The Woods of Silence was nothing like I expected.


    At first, the loss of magic was a dull, sinking sensation—a quiet absence that hummed beneath my skin. But the further we walked, the more I felt it. The air was thick, smothering, and the silence was unnatural, like the world itself was holding its breath. No wind, no rustling leaves, not even the distant hum of insects. Just . . . nothing.


    We had only known magic for a few days, but already, it felt like something had been ripped away. My fingers twitched, reaching for spells that weren’t there, for currents of energy I could no longer feel. I wasn’t the only one.


    Gabrielle walked stiffly, rubbing her fingers together, as if trying to summon a drop of water between them. Zeke kept snapping his fingers, expecting sparks that never came. Amethyst’s hands hovered near her chest, as though preparing a healing spell. Nothing worked. It was a stupid instinct, and yet, none of us could seem to shake it.


    We trudged forward in silence.


    The trees around us were tall and gnarled, their branches twisting like skeletal fingers toward the sky. The further we went, the heavier the air became. It wasn’t just the quiet. It was the way everything felt wrong.


    Pierre whispered, “I don’t like this.”


    Neither did I. For the first time, I agreed with Pierre.


    Kaldi and Dero marched at the front, their massive forms cutting a steady path through the undergrowth. They didn’t seem as unsettled as the rest of us, but then again, they never had magic to begin with.


    I kept my eyes ahead, forcing myself to focus on one step at a time. But something about the trees, the way they bent and shifted in the dim light, made the hairs on my arms stand on end.


    Then it happened.


    A sharp whistle sliced through the air.


    Everything erupted at once.


    Figures burst from the trees, silent as shadows. I barely had time to react before something slammed into my side, knocking the breath out of me. I hit the ground hard, my hands scraping against the dirt.


    Panic surged. My mind screamed for magic—lightning, wind, ice, anything—but there was nothing. Just empty air.


    The fight was chaos.


    Viktor roared, throwing a wild punch at an attacker, but they dodged easily, striking back with brutal precision. Gabrielle stumbled back as someone lunged at her, instinctively raising a hand—for magic that wasn’t there.


    The realization hit like a punch to the gut.


    We weren’t fighters. Not really.


    We had never been in a real battle before.


    The mercenaries—whoever they were—fought like they had done this a thousand times. We fought like desperate children.


    Zeke was the first to fall. A swift kick to his legs sent him sprawling, gasping for breath. Pierre, in an attempt to shift, was struck before he could even react.


    I tried to scramble to my feet, but a hand snatched my wrist and yanked me forward. A blade glinted in the dim light. I barely twisted away in time.


    I should have been thinking about strategy. Instead, all I could think about was how helpless I felt.


    No lightning. No ice. No wind. Just my own weak body, useless against a trained warrior.


    Kaldi and Dero were the only ones holding their ground. The massive bears barreled through attackers, their roars shattering the eerie silence. Dero threw a mercenary to the ground, while Kaldi swung a massive paw, sending another flying.


    But even they couldn’t protect all of us.


    A mercenary grabbed Cassandra from behind, yanking her back. I saw the panic in her eyes, saw the way she tried to summon her telekinesis—only for nothing to happen.


    She struggled. I tried to reach her.


    I didn’t make it in time.


    Cassandra’s scream cut through the air.


    I turned just in time to see her dragged backward, a mercenary’s arm locked around her throat.


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    “Let her go!” I roared, but the words felt empty. What could I do without magic?


    I staggered forward, but someone barreled into me from the side, knocking me back to the ground. I twisted just in time to avoid a knife plunging toward my ribs, grabbing my attacker’s wrist with both hands. My muscles strained. The blade wobbled closer.


    “Somebody!” I choked out. “Help her!”


    The mercenary pinning me suddenly jerked back with a choked gasp. His body crumpled — a dagger buried between his ribs.


    More figures appeared from the shadows — cloaked and swift. One leapt between Cassandra and her captor, a blade flashing. Another knocked two mercenaries to the ground with brutal precision.


    I barely understood what I was seeing. These strangers moved like dancers — fluid, efficient, terrifying. The mercenaries broke apart in panic, vanishing into the trees.


    And suddenly, the tide shifted. It was over in seconds.


    Within moments, the ambush was over. Our attackers vanished into the trees, retreating like ghosts.


    And we were left there, gasping, stunned, and utterly defeated.


