They had searched all day and well into the evening, roving uneven terrain partially stripped of its lush greenery; a handful of trees made bare and dull beneath a harsh, cold air as the seasons slowly transitioned, winter edging in.

Dried and wilted leaves crunched beneath the hooves of their horses, many of faded color still clinging to deciduous tree limbs.

The forest had yet to produce any promising signs of Sera, or that of her pack of hounds, as she referred to them.

It made Don restless. Desperate. Willing to do just about anything to put an end to his enemy, and if that meant him too, then so be it.

Sera may have already swapped bodies. Adopted another pilfered face. She could be in the village now, biding her time, blending among the crowd poised to strike at his weakness at any given moment.

The very thought had panic welling up inside of him.

He would tear the village apart if necessary, conscience be damned. If it condemned his soul further, again, so be it. He was past the point of caring. Through with living in the past. This time around, he would embrace his demons – his darkness. Having once perpetuated unforgivable things for the sake of love, he was prepared to do it again if it meant saving her. It was all that mattered to him. It was all that consumed his thoughts, his very being. It was what he should have done from the very beginning when Sera had been within reach. But he'd been too stunned and outraged to discover that the woman who had betrayed him, who had cursed him for all eternity, was very much alive.

This was so much more than about righting a wrong and breaking his curse.

Sera intended to engender carnage at the cost of losing the woman he loved.

He could not bear it. He would not have it.

Denying his feelings for Elle and the attraction between them, had led only to deeply wound her. He thought it had been the right thing to do, that it would be enough to discourage Sera's unwanted attention, to deceive and convince his enemy of his disinterest. But he could have never predicted or expected the series of events that had brought him to this point.

To learn that Elle's body was somehow fashioned by a greater power, created by Sera and Veda's ancestors to sustain immeasurable synergy, was beyond the realm of possibility. It defied logic and reasoning. It went beyond anything he could have ever imagined or believed feasible. But his curse served as a tangible manifestation of just what kind of power – evil, lurked in the world.

His mind still struggled to understand it ... to accept it.

Casting a longing glance in the direction of the village, he felt compelled to steer his horse around and pursue her, to secure her safely in his arms, to plead for her forgiveness for all the horrible untruths he had spouted. But he was driven by a far more pressing need to find Sera first and eliminate the immediate danger.

It was a risk that could cost him everything.

A risk that could devastate him.

With Elle's sight restored, she was probably alarmed and confused as to why and how it could happen, suffering a sensory overload that probably intensified those emotions tenfold. She wouldn't have known about Sera, that his enemy was a breathing, existing threat with nefarious intentions. He had wanted to protect Elle from all aspects of danger, shield her from Sera, by keeping her unapprised of his former lover's existence, but he never imagined that there was something considerably darker working actively against him.

It was because of him that Elle had been violently attacked. She was his weakness. The chink in his armor. The softness that would indefinitely undo him.

Finding Sera's man as he tried to crush the life from her body, had dredged up devastating memories and emotions, reopened old wounds, specifically the precise moment when he first learned Sera had murdered his mother. He felt those explicit feelings sweep through him, cinching his heart and soul in a merciless grip. Just like all those years before, the blinding rage, the self-loathing and regret, washed over him. Consumed him. Broke him. Wishing tirelessly that he could alter the fatal outcome, wishing he could have prevented any of it from happening.

Don thought of the bruises on her beautiful skin, wanting nothing more than to fracture the bastard's face a hundred times over, leaving him to recover only to do it again.

He would eventually kill the wretch for touching her – hurting her, but not before making him suffer slow, unspeakable pain for an undetermined length of time. And he would enjoy every bit of it. Relish in it.

Sera's hound would feel the cold steel of his blade.

As his thoughts turned to Elle, he couldn't help but wonder if she considered him too.

It was a selfish notion, he knew that deep down, given all the horrible things he had said and done to her, but he couldn't do a damn thing about it. It felt like they were worlds apart, and it was doing terrible things to him.

