Moonlit Escape

Harmony suggested that Lysar take a short rest. Her voice was even, almost casual, though her chest was tight with the weight of what she truly intended. Lysar’s piercing eyes studied her for a long moment before he finally gave a slow nod. He reached for her hand — his grip firm, possessive — and together they walked toward the palace.

The corridor stretched ahead, its torches casting pools of wavering light along the stone walls. Their footsteps echoed in rhythm, yet the silence between them pressed heavy. Then Lysar spoke, his tone low, almost a whisper.
“You’ll stay by my side, so you won’t get any foolish ideas.”

Harmony’s breath caught. The words slashed through her composure, a reminder of how closely he watched her, how little freedom she had. She flinched, her heart sinking, but quickly steadied herself, swallowing the sharp sting of fear.
I won’t be able to save Evander if Lysar never leaves me alone, she thought, hiding her turmoil behind a mask of calm.

When they reached his chamber, Lysar closed the heavy door with a deliberate thud. The sound echoed like finality. He turned the key in the lock, then without hesitation strode to the balcony and tossed it into the night. The metallic clink as it vanished into the dark made Harmony’s stomach twist.

She stepped to the railing and peered down. The ground lay dizzyingly far below, a sheer drop that made her insides clench. Her palms grew damp.

“I wouldn’t advise you to try it,” Lysar said from behind her. His voice was steady, smooth, but it carried an edge sharp enough to cut. “Unless, of course, you’d rather break every bone in your body… or die.”

Harmony froze. She did not answer, but the warning in his tone coiled around her like invisible chains. His closeness was suffocating, his presence undeniable. She could smell the faint trace of wildness on him — fur, smoke, something dangerous and earthy. His ears twitched slightly, his tail swayed with controlled rhythm, as though every part of him was alert and calculating. And yet… there was something oddly soothing about it, a familiarity that tugged at her chest even as it terrified her.

He stepped forward, closing the space between them, and cupped her cheek with his hand. The warmth of his skin seeped into her, unraveling her tension for just a breath.

“I’ll let you be… for a little while,” he murmured. His voice had softened, but beneath it lingered an iron certainty. “Soon, you’ll be entirely mine.”

The words sank into her like a promise and a curse.

He sat on the bed and motioned with a tilt of his head. Reluctantly, Harmony moved closer. Lysar lowered himself until his head rested in her lap, his eyes searching hers briefly before they drifted shut.

She hesitated, frozen, but then her hand moved almost of its own accord. Fingers slid gently through his hair, tentative at first, then steady. His body relaxed under her touch, his lashes lowering as a soft exhale escaped his lips. And with every stroke, a strange electricity hummed between them — fragile, dangerous, undeniable.

Her thoughts spun away. She remembered the day she had saved him — not the commanding figure before her now, but the fragile, wounded cat who had looked at her with pure trust. She remembered how he had followed her in the halls of the castle, his presence then curious, kind, almost sweet. She had seen gentleness in him, a warmth hidden beneath his wildness. But that Lysar was gone.

What sat before her now was carved by disappointment, sharpened by desire unmet. His sensuality was raw, his longing transformed into something darker, edged with hunger and control.

Harmony’s chest tightened. Was it truly love denied that twisted him into this? The once-soft companion, now fierce and unyielding — every gesture filled with possession, every word a chain.

Still, she held him. Still, her hand caressed his head, even as her heart warred with itself. Somewhere within, she sensed the truth — Lysar still felt. He still longed. But that longing had turned into something distorted, something she could neither accept nor return.

Her voice was a whisper. “I know you’re still the same Lysar I once met. I just have to find you again. But… I’m sorry. I cannot return your love. Not the way you want me to.”

He did not answer. His breathing deepened, slow and steady. The weight of his body grew heavy against her, his feline form sinking into her lap with complete trust. Warmth radiated from him, and in that quiet moment, she realized: he had finally let his guard down.

And this — this was her chance.

Her heart thundered in her chest, so loud she was certain it would wake him. Every instinct screamed at her to stay, to remain safe beneath his watchful eye. But the thought of Evander was stronger, fiercer than fear. If Lysar discovered her escape, Evander’s life would hang by a thread. She could not let that happen.

Harmony rose silently, every movement deliberate. She padded to the balcony, her pulse hammering, her tail rigid. The wind brushed against her face, tugging at her hair, her ears flicking instinctively to the sound. Her body coiled tight like a bowstring, ready to release.

Her feline instincts whispered to her: the leap was possible. Terrifying, but possible.

The moon bathed her in silver light. Her heart raced, her body quivered with anticipation. This isn’t just a leap… it’s my mission. For Evander.

She pushed off the balcony with a single, decisive motion. The world tilted. Her body arched forward, tail slicing through the air to steady her descent. The wind roared in her ears, pressed against her chest, but her gaze never wavered. The ground rushed toward her, merciless and dark.

In mid-fall, she adjusted her form — legs bent, tail wide, every muscle aligned with perfect feline precision. Her eyes locked on a solid patch of earth below, her one chance at survival.

She hit the ground, rolling with the impact, energy rippling through her legs. Her body absorbed the force, and she sprang to her feet in one fluid motion. Breathless but alive.

Silence surrounded her, broken only by the whisper of the wind across the grass. Relief surged through her — she had made it.

But she had no time to linger. Lysar could wake at any moment. Evander’s face blazed in her thoughts, urging her onward.

She scanned the shadows, every sense on alert. The gardens stretched before her, flowers swaying under moonlight, statues casting long black silhouettes across the paths. Danger lurked in every corner, but Harmony slipped forward like a shadow herself — light, silent, unseen.

She reached a side entrance, easing into a narrow corridor that would lead her closer to the dungeons. Her breath came fast, but her steps were soundless, her ears straining for the faintest sound of pursuit.

Evander filled her mind — chained, wounded, waiting. Nothing else mattered.