《The Lost Isle》 Chapter 1 It was a truth universally ignored that anything greatly anticipated was sure to go wrong. Traveling to a new world¡ª a fantasy world, at that¡ª was no exception. Julia Meier had envisioned her arrival in Aleria a thousand times. In her mind, it would be dramatic and awe-inspiring¡ª a homecoming. She would step onto the new soil with the certainty of destiny, standing where her father once stood, where he had vanished. There would be a sign, a whisper of his presence in the air¡ª something meaningful. Instead, she landed in a puddle of mud. Her heavy skirts¡ª painstakingly hand-sewn in preparation for the journey¡ª immediately became soaked, dragging her down as her ankle twisted in the heeled boots she¡¯d stubbornly refused to swap for something practical. Her knee slammed into the earth, sending a shock of pain up her leg. ¡°Fuck,¡± she hissed, bracing herself on trembling arms. Rain dripped from her hood onto the back of her neck, sliding down her spine like a cold finger. Behind her, a sharp oof echoed through the clearing as Melissa Ramirez slammed into a tree. ¡°Goddammit,¡± Melissa groaned, shaking out her scraped hands. ¡°This is how we arrive? What happened to the plan?¡± ¡°Annemarie happened,¡± Julia muttered, pushing herself up and blinking away the sting of rain. Brandon Larimer was already moving, ignoring the mud as he knelt over the limp form of Annemarie Bennett. She lay sprawled on the wet hearth, her brown curls tangled with leaves and debris. Blood trickled from a gash at her temple, stark against the pallor of her skin. ¡°She needs help,¡± Brandon said, voice tight with worry. Melissa staggered forward, sliding onto her knees beside him. ¡°Holy shit, Annemarie? Is she breathing? Does she have a pulse?¡± ¡°I think so,¡± Brandon murmured, brushing a damp curl from Annemarie¡¯s forehead. ¡°But she¡¯s out cold. And that thing she did¡ª her eyes were glowing, she was speaking some¡ª some language, and then she just¡ª¡° ¡°¡ªjumped headfirst into the portal,¡± Julia finished, rubbing a hand down her face. ¡°Shit.¡± This was not how this was supposed to go. The plan had been simple. Pack essentials. Step through the portal at dawn. Sell valuables for currency once they arrive. Instead, as Melissa pulled out the tents, Annemarie had collapsed into a trance of some sort. She¡¯d muttered something in a tongue none of them understood, eyes burning with unnatural light. And before anyone could stop her, she had dived into the shimmering threshold, as if pulled by some unseen force. The others had had no choice but to follow. Now, here they were¡ª wet, freezing, and, apparently, concussed. Julia forced herself to focus. She turned her gaze outward, scanning their surroundings. The rain had softened to a misty drizzle, curling around the landscape in thin veils. A small river wound through the clearing, tumbling over mossy rocks into a shallow waterfall. Beyond that, past the stretch of darkened trees, she could just make out the silhouette of Ismay¡¯s Landing¡ª black and tan thatched rooftops peeking from the mist, torchlight flickering against the distant walls. ¡°I can see the town,¡± she announced, tugging her cloak tighter. ¡°Ismay¡¯s Landing is just past the river. I¡¯ll go for help.¡± Brandon exhaled shakily. ¡°Can we move her?¡± Julia hesitated. ¡°I don¡¯t know. If she has a concussion, or a spinal injury¡ª¡° ¡°Then moving her could make it a hundred times worse,¡± Melissa finished grimly. ¡°We¡¯ll stay put until help comes.¡± Julia nodded and turned toward the distant lights of the town. Her heart pounded as she took the first step. This was it. This was what she¡¯d prepared for. Destiny was calling.
