Thana had always been deeply imaginative—an artist at heart. Ever since she was a child, people praised her work, claiming it possessed something extraordinary, something beyond the ordinary eye.
She preferred painting over speaking. Through each brushstroke, she conveyed visions only she could see, bringing to life images that others could scarcely imagine. Yet no one had ever witnessed the full extent of her magic. Her best works remained hidden behind the secret door of her bedroom, kept from the world like sacred spells.
Thana's mind was boundless, her imagination untamed.
Vampires, elves, aliens—she considered every fantastical possibility as she crept toward the source of the splashing. But the moment he raised his head from the shimmering water, her heart jumped and her thoughts scattered like stardust.
The man that she was staring at was breathtaking.
A single droplet slid from his temple as he swept his wet, tousled dark hair back. His grey-blue eyes, alight with suspicion, pierced through the darkness, searching in her direction. Surrounded by a blue-hued glow, he stood partially illuminated, revealing a sculpted torso and perfectly toned abdomen.
Thana couldn't help but marvel at his form—his almond-toned skin smooth and unmarred by scars. He was unlike anyone she had ever seen in London or anywhere else on Earth. No model could compare. His beauty was surreal. Otherworldly.
But he wasn't the alien she had imagined. He looked only a year or so older than her, young yet forged by time, with a physique that must have taken years to build.
She remained completely still, watching. The longer she stared, the more visibly agitated he became. He could sense a gaze fixed on him but saw no signs of life among the thick brush and shadows surrounding him.
And that was only because Thana stood as motionless as the wind.
"Who's out there?"
His voice rang out, deep and hollow, edged with menace. The sound rippled through the trees and struck Thana like a wave, making her spine stiffen. Somehow, it didn't surprise her. A man with a face that could kill might very well have a voice to match.
Then she spotted it—a gleam of silver resting by the rocks, beside a neatly folded pile of clothes. Her breath caught in her throat.
That's a real sword? she mouthed silently, eyes wide.
"I can feel your gaze," the man growled. "Reveal yourself. You're within the palace grounds. If you're a servant, then you should know this area is off-limits."
Palace? Palace? Thana's thoughts scrambled. She didn't dare move. Her legs stayed crouched, folded beneath her in a twisted, vulnerable heap.
Perhaps going for a midnight stroll through mysterious woods wasn't her brightest idea. She had only imagined wild animals lurking in the shadows—not gorgeous, sword-wielding men with refined, unfamiliar accents.
He sounded vaguely British, but different—too crisp, too proper. It reminded her of something out of an old film, precise and aristocratic in a way no one around her spoke.
Thana said nothing. Her silence only deepened the man's irritation.
And then he moved.
Her eyes flew open as he rose from the water, steam curling around him like a cloak. She tried to swallow, but ended up choking on her own breath.
He was completely, gloriously naked.
Bare from head to toe.
He reached for the silver sword by the rocks, lifting it with effortless grace and pointing it toward the bushes where Thana crouched. His gaze sharpened into a fierce glare, but Thana, trembling from both awe and amusement, couldn't help but mumble under her breath, "Not bad at all."
One more step from him, and she'd had enough of hiding. With a sudden motion, Thana sprang up, startling the man into a defensive retreat. Though she remained partially veiled by the shadows, the pale shine of her winter-grey eyes and the wild disarray of her hair were visible through the low light.
"Wait, wait—I mean no harm," she called out, hands raised in surrender, eyes deliberately avoiding anything... indecent. But it was proving difficult.
He squinted, trying to get a better look at her. Then his tone sharpened, "You—are you a servant? What are you doing here? Servants are forbidden in this sector! Show your face so I can report you to your superior."
"Uh, no," Thana said flatly.
His expression twisted with confusion. "What?"
"I said no," she repeated, with a slight tilt of her head and a dramatic sigh.
The man stood rigid, clearly unaccustomed to being spoken to that way. "What did you just say to me?" he asked, incredulous.
Thana let out a short, exasperated laugh and rolled her eyes. "I'm not a servant, thank you very much. And I think that's a bit rude, don't you? Look, I woke up in the middle of this creepy forest thanks to some crazy old bloke who runs a bookstore. Now I'm just trying to get back to London—if I can even figure out where the hell I am. So, kind sir, if you could please cooperate and maybe point me in the right direction, I'd be very grateful. I might even reward you. My father's rich."
Much to Thana's surprise, the man broke into a fit of laughter at her explanation—and her attempted bribe. She found it rather rude, until she remembered she had laughed first when he mistook her for a servant.
He finally calmed, his laughter fading into a breathless exhale as he narrowed his eyes at her. "You almost had me fooled."
Her pulse quickened. Her breath caught. A chill ran down her spine as the man—still entirely naked and dangerously handsome—began striding toward her, his expression sharp with suspicion and something darker. His silver sword scraped softly against the grass as he moved, gleaming with a deadly luster.
Thana clenched her trembling hand, willing herself to stay alert. This was no time for weakness or fear. No time for the past to swallow her. She had to hold her ground.
"You... a runaway mage," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't know how you slipped inside the palace walls."
He was close now. Thana flinched when he casually swung the blade, slicing through a branch that dared block his path. It cracked with a snap.
Then he laughed. A cold, eerie sound that didn't belong to someone so beautiful. His eyes seemed to glow with something unearthly. "You picked the wrong—"
A loud smack echoed through the woods.
The man collapsed.
Thana stood frozen, thick branch in hand, her chest heaving. She stared down at his motionless body with wide, frantic eyes, her fear turning to disbelief.
She gave him a cautious nudge with her foot.
Nothing.
"Oh my god," she whispered. "Did I kill him?"
The branch slipped from her grip and fell to the ground. She stepped back, staring at him. "What a waste. He was gorgeous."
Her gaze dropped involuntarily.
Flawless. Smooth. A perfect peach.
Suddenly, his eyes snapped open.
He groaned, glaring up at her with rage. It sounded more like a growl than a voice.
Thana screamed.
The sound pierced the night air, so loud that the man hissed and covered his ears. But then their eyes met.
He froze.
Something flickered in his expression. Shock. Recognition. Wonder.
But before he could speak, the pain in his head overtook him and he slumped back, dazed and silent. By the time he managed to lift his gaze again, the strange girl who had intruded on his bath, insulted his honor, and bludgeoned him unconscious—was already gone.