"A coin for your thoughts?"

Don hurled a glare at the witch riding alongside him, almost forgetting her presence, "I wouldn't divulge a superficial thought, much less a meaningful one to you, de Ceville."

A teasing grin inched across her lips, "Pity."

"Should you not be channeling your craft and locating your sister's whereabouts?" he sneered, "I grow weary of being led astray."

Icy eyes flicked to him, "I told you, beast, it's not that simple. I cannot voluntarily wield my second sight at will. Nature doesn't work that way."

"Pity," He mirrored, "We have scoured this forest for hours, either your sister is adept at evading us," he pinned her with another flinty glare, "Or you are purposefully steering me on a fruitless pursuit to grant her time. Which is it?"

"I am just as much in the dark as you."

"Unlikely, considering your unnatural clarity for things," Don growled, "And I have no reason to believe otherwise. Until I am confident that you are not abetting your wicked kin, I'll be keeping my thoughts and distrust of you close."

A beat of silence.

"Is that a superficial notion or a meaningful one?" Veda taunted.

A growl of warning climbed in his throat.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are insufferable?"

Don flattened his lips, his nostrils flaring.

"Ill-tempered?"

Jaw hardening, his hands fisted around his reins.

"Disagreeable, then?"

Only one person had dared to call attention to his less than favorable disposition. The bittersweet reminder brought a knifelike jab to his chest, just where his heart thrashed, pulsing discomfort through his veins. He rubbed roughly at the spot with his thumb.

"You vex me, woman."

Veda gave a soft laugh, the sound very incongruous of its aloof host, "Aye, well, there is something to be said about a vexing woman."

"She should be throttled?" he muttered through gnashed teeth.

Her grin splayed wide, flashing a row of small, white teeth, "You'll never be afflicted with boredom."

"I suddenly have an affinity for boredom." His eyes then narrowed suspiciously at her, "What game are you playing?"

The light-hearted banter was unusual for the frigid woman sitting across from him, who hours before, had spoken gravely of mass destruction and elemental beings. It was almost as if they were ... amiable again, as their former selves from two decades prior, before all the deceit and bloodshed. He and Veda had not been extremely close, but when he'd courted Sera, he had grown somewhat fond of the elder sister, admiring her humor and wit. He was seeing glimpses of that Veda now ... which made him all the more suspicious.

"Your humor is misplaced, given that we're presently on a witch hunt."

Any mischief that danced in her pale eyes vanished, extinguished like a candle flame, that familiar ice rising to the surface. "You mistake humor for bundled nerves. I take no pleasure in what you intend for my sister. I am merely trying to make small conversation to distract myself from what lies ahead."

"Am I to suddenly believe that you possess a conscience?" Don uttered, "Was it not you that suggested death earlier? To 'free her' as you so mildly put it?"

"That's not to say that I haven't hope for other recourses."

"As far as I see it, your sister is out of options."

A heavy silence burgeoned between them.

"I find you incorrigible."

Don chuckled darkly, "Most do."

Veda shifted in the saddle to better fix him with those unnerving blue eyes, pushing strands of long, white hair over her shoulder to say, "Tell me, beast, have you considered what will come of you if Sera is dead? If your curse will be broken ... or will persist?"

He paused to survey the lands, peering past the shadows of the trees and deep into the forest, expecting to find a gaunt face to appear, "I suspect it will end when I end your sister."

She arched a brow at him, "You are so sure?"

Turning, he glowered at her, "I don't much care, witch."

"You relish in looking frightful?" Veda prodded.

Don wrenched his horse sideways to pin her with a menacing look, "I relish in the prospect of severing your sister in two. Scars or not, it makes no difference how this will end. It doesn't change the last two decades or what others seem to think of me, and I don't particular give a damn either way."

She studied him dubiously, "And what of Elle?"

He tensed, anger burning a hot path in his gut, "What about her?"