By the time Julia reached Ismay¡¯s Landing, her lungs burned from the chilly night air. The mist clung to the streets, thick and damp, curling around the low wooden buildings like creeping fingers. The town was quiet at this hour. Save for the distant murmur of the sea beyond the harbor. She hurried through the muddy streets, boots squelching with every step. The knowledge that every moment wasted put Annemarie in more danger spurred her forward. Don¡¯t think about it. Just find help. Her father had spoken of this place in his journals¡ª mentioned names, friends. That had to count for something. Julia reached the infirmary, a squat building half-buried into the hillside. Lanterns flickered in iron sconces outside, casting long shadows over the stone threshold. She pounded on the door. After a moment, a figure appeared¡ª a person with dark, weathered skin and a sharp, assessing gaze. Their white linen sleeves were rolled up, exposing arms lightly dusted with faint, silvery tattoos that almost shimmered in the lamplight. They looked Julia up and down, unimpressed. ¡°Are you bleeding?¡± they asked dryly. ¡°No,¡± Julia gasped, still catching her breath. ¡°But my friend is. She hit her head and is unconscious. We just¡ª¡° She hesitated, realizing how absurd it all sounded. ¡°We just arrived.¡± The healer¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but something flickered in their eyes. Recognition, maybe. ¡°Your name?¡± ¡°Julia Jahnsdatter Arunsson Meier,¡± she answered quickly. ¡°We need help.¡± That got their attention. ¡°Jahnsdatter,¡± the healer repeated, studying her with renewed interest. ¡°Your father was¡ª¡° ¡°Jahn Arunsson Meier. Yeah. Look, I¡¯ll answer any questions you have later, but my friend is hurt now.¡± Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. That seemed to snap them into motion. ¡°Wait here,¡± they commanded, disappearing inside. Moments later, they reemerged with two younger attendants and a stretcher floating in the air beside them. Julia barely had time to register the magic before they were moving. ¡°I¡¯m Gwri, by the way,¡± the healer said as they walked briskly through the town. ¡°They/them, mind you. Not a healer of magical abnormalities, but I can handle physical things. If you¡¯ve arrived like your father, and something went wrong¡ª¡° ¡°There was weirdness, but we can deal with that later. She just hit her head.¡± Julia glanced at the floating stretcher. ¡°Are you an¡ª¡° ¡°An elementalist, yes. My mother was a nymph. We¡¯re common enough in this town, Traveller.¡± Julia stiffened but didn¡¯t comment. Later. They would have time to argue about labels and technicalities once Annemarie was safe. When they reached the riverbank, the others looked up. Relief flooded Melissa¡¯s face. Brandon was still crouched over Annemarie, his knuckles white where he gripped her hand. ¡°Thank god,¡± Melissa breathed as the attendants lifted Annemarie onto the stretcher. ¡°She¡¯s been¡ª¡° A sudden crack split the air. The smell of ozone filled Julia¡¯s lungs. Annemarie¡¯s eyes snapped open¡ª the same radiant blue glow from before. Her body arched as if a current ran through her veins, and when she spoke it was in a voice not entirely her own. ¡°Ir teith me!¡± Blue light crackled across her skin, pulsing from her fingertips, racing over the ground in jagged bolts. Brandon barely had time to pull back before she lurched upright, back rigid. ¡°Annemarie!¡± he cried. Gwri reacted instantly, spreading their hands in a practiced motion. The stretcher rattled, then stabilized. One of the attendants rushed forward, pressing a hand to Annemarie¡¯s forehead. ¡°Shh,¡± he murmured, voice steady. ¡°It¡¯s alright. Calm yourself.¡± The glow in her eyes flickered, then faded. Annemarie slumped back, her breath slow and even. The blue light dimmed, disappearing entirely. Silence fell. Gwri exhaled. ¡°Well. That¡¯s unexpected.¡± Melissa let out a shaky laugh. ¡°Yeah. No shit.¡± One of the nurses checked Annemarie¡¯s vitals before nodding. ¡°She¡¯s stable. But whatever¡¯s wrong with her¡­ it¡¯s not just a head injury.¡± Gwri nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll take her in. Keep her overnight. See what we can¡¯t figure out.¡± Brandon hesitated before gripping Annemarie¡¯s hand again. ¡°I¡¯m coming with her.¡± Julia expected resistance, but Gwri just shrugged. ¡°Fine. But no panicking. The last thing we need is someone pacing a hole through the floor.¡± Brandon looked too relieved to argue. As they lifted the stretcher, Julia stepped closer to Gwri. ¡°I know you aren¡¯t a magical healer, but what was that?¡± Gwri shook their head. ¡°Something powerful.¡± They glanced at her. ¡°And, I suspect, something very, very rare.¡± Julia swallowed hard. That wasn¡¯t comforting at all.
