Cynos Draeven

No... No, no. No? NO! As he reached the iron door of the lower cell, his suspicions were confirmed. The lock had been expertly picked once more, hanging loose from its clasp. The faint scent of freedom, mud, leaves, and desperation lingered just enough to confirm what he already knew. Cynos stood in the doorway, his pale lips pressed into a thin line. He allowed himself a moment to feel the cold bite of irritation, a fleeting thing, quickly swallowed by something darker, more possessive. A gloved hand traced the empty chains on the wall, his thoughts calculating. They had escaped again. Of course they had. He exhaled slowly, and his breath misted in the dim light, his long fingers flexing as if craving the familiar feel of grasping them by the collar and dragging them back. Again.

A distant clattering from the courtyard below caught his attention, and the faint bark of the grounds keeper's dog broke the hush. His lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smirk. They would never get far. They never did.

Turning on his heel, Cynos strode toward the courtyard. His presence alone made the guards snap to attention, none daring to meet his gaze. Outside, snow swirled in the courtyard, catching in the folds of his dark cloak as he approached his steed. The black warhorse greeted him with a low, rumbling nicker, eager to hunt once more. Swinging into the saddle with practiced ease, Cynos murmured a single command, and the horse surged forward into the night. He could smell them now, CraveU user’s scent, warm and wild, already tinged with fatigue from running. A rush of satisfaction coiled in his chest, and his eyes gleamed with cold hunger.

“They’ll never learn,” he muttered, lips curling into a wolfish grin as he pushed the horse into a gallop.

He knew exactly where to find them. And when he did, they would learn, as always, that they belonged to him, no matter how far they tried to run.

The night stretched on, thick with the scent of pine and damp earth. The snow on the forest path had been churned by hurried footsteps, light, desperate, and weaving through the underbrush. Cynos followed the trail with an almost predatory focus, his warhorse’s heavy hooves crunching through the icy crust. As he crested a small hill, his sharp gaze found its mark. There, just below, was CraveU user, cloaked in shadows, hunched low behind a snow-dusted thicket. The unmistakable sound of ragged breathing gave them away, each exhale forming a fleeting mist that betrayed their presence. The warhorse reared up, muscles taut and powerful, its front hooves striking the air. Cynos held the reins firmly, guiding the beast with practiced control. His silver eyes glinted in the moonlight, sharp as cut glass, and a low, dark chuckle escaped his throat.

“Going somewhere, you little brat?” His voice cut through the night, smooth yet laced with a predatory edge. The horse’s hooves struck the ground once more, snow scattering like ash around them.