"With her vision whole, do you think she could accept you as you are?"

He had shoved that unremitting thought to the deep recesses of his mind, unwilling to confront it and the feelings it roused. It was one thing to hear of something ghastly, but encountering it was another matter entirely. Her fanciful impression of him was a far cry from his 'frightful' appearance, as Veda so delicately put it.

Would Elle think him grotesque? Unsightly? Horrid? Could she accept him in this form? If the curse endured Sera's death, would Elle still confess to love him? Or will it decimate her tender feelings for him?

It troubled him more than he cared to admit.

"It doesn't matter," Don retorted, "Elle is where she is meant to be. With her family."

"But you claim she is yours?" Veda challenged.

He didn't hesitate. "Completely."

She bobbed her head, "Hmm, that may prove difficult granted that she is betrothed to another."

Don stiffened in his saddle, spearing her with a furious glare, "What?"

"Her father has arranged for Elle to be married. A young man from the village. It is what I saw back at the castle when you questioned me further on my vision. I didn't think it wise to tell you ... seeing as how you intend to love her from afar." The last was said with heavy sarcasm.

His eyes turned murderous, baring his teeth as he snarled, "I'll kill them both."

"What did you say, beast?"

"Her intended," Don growled viciously, jerking his horse into motion, "And her idiotic father!"

They resumed their steady pace, continuing in brooding silence. Saying nothing as nightfall drew near, making visibility poor.

"I need to know one thing," Don muttered after a length of time.

"What is that?"

"Is there a way to separate Elle from what makes her the elemental host?" he paused in the advancing darkness, "A way to eradicate the part that makes her an integral component in all of this? To prevent others from hunting her, using her as your sister intends to do?"

Veda failed to reply for several unnerving beats, the prolonged quiet intensifying his unease, as she deliberated his question.

"There is a way."

His breath hitched in his chest, "How? Tell me."

Ice-blue eyes found him in the dark, "Death."

***************

A veritable sense of danger ripened the frosty air. It tingled at the nape of her neck and whisked across her exposed skin like a wintry chill.

When Prudence had appeared unexpectedly before them, it had been an immediate shock to find her alive and essentially unharmed, so much so that Elle had nearly forgotten the need to feign her blindness.

Thankfully, Prudence hadn't remarked or seemed to notice any changes in her mannerisms to warrant further scrutiny, likely too concerned with retrieving help for Abigail, the thought assuaging some of her concerns for the time being.

Shivering within her cloak, Elle regarded her neighbor from beneath her lashes as she clutched her walking staff a little tighter.

It struck her somewhat odd that, for all intents and purposes, Prudence outwardly appeared unconcerned with their urgent plight, having not offered up an explanation as to what had happened or the reason for their disappearance. Likewise, there was something deeply troubling in the way she observed them, or rather, her, with rapt intensity and unnatural stillness.

But as much as common sense and natural intuition droned with warning, urging her to retreat, she simply could not desert her sister.

Her impetuous and reckless sister, who was presently trudging ahead of her through thick underbrush; appearing more determined to be the savior and gain their father's respect, than heedful of any potential threat.

"Esme, we really –"

"Her death will be on your conscience," Prudence interjected harshly, searing eyes finding her in the fading light, "Is that what you want?"

Elle faltered in her gait, struggling to keep her eyes afield for the unsettling remark nearly drew her focus to its source. "Of course not, I just mean to say –"

"There is no time for words," She snapped, gesturing with a spindly finger to an elevated ridge, "She is just beyond that hill. Come with your walking stick and find out for yourself."

Her heart skipped a prominent beat within her chest, for it was spoken in a knowing way that sent a chill skating down her spine. Had Prudence noticed her direct stare? Her close examination? Could she tell that her sight was whole? Was there implication there? She couldn't be sure.

"Why does she not call out to us then?" Elle questioned after an awkward moment, canting her head as if she would descry a sound of pain or discomfort.