Melissa sat on the edge of the infirmary cot, fingers curled around a cup of lukewarm tea. She hadn¡¯t taken a sip. The herbal scent clung to her, mixing with the ever-present aroma of incense and something metallic beneath it¡ª medicine, maybe, or the faint, lingering trace of blood. Across the small room, Brandon hovered over Annemarie¡¯s sleeping form, his hand never leaving hers. The candlelight cast flickering shadows over his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw, the tight set of his shoulders. Julia leaned against the wall, arms crossed, exhaustion pressing heavily on her. She hadn¡¯t stopped shaking since they¡¯d gotten here. ¡°She¡¯s just¡­ sleeping now?¡± she asked finally. Brandon didn¡¯t look up. ¡°That¡¯s what Gwri said. She healed herself. The wound is gone.¡± His voice was tight, barely restrained. ¡°But they don¡¯t know why that happened. Or what¡¯s still wrong.¡± Melissa let out a hollow laugh. ¡°Of course they don¡¯t.¡± She set the tea down, untouched. ¡°Because why would this be easy?¡± Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken fears. Julia shifted, uncomfortable. ¡°They said she¡¯s got a hefty amount of magical ability,¡± she murmured. ¡°That¡¯s something, right? We can¡­ figure out what that means.¡± Brandon¡¯s head snapped up. His eyes were dark, furious. ¡°Figure it out?¡± His voice was quiet, but it was the kind of quiet that preceded an explosion. ¡°Figure it out?¡± Melissa stiffened. ¡°Brandon¡ª¡° ¡°You knew this would be dangerous,¡± he said, standing abruptly. His hands curled into fists at his sides. ¡°You knew, and you brought her anyway.¡± Julia forced herself to meet his glare. ¡°She begged to come.¡± ¡°Did she beg to nearly die? Did she beg to get possessed by¡ª by whatever that was?¡± Julia clenched her jaw. ¡°I didn¡¯t make this happen.¡± Brandon let out a sharp, bitter laugh. ¡°No? You dragged us through that portal, Julia. And now look.¡± He gestured at Annemarie¡¯s unconscious form. ¡°She wasn¡¯t in there. Her eyes glowed. She said¡ª whatever it was she said¡ª¡° ¡°Which wasn¡¯t supposed to happen!¡± Julia snapped, voice rising. ¡°None of this was the plan! I prepared for this, Brandon. Alone. I trained for years. I read every word my dad wrote. I knew the risks, or I thought I did. But this¡ª¡° She gestured helplessly toward Annemarie. ¡°This wasn¡¯t part of it!¡± Brandon shook his head, laughing again¡ª short, humorless. ¡°You never think, do you?¡± His voice dropped to something cold. ¡°You never fucking think.¡± Julia sucked in a breath, like she¡¯d been slapped. Melissa stood, stepping between them. ¡°Hey,¡± she said sharply. ¡°Enough.¡± Brandon exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. He turned away. ¡°I¡¯m staying here tonight. Alone.¡± Julia hesitated, then nodded stiffly. ¡°Fine.¡± She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room before he could say anything else.
The night air was cold against Julia¡¯s skin as she stepped outside the infirmary. The mist had thinned, but the streets were still slick with rain, the smell of damp earth thick in the air. Melissa followed, pulling her cloak tighter. ¡°That went well,¡± she muttered. Julia let out a harsh breath, tilting her head back to stare at the cloudy sky. ¡°He¡¯s not wrong,¡± she admitted. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have dragged you all into this.¡± Melissa scoffed. ¡°He¡¯s grieving. He¡¯s scared. Doesn¡¯t mean he gets to take it out on you.¡± Julia didn¡¯t answer. They walked in silence toward the main road. The town was quiet, most windows dark, but further ahead, a lantern glowed behind a wooden sign swaying gently in the breeze: The Hammer¡¯s Respite Melissa snorted. ¡°Is it a blacksmith or an inn?¡± Julia huffed a small, reluctant laugh. ¡°Come on. Let¡¯s see If they¡¯ve got a room.¡± As they stepped inside, the warmth of the tavern wrapped around them. The scent of ale and roasting meat replaced the damp chill of the street, and the low hum of conversation buzzed in the air. Behind the counter, a teenage girl with braided blonde hair wiped down a wooden mug with practiced efficiency. She glanced up, taking them in with sharp, assessing eyes. ¡°You¡¯re new,¡± she said matter-of-factly. ¡°I¡¯m Gunnild.¡± Melissa nodded, tossing her damp cloak over one shoulder. ¡°Yeah. And we need a room.¡± Gunnild tilted her head. ¡°You looking to deal with me, or my parents?¡± Julia caught the hesitation in her voice. ¡°You,¡± she answered immediately. Gunnild smirked. ¡°Good answer. Mama¡¯s passed out out back.¡± She grabbed a key from beneath the counter and tossed it their way. ¡°Second floor, last door on the left. You pay in the morning.¡± Julia caught the key, nodding. ¡°Thanks.