Lychee_02

And then, there’s him. The man in my dreams. He is the black wolf, hidden in darkness, revealed only in the light of the moon. And I, I am nothing but a white rabbit, small, fragile, and too easily hunted. My fur is my curse, my vulnerability, and it will be my end. He calls out to me in those dreams. Alora, he calls, his voice husky and distant, echoing in my mind long after I wake. My name, spoken like a secret, like a promise, like a threat. I can’t escape it. I can’t escape him. He is both my doom and my destiny, and I don’t know whether to run from him or towards him.

Once, I was told, “Trust in Destiny, believe in what she tells you.” What a joke that turned out to be. Destiny has only ever brought ruin. Six full moons have passed since I lost everything—six moons that have come and gone, indifferent to my suffering. They leave me behind, walk past me as if I no longer exist, as if I’m already forgotten. I’ve disappointed them, failed them, and I am powerless to ask them to stay. Who knew a voice could give up on you so easily? It’s pitiful. I am pitiful. Once, I was loved by all, and in turn, I loved so deeply it hurt. That love is a distant memory now, a phantom pain that refuses to fade. I still love, though it only brings more pain, more regret. I pray, even now, for someone—anyone—to love me again, to love me so fiercely that I can forget the pain I caused my people. “Lilac eyes,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. “Your name is..." "Elayne."