Esme halted in her crashing pursuit, her brows creasing with a frown as if she too considered the deafening silence that bridged the forest.

There were no distinguishable cries of pain to be heard. In fact, nature was eerily still. Unmoving. Tense. Braced in a way that suggested a predator within its midst.

A look of mild annoyance flitted across Prudence's features but quickly disappeared beneath a partial, reassuring smile. "She is rendered unwell. Too weak to move, much less call out for help." She motioned them closer, "We mustn't dally as we are, she is near death. Come, now."

Her hasty explanation seemed reasonable enough for Esme, for she proceeded to follow with a nod of her head.

With a soft sigh of resignation, Elle reluctantly followed suit of her sister, who was just a few feet in front of her.

As they drew closer to Prudence, who lingered for them to catch up, she noticed furtively that she hardly gazed in Esme's direction. Nay, her eyes were riveted upon her, almost frightening in their concentrated frankness, studying her in a way that made her uncomfortable.

It was enough to make her recoil in her cloak. Hoping to appear small and unsure in her strides, wielding her staff widely to guide her steps. Just as she would before when she'd been blind.

It was imperative that no one knew about her functioning sight, at least for a while, until she had a better understanding herself as to the whys and wherefores of it. She felt it necessary to keep it a secret.

Glancing at Prudence, who offered her sister another encouraging smile with a subtle tilt of her lips, Elle found herself more unnerved by her behavior. The gesture didn't altogether reach the flatness of her eyes. It felt deceptive, staged to set their minds at ease.

Perhaps it was the shocking and remarkable events of the day, the instability of her thoughts and emotions, that had her on edge. Maybe she was overthinking things. She was still adjusting. Still trying to find her way in the vast, intimidating world that made her feel more insecure every waking moment. She would never truly acclimate without feeling some semblance of wonder and tentativeness.

She was just overanalyzing everything. Surely.

In lieu of her thoughts, she tried centering on what was familiar. Sound. But Prudence had fallen quiet, sparing them another brief glance before forging ahead towards the hill she had indicated.

As they began their slight ascent, Elle surveyed their surroundings, unable to shake her uneasiness the further they went. She didn't look back, but knew if she did, the village would no longer be visible as nightfall spanned across the countryside.

Trembling against the chillier air, she gathered her cloak tighter around her midriff.

It wasn't until they reached the peak of the hill that the disconcerting quiet was furiously disrupted by a flurry of motion and a thundering of hooves.

A mindless panic stole over Elle as four men on horseback barreled down upon them. In the staggering alarm and confusion, she dropped her pretense to appear blind, her staff slipping from her fingers to topple to the ground as she spun wildly about, her hands instinctively reaching for her sister.

With wide, frightful eyes, she scanned the faces materializing before her, realizing horrifyingly that they were caged in.

Prudence had led them into a trap.

One of the men, the largest in fact, drew her immediate focus as he dismounted from his horse and began to lazily stalk towards her.

Panic soared within her chest; forcing her heart to pound in sync to every looming step that brought the man closer.

His visage was a gruesome display of torn flesh, dried blood, and mishappen bones. It was battered beyond repair. The end product of another's violence and rage. There was no way of visibly recognizing his face, but it was his stench that steeped familiar in the air. The ragged pitch of his voice as he uttered 'little bird' before the crushing force of his fingers lunged to grab her.

Terror bounded through Elle as a weakened plea lodged in her throat.

She knew this man.

Had violently encountered him.

How had he escaped Don's underground cells? How could Solomon be striding towards her with a splintered grin and fiery retaliation in his eyes? How did he know Prudence?

She hadn't time to ponder it, for he was nearly upon her.

A strangled sound wedged in her throat as she peeled her eyes away to find her sister just out of reach, pale and gaping in horror at the men leering back at her.

Hauling in a massive breath, she screamed, "Esme, run!"

And then she felt a tremendous blow to her head.