¡± They started toward the stairs, but Melissa hesitated. ¡°Hey, uh.¡± She glanced at the bar. ¡°What do you have to drink?¡± Gunnild raised an eyebrow. ¡°You planning to drink yourself stupid, or just a little stupid?¡± Melissa considered this. ¡°Somewhere in between?¡± The girl chuckled, reaching for a bottle. ¡°My kind of customer.¡± Julia rolled her eyes and made her way upstairs. She was very, very done with this night. Chapter 2 Morning came sluggishly, dragging yet another damp mist through the streets of Ismay¡¯s Landing. The sky was a dull gray, the kind that made it impossible to tell what time it was, and the scent of last night¡¯s rain clung to everything¡ª wood, stone, and earth, heavy with the promise of more to come. Melissa woke with a dull headache and an even duller sense of regret. She groaned, rolling onto her side, the thin mattress doing little to cushion the impact. Sunlight¡ª or what passed for it¡ª filtered through the warped wooden shutters, doing its best to stab through her skull. The empty wine bottle on the nightstand taunted her. ¡°Ugh.¡± From across the room, Julia stirred, her face half-buried in a ratty pillow. ¡°Told you,¡± she mumbled, voice thick with sleep. ¡°Told you not to drink the whole bottle.¡± Melissa exhaled through her nose. ¡°It was half a bottle.¡± Julia cracked an eye open. ¡°That¡¯s a goddamn lie.¡± Melissa winced, sitting up slowly. ¡°Fine. Three quarters. Happy?¡± Julia only groaned in response, turning onto her back. ¡°Still a lie. Did you even sleep?¡± Melissa scrubbed a hand over her face. ¡°Tried to. My brain didn¡¯t get the memo.¡± She looked down at her wrinkled tunic and the way her boots were still haphazardly kicked off at the foot of the bed. ¡°Shit. What time is it?¡± Julia stretched, groaning as her back popped. ¡°Morning enough. We should get moving¡ª check on Annemarie.¡± Melissa grunted in acknowledgment, forcing herself to stand. The room swayed slightly, but not enough to warrant concern. ¡°Brandon¡¯s got it for now. Breakfast first,¡± she decided. ¡°And coffee.¡± Julia shot her an unimpressed look. ¡°You get to tell Gunnild we¡¯re paying for last night¡¯s room in trade goods.¡± Melissa waved a dismissive hand. ¡°Yeah, yeah. I¡¯ve got stuff to pawn. I¡¯m not some freeloader.¡± They gathered their things in relative silence, both too drained to bicker much. Julia pulled on her still-damp skirt, buckled her belt, and adjusted the weight of her pack with the practiced efficiency of someone who had planned this trip for years. Melissa, on the other hand, made a half-hearted attempt to smooth out her rumpled clothes before giving up entirely. ¡°Come on,¡± Julia said, shouldering her pack. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with.¡± The Hammer¡¯s Respite was already bustling by the time they descended the stairs. The scent of frying bread and spiced sausage filled the air, cutting through the lingering staleness of ale and old woodsmoke. Gunnild, the teenaged tavern keeper, was behind the counter again, balancing a tray of mugs while exchanging sharp remarks with a patron twice her size. She glanced up as Melissa and Julia approached and smirked. ¡°You look fantastic,¡± she said dryly. Melissa made a rude gesture before slumping onto a stool. ¡°Please tell me you have coffee.¡± Gunnild snorted. ¡°How rich do you think we are? I have tea. And a whole lot of water, which you definitely need.¡± Julia slid onto the stool beside her, placing a small bundle wrapped in cloth onto the counter. ¡°For the room,¡± she said. Gunnild raised an eyebrow, unwrapping the bundle with quick fingers. Inside was a pair of delicate silver earrings and a ring with an inlaid stone¡ª things they had brought from Earth to sell, just as planned. She turned the ring over in her fingers, appraising. ¡°Not bad,¡± she admitted, tucking them away. ¡°That¡¯ll cover the room and some food. You¡¯ll still need coin eventually, though.¡± ¡°Working on it,¡± Julia muttered. Melissa barely registered the exchange, too busy sipping the strong, bitter tea Gunnild set in front of her. She had nearly finished the cup when the tavern door banged open, letting in a gust of cool air¡ª and a flurry of movement. A boy no older than thirteen sprinted inside, face flushed, panting hard. ¡°Gwri says to come now!¡± he blurted, eyes wide as he spotted Julia and Melissa. ¡°Something¡¯s happening to Annemarie!¡± Melissa nearly knocked over her cup in her haste to stand. Julia was already moving, hand instinctively going to her belt. ¡°Go,¡± she told Melissa. ¡°She¡¯s your cousin. I¡¯ll settle things here.¡± Melissa didn¡¯t argue. She was out the door in an instant, heart pounding, ignoring the way her head throbbed with every step. She didn¡¯t stop running.