    I pushed myself onto my knees, my chest heaving. My hands trembled against the dirt. The world spun around me. We lost. We would have died if these strangers hadn’t intervened.


    I looked up.


    Our rescuers stood before us, cloaked figures, their faces covered with masks.


    One of them stepped forward, their voice calm, almost casual. “You are safe now.”


    Zeke coughed. “Who . . . who are you?”


    “Names don’t matter,” the masked figure said. “Only your survival does.”


    “Thank you,” I offered, “for saving us.” I let out a heavy sigh of relief. “We all could have died without your help.”


    Everyone was still in shock, in sheer horror and panic. I could see the girls still shaken. Viktor and Pierre are quiet with what I assumed was disappointment in themselves. Andrew was the only one who appeared calm.


    “We have been watching you. Making sure you get to Andora safely.” One of our cloaked saviors started. “Saving Mysteria is a huge task for children like yourselves. We are happy we could help you.”


    Silence stretched between us.


    I dragged myself to my feet, legs shaking. Around me, the others moved in dazed silence.


    Gabrielle knelt beside Pierre, clutching his arm as she checked his bruises. Her fingers twitched again, as though she still believed she could summon water to soothe the swelling. When nothing happened, she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.


    Amethyst hovered near Zeke, her hands trembling over his scraped forehead. No magic flowed from her fingers. No soft glow of healing light. Her face was pale, her breath shallow.


    “I can’t—” she whispered. “I can’t fix this.”


    “You’re okay,” Zeke muttered weakly, patting her arm. “We’re okay.”


    But we weren’t. Not really.


    Viktor stood off to the side, fists clenched at his sides, glaring at the ground like he was daring it to fight him too. Pierre’s face was blank, but his fingers dug into the dirt as if clinging to something solid would stop him from spiraling.


    Even Kaldi and Dero looked different—still fierce, but winded, their fur slick with sweat. I realized with a jolt that they’d been fighting for us — while we had just flailed like fools.


    I swallowed hard, my chest tight.


    We were supposed to be important. Chosen. Tonight, we’d been nothing but children stumbling in the dark.


    “That’s all?” I asked, still struggling to my feet.


    “That’s all you need to know,” they said simply.


    And that was the end of it.


    They didn’t explain. They didn’t stay. They simply gestured for us to follow.


    So we did.


    ——


    The walk after that was quiet. But this time, it wasn’t just the unnatural stillness of the woods.


    It was us.


    None of us spoke. None of us even looked at each other. We had never felt so small.


    We were supposed to be important. Chosen.


    And yet, tonight, we had been nothing more than helpless fools.


    I clenched my fists, staring down at the ground as we walked. I had thought magic was something beyond myself—something separate. But now, stripped of it, I wasn’t sure if there was anything left of me at all.


    Our saviors seemed more prepared. One of them acted as a porter. He carried a huge bag of supplies. They distributed water and food while we walked, saying something we needed to regain our energy before we arrived.


    They led us through the woods until we reached Andora’s camp. Only that it wasn’t a camp. It was a fucking fortress of stone and iron.


    It loomed out of the trees like a sleeping beast.


    Massive stone walls stretched as far as I could see, their jagged edges rising high enough to scrape the sky. Sharp iron spikes crowned the top, like teeth. Glyphs glowed faintly across the surface—protective wards humming faintly against the emptiness of the Woods.


    A pair of massive iron gates stood at the front, covered in intricate sigils that pulsed with faint blue light. They were ancient symbols—complex and layered—far beyond anything I could read.


    “This . . . this is Andora’s camp?” Zeke muttered, voice tight with disbelief.


    “More like a fortress,” Gabrielle murmured, her eyes wide.


    I couldn’t stop staring. After everything—the fear, the helplessness—this fortress felt like the first safe place we’d seen since arriving in Mysteria.


    I could feel magic here. Not my own, but something woven into the very walls—strong and steady.


    For the first time since entering the Woods, I felt like I could breathe again.


    The gates groaned open, and we stepped inside. The air felt warmer here, safer. Talking animals bustled about the courtyard beyond, some were hauling supplies, other were reinforcing the walls. Even without magic, they moved with purpose, as if expecting an attack at any moment.


    Then, a voice called from above.


    “Well, well,” she drawled, her voice laced with amusement. “Look what the bears dragged in.”


    Andora.