dreams, his touch burning her skin, his presence a ghost that refused to leave her in peace. No matter how she tried to shake it, he remained—lurking in the recesses of her mind, just out of reach, as if he had taken a part of her with him that night.

Days passed, and the feeling didn't fade. It only grew stronger.

Amberlynn wandered her small cottage, restless and uneasy. The life she once cherished—the simplicity of gathering herbs, healing the sick, and walking the familiar paths of the forest—now felt distant, as if it belonged to someone else. Every task was tinged with the memory of that night. She would close her eyes and see the way he had moved toward her, the quiet command in his steps, the pull of something ancient and unspoken that had drawn her in. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced, yet it felt inevitable, as if their fates had been entwined long before she ever set foot in the Fae realm.

At night, sleep brought no peace. Her dreams were filled with shadows with silver light, the haunting music of the masquerade swirling around her. Each time, the Fox of Shadows was there, his hands on her waist, his presence enveloping her like a cloak. But just as their connection seemed to solidify, he would vanish—slipping away like mist through her fingers, leaving her breathless and aching with a longing she couldn't explain.

She should forget him. Every instinct told her to let go, to leave the Fae behind, to return to her life in the mortal world. But something inside her refused. It was as if a part of her was still bound to that night, to him, and she couldn't sever the connection, no matter how hard she tried.

Amberlynn threw herself into her work, hoping it would distract her, but even the familiar rituals of healing and gathering herbs felt hollow now. The woods, once her sanctuary, now seemed to hum with a strange energy, as though the magic of the Fae had bled into the edges of her world. Every rustle of leaves, every whisper of the wind set her heart racing, as if he were watching, waiting. But the Fox of Shadows remained elusive, a shadow that refused to materialize.

Frustration gnawed at her, and soon, the quiet life she had once cherished became unbearable. She needed answers. She needed to understand what had happened between them.

And so, she began to ask questions.

At first, her inquiries were subtle. She spoke to the older villagers who still believed in the old tales of the Fae, listening carefully to their warnings. They told her of the dangers of seeking out the Fae, of the cruelty and unpredictability of their kind. The Court of Duskveil, they said, was especially dangerous. It denizens were creatures of shadows, capable of bending reality to their whims, and they gave nothing freely. Mortals who ventured too far into their world never returned the same—if they returned at all.

But Amberlynn wasn't deterred. There was more to the story, something hidden beneath the fear and superstition, she was sure of it. She began travelling to nearby villages, searching for anyone who had come close enough to the Fae realm to offer more than just vague warnings. Her inquiries were met with the same response: silence or vague fear. Each mention of the Court of Duskveil brought only darkened expressions and words of caution. They told her to leave it alone. To forget it ever happened. To return to her life before it was too late.

But Amberlynn couldn't move on.

The need to find him, to understand what had happened at the masquerade, gnawed at her like a persistent ache. She dreamed of his eyes, of the connection that had flared between them, of the way it felt as though they had known each other for far longer than one night—one dance.

She ventured deeper into the forest, hoping to find any trace of the Fae or their magic. But the paths twisted and turned in ways they never had before. The trees seemed thicker, the shadows longer, as though the forest itself was keeping secrets from her. The more she searched the more elusive the Fae became, yet she could feel them watching—unseen eyes tracking her every move.

One evening, just as the sun began to set, casting the forest in hues of gold and shadow, Amberlynn came across an old traveller near the edge of the woods. He was hunched over, his cloak tattered and worn, his face lined with age, but his eyes were sharp, too sharp for someone his age. Desperate for answers, she approached him, heart pounding with hope that he might know something others didn't.

"I've heard of them," the old man, his voice rasping like the wind through dead leaves. "The Court of Duskveil. Dangerous folk, those. Not the kind you want to be chasing after."

Amberlynn swallowed barely daring to breathe. "I need to find someone from that court. A man. He wore a fox mask."

The traveller's eyes gleamed with something unreadable, and Amberlynn feared he would tell her the same as the others—that it was impossible, that she should forget. But instead, he looked at her with a knowing expression, as though he had seen this story play out before.

"You've been touched by their world, haven't you?" he asked, his voice lowering to a whisper. "Once they have you in their sights, you've never the same."

Amberlynn's throat tightened. She didn't need to answer; the old man seemed to understand. He nodded slowly.

"You won't find him," he said, the words carrying the weight of truth. "Not unless he wants to be found."

Amberlynn opened her mouth to protest, to demand how she could make the Fox appear, how she could call him from the shadows. But the old man only shook his head, his eyes filled with pity.

"Don't seek them out, girl. The Fae are dangerous enough on their own, but Court of Duskveil? They'll take everything from you, and you'll be left with nothing."

Amberlynn's heart raced, her mind whirling with his warning, but she couldn't let it go. "I have to find him," she whispered. "I need to."

The old traveller sighed, his gaze softening. "Then be ready for what comes next," he said, his voice tinged with sorrow. "Because once you step too far into their world, there's no coming back."

Amberlynn watched him disappear into the twilight, the weight of his words pressing on her chest. But even as his warning echoed in her mind, one thing remained clear.

She wasn't ready to let go. Not yet.

The Fox of Shadows had taken something from her that night at the masquerade. And Amberlynn was determined to get it back—even if it meant stepping into the darkness once more.