Melissa skidded into the infirmary, breath coming fast, her pulse thudding in her ears. The scent of incense was stronger now, thick enough to choke, barely masking the metallic tang of medicine and something deeper¡ª something gone bad. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Brandon was already at Annemarie¡¯s bedside, knuckles white where he gripped her hand. His eyes snapped up as Melissa stumbled in, his face pale, tense. ¡°She¡ª¡° His voice caught. He swallowed. ¡°Something¡¯s wrong.¡± Melissa followed his gaze. Annemarie lay deathly still against the infirmary cot, her chest rising and falling in slow, unnatural intervals. Beads of sweat clung to her forehead, dampening her hair. But her skin was pale¡ª too pale, a sickly, almost translucent hue beneath the candlelight. And her lips were moving. Soundless. Restless. Forming words that shouldn¡¯t exist. The air around her shimmered with static. ¡°What the fuck,¡± Melissa breathed. Gwri was beside the cot, fingers hovering over Annemarie¡¯s forehead, eyes narrowed in deep concentration. The healer¡¯s sleeves were rolled up, exposing the silver-threaded tattoos that lined their arms. Magic hummed in the air, barely visible, pulsing faintly beneath their fingertips. ¡°Her magic is settling, but she¡¯s slipping,¡± they muttered. ¡°Somewhere between waking and¡ª¡° They cut off, shaking their head. ¡°I don¡¯t know where.¡± Julia barreled in a second later, slightly out of breath. She took one look at Annemarie and froze. ¡°Shit.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Melissa snapped. ¡°Shit. What do we do?¡± Gwri exhaled sharply. ¡°We wait. We watch. And we don¡¯t touch her. Something is moving through her, and I don¡¯t know what happens if we interrupt.¡± Melissa¡¯s stomach twisted, and it wasn¡¯t the hangover. ¡°Moving through her?¡± Gwri shot her a sharp look. ¡°Do you want me to lie to you?¡± Brandon¡¯s fingers flexed where they lay next to Annemarie¡¯s hand. ¡°Anne,¡± he murmured, voice shaking. ¡°You¡¯re safe, okay? You¡¯re here. Just come back to me.¡± For a moment, nothing changed. Then Annemarie¡¯s back arched, a strangled sound escaping her throat. The room crackled. Her eyes snapped open¡ª glowing, the same eerie blue as before, but brighter, filled with something vast, something old. The candlelight flickered wildly, shadows stretching long across the walls. And then¡ª she spoke. ¡°Ir teith me¡ª e Byfox. E me al¨¢nder, e Tormevi. E Callista.¡± The words hit like a shockwave. The lanterns rattled. The air thickened, pressing down on Melissa¡¯s chest. Gwri swore under their breath, hands moving in a series of quick, intricate gestures. Threads of pale light wove between their fingers, shifting like something alive. ¡°She¡¯s channeling something,¡± they muttered. ¡°A vision. A memory. But Saints¡ª it¡¯s strong¡ª¡° Brandon was shaking. ¡°What does it mean?¡± Gwri didn¡¯t answer. Annemarie gasped. Her body jerked once¡ª violently¡ª before she collapsed back against the cot. Silence slammed into the room. Melissa barely registered that she had stopped breathing until her lungs burned. Annemarie¡¯s eyes fluttered shut. The glow faded. Her breathing slowed. She was still. Brandon let out a broken sound, his forehead dropping to her limp hand. Gwri sat back, exhaling heavily. Their hands were trembling, the magic dissipating like mist. ¡°Saints above,¡± they murmured. Julia, pale and stiff, swallowed hard. ¡°Byfox,¡± she repeated, voice low. ¡°Tormevi. And someone named Callista.¡± Melissa turned sharply to her. ¡°You know what that means?¡± Julia¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°Yeah,¡± she said. ¡°I mean, sort of. But yeah. I do.¡±
The silence in the infirmary was suffocating. Annemarie lay still, her breathing slow but steady, her face damp with sweat. The eerie blue glow that had filled the room only moments ago had faded, leaving behind only the flickering warmth of candlelight. Melissa let out a slow breath, glancing between Julia and Gwri. ¡°So. That was¡­ normal?¡± Gwri shot her a flat look. ¡°No. That was the opposite of normal.¡± They wiped a hand down their face, still visibly rattled. ¡°Most people come into their magic gently. As children. But she¡¯s older, and whatever latent abilities she has must have stagnated in your world. Festered. That was¡­ that was too strong. Even for a Seer.¡± Brandon didn¡¯t look up from where he now gripped Annemarie¡¯s hand. His knuckles were white. ¡°A Seer,¡± he muttered, voice raw. ¡°I don¡¯t know what that means.¡± Gwri exhaled sharply. ¡°I know Seers get visions. I know most of them can control when they happen. This? This was something else.¡± Julia stood near the wall, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her face pinched in thought. ¡°If this was a vision¡­¡± Melissa shot her a look. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Julia hesitated. The words Annemarie had spoken still echoed in her mind, sharp and heavy with meaning she didn¡¯t fully grasp. Ir teith me¡­ e Byfox¡­ e me al¨¢nder e Tormevi¡­ e Callista. She knew one name for certain¡ª Tormevi. The name of Milana¡¯s last ruling house. The name of the woman her father was fighting for when he disappeared. Byfox, though? That was different. Her father had mentioned it maybe once or twice, but she¡¯d never been there. And something about the name prickled at her memory. The realization hit her like a stone dropping into her stomach. ¡°Byfox,¡± she said slowly. ¡°That¡¯s in Milana.¡± Gwri and Brandon both looked up. Melissa frowned. ¡°Okay, but what does that mean?¡± Julia inhaled sharply. ¡°It means it¡¯s probably gone.¡± Brandon tensed. ¡°What?¡± ¡°The Mirrorwood Curse,¡± Julia said, the words thick on her tongue. ¡°It started in Milana, right after the Cleansing of the House of Tormevi. A creeping darkness that¡¯s been swallowing entire cities for the last¡­ thirty years? Moorpond was the first to fall, but if Byfox was taken too¡­¡± she trailed off. Brandon looked down at Annemarie, his face pale. ¡°Then how the hell does she know that? She¡¯s never even been here before.¡± Melissa frowned, rubbing her arms. ¡°And Callista? That¡¯s another name she said, right?¡± Julia nodded. ¡°Maybe she¡¯s from there? Or has something to do with it?¡± Gwri leaned back, arms crossed, eyes dark with thought. ¡°Byfox fell two years ago, but before then, there was a massacre. The entire Nazenne family was murdered.¡± Melissa made a frustrated sound. ¡°So, what do we do? Just wait for the next freaky glowing episode and hope we get another cryptic message?¡± Gwri¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°No. We¡¯ll figure it out.¡± Julia glanced at Annemarie¡¯s sleeping form, her stomach twisting. Something was deeply, seriously wrong. And she had the sinking feeling this was only the beginning. Chapter 3 Annemarie woke up to the scent of incense and damp stone, the dim glow of candlelight flickering against the infirmary walls. For a long moment, she just lay there, staring at the ceiling, her mind foggy with half-remembered dreams¡ª no, not dreams. Something else. Something bigger. The last thing she remembered clearly was stepping through the portal, a strange pull in her chest, the sudden weightlessness of falling¡ª And then, nothing. She blinked, shifting slightly. A hand tightened around hers. ¡°Anne?¡± Brandon. His voice was hoarse, heavy with exhaustion. Annemarie turned her head. He was sitting beside her cot, eyes shadowed with worry, his hair a mess. ¡°Hey,¡± she murmured, her voice scratchy. ¡°You look like hell.¡± He let out a shaky laugh, relief flooding his expression. ¡°I look like hell? You¡¯re the one who went full Exorcist last night.¡± Annemarie frowned. ¡°What?¡± Before Brandon could answer, the door creaked open. Melissa stepped inside, looking equally exhausted. Her eyes widened when she saw Annemarie awake. ¡°Oh, thank God.¡± Julia followed behind her, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. ¡°How do you feel?¡± Annemarie hesitated, then did a quick internal assessment. ¡°Uh¡­ fine? Maybe a little achy?¡± She sat up slowly, testing her limbs, waiting for some hidden injury to make itself known¡ª but there was nothing. ¡°Better than I should, I guess?¡± Brandon exchanged a glance with Julia. ¡°Anne, you¡ª¡° He hesitated. ¡°Something happened to you last night.¡± Annemarie furrowed her brow. ¡°Yeah, I figured. Considering I don¡¯t really remember anything after the portal.¡± Melissa crossed her arms. ¡°Well, you kinda¡­ went all glowy eyes and started speaking in tongues. Cured your head injury with magic, all by yourself.¡± Annemarie blinked. ¡°Oh.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Brandon repeated incredulously. ¡°That¡¯s all you have to say?¡± Annemarie rubbed her forehead, trying to process. ¡°I mean, I don¡¯t feel possessed, if that helps?¡± Melissa snorted. ¡°That¡¯s super reassuring.¡± Julia exhaled sharply. ¡°Look, we don¡¯t know what that was, and we don¡¯t have time to sit here and analyze it. Gwri¡ª the healer, Annemarie, you might not remember them¡ª they said it was your magic settling in, and I¡¯m going to take it as it is. We should stick to the plan.¡± Brandon frowned. ¡°The plan.¡± ¡°We go to the keep, talk to Musia and Beryon. Melissa and I get information, you guys get a house. At this point, with the entrance we made, they¡¯re probably expecting us.¡± Melissa perked up slightly. ¡°Right. That makes sense.¡± Annemarie glanced between them, still trying to shake the lingering unease. ¡°Who are Musia and Beryon again?" Julia sighed, already slinging her pack over her shoulder. ¡°Old friends of my father. They¡¯ll have answers¡ª or at least, a direction to point us in.¡± Brandon hesitated, looking back at Annemarie. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re okay? Fine to get moving?¡± Annemarie squared her shoulders. ¡°I¡¯m not going to lie down and act like a victim. My magic settled. I¡¯ll figure out what that means later.¡± She swung her legs over the side of the cot, testing her balance. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± Melissa gave her a skeptical look. ¡°Right. Well, if you do decide to pass out again, please give us some warning, first.¡± Annemarie smirked. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best.¡± Julia rolled her eyes and headed for the door. ¡°Come on. We¡¯re wasting daylight.¡± With that, they left the infirmary, stepping out into the misty morning air.
The walk to the keep was quiet. The morning mist still clung to the streets of Ismay¡¯s Landing, wrapping around rooftops and softening the edges of the world. It smelled of damp stone and salt from the nearby sea, the air crisp and cool in a way that made Annemarie¡¯s skin prickle. She kept glancing at the others, half-expecting them to keep looking at her like she was going to start floating or speaking in tongues again. But if they had those concerns, they weren¡¯t saying anything. She appreciated that. Instead, Julia walked ahead, leading them through the winding streets with the surety of someone who¡¯d spent years studying maps and names and stories of a place she¡¯d never set foot in before now. Annemarie exhaled, falling into step beside Melissa. ¡°So, this place¡ª Musia and Beryon¡ª they¡¯re important?¡± Melissa shrugged. ¡°According to Julia? Yeah.¡± ¡°They were my father¡¯s friends,¡± Julia said over her shoulder. ¡°Part of the group that helped Queen Kiernen after the Cleansing of the House of Tormevi.¡± If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Annemarie frowned. ¡°And now they just¡­ run this place?¡± ¡°More or less,¡± Julia said. ¡°Musia handles the military training here. Beryon takes care of the civilians. Together, they keep Ismay¡¯s Landing running.¡± They passed through the marketplace, where vendors were just beginning to set up their stalls. The air was thick with the scent of baking bread, woodsmoke, and the faintest trace of something floral drifting from a nearby apothecary. Brandon, quiet for most of the walk, finally spoke. ¡°And you think they¡¯ll help us?¡± ¡°They should,¡± Julia said. ¡°They knew my father. They might have information. And if nothing else, they can help us figure out our next steps.¡± Annemarie wasn¡¯t sure why, but something about this whole situation made her uneasy. Maybe it was the lingering static beneath her skin, the feeling that something inside her had shifted and she didn¡¯t know how to fix it. Or if it even needed fixing. Or maybe it was just the fact that, in the span of a day, her entire world had changed. No big deal. Totally normal. The keep loomed ahead, its stone walls dark with age, banners snapping in the cool morning breeze. It wasn¡¯t particularly large¡ª certainly not a castle¡ª but it was imposing, standing at the highest point of Ismay¡¯s Landing, overlooking the town below. As they approached the heavy wooden doors, two guards stepped forward, their hands resting on their weapons. ¡°State your business.¡± Julia squared her shoulders. ¡°We¡¯re here to see Musia and Beryon. Tell them Julia Meier has arrived.¡± One of the guards raised an eyebrow. ¡°Meier? Jahnsdatter?¡± He studied her, skepticism flickering in his eyes. Julia nodded, her posture unwavering. The guards exchanged a glance before one turned toward the doors, pushing them open. ¡°Wait here,¡± he instructed, before disappearing inside. The group lingered in the entryway, shifting on their feet. Melissa turned toward Annemarie, voice low. ¡°Well, this is fun.¡± Annemarie huffed a quiet laugh. ¡°Yeah. Real warm welcome.¡± The doors creaked open again, and the guard reappeared, giving Julia one last scrutinizing look before stepping aside. ¡°They¡¯ll see you.¡± Julia didn¡¯t hesitate. With a last glance at the others, she stepped forward into the keep. Annemarie followed, heart pounding in her chest.
The keep¡¯s main hall was spacious but worn, its stone walls bearing the marks of years of use¡ª scratches along the wooden beams, faded banners hanging above the hearth, scuff marks on the flagstone floor. It wasn¡¯t grand, but it was sturdy, and it smelled of parchment, ink, and the faint scent of metal polish. Musia and Beryon sat at the long table in the center of the room. Musia, a broad-shouldered woman with graying auburn hair, leaned forward with her elbows braced on the table, her sharp eyes appraising the newcomers. Beryon, leaner and softer in presence, regarded them with quiet interest, his hands folded before him. Julia didn¡¯t wait for formalities, pulling out a chair across from the pair and plopping into it. ¡°We need help.¡± Musia snorted. ¡°Figured as much. You wouldn¡¯t have come here otherwise.¡± Beryon smiled, though his gaze was just as assessing. ¡°Let¡¯s start with the basics. You¡¯re Jahn¡¯s daughter.¡± Julia nodded. ¡°Julia Meier. And this is Melissa Ramirez, Annemarie Bennett, and Brandon Larimer. They¡¯re all from Earth.¡± Beryon¡¯s eyes flickered with recognition, but Musia¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. ¡°Right. And why exactly are you here?¡± Julia took a deep breath. ¡°My father disappeared twelve years ago. I know the last place he was sent was Lyn Iddal, in the Empire of Lashaar.¡± Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. ¡°I need to know what happened to him. And if he was murdered, I need to find out who did it.¡± Melissa nodded beside her. ¡°I¡¯m here to hold while she punches.¡± Beryon leaned back slightly, exchanging a glance with Musia. The older woman exhaled through her nose. ¡°Well. That¡¯s a hell of a task you¡¯re setting for yourselves.¡± Julia clenched her jaw. ¡°I didn¡¯t come here to sit still.¡± Musia tilted her head. ¡°No, I imagine you didn¡¯t.¡± She drummed her fingers against the tabletop, considering. ¡°You want answers, and you want a plan. Good. Then here¡¯s what I suggest¡ª you go to Atriane. Kiernen Tormevi is there. If anyone can point you in the right direction, it¡¯s her.¡± Julia frowned. ¡°Just like that? How the hell am I supposed to get an audience?¡± Musia shrugged. ¡°She¡¯ll want to see you. And you were going to have to make the trip eventually. Conveniently, a group of soldiers are heading to Di¡¯raz in the next few days. That¡¯s already halfway to Atriane. They¡¯re taking a civilian along already¡ª two more shouldn¡¯t make a difference.¡± Julia crossed her arms, weighing the plan. It made sense. Atriane was where Kiernen was gathering her strength, consolidating what was left of Milana¡¯s power. If there were resources to be had, allies to be found, information to be uncovered, they¡¯d be there. Melissa looked at her. ¡°That works for me.¡± Julia nodded. ¡°Alright¡ª we¡¯ll go to Atriane.¡± Musia leaned back, satisfied. ¡°Good. Then that¡¯s settled.¡± Beryon turned to Annemarie and Brandon. ¡°And what about you two? Annemarie, are you feeling better?¡± Annemarie flinched, suddenly feeling the weight of all eyes on her. She glanced at Brandon before straightening her shoulders. ¡°We¡­ we wanted to move here. Settle somewhere we can have a family.¡± Beryon smiled. ¡°Ismay¡¯s Landing isn¡¯t a bad place to stay. And, as it happens, there¡¯s an empty house on the north side of town, near the carpenter¡¯s yard. It¡¯ll need some repairs, but it¡¯s livable. You can stay there until you decide whether to build something of your own.¡± Brandon¡¯s eyes lit up, and Annemarie could feel his excitement beside her. He loved a project¡ª loved the idea of building something with his own hands. ¡°That sounds perfect,¡± he said, unable to keep the eagerness from his voice. Annemarie gave him a small smile. She wasn¡¯t completely sure about staying in Aleria forever, but for now? It felt like the right decision. Beryon nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll take you to see it later today.¡± For the moment, there was a sense of stability¡ª of plans falling into place. Then Musia¡¯s gaze flicked to Annemarie, sharp and thoughtful. ¡°But before we all get too comfortable,¡± she said, ¡°there¡¯s still the matter of whatever the hell happened to you last night.¡± The warmth of the moment drained from Annemarie¡¯s chest. Silence hung heavy in the air. ¡°She spoke in a language none of us understood,¡± Melissa said, breaking the tension. ¡°Except Julia recognized the name Tormevi, and Byfox was probably¡ª what did you say?¡ª swallowed by the Mirrorwood Curse?¡± Beryon¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Byfox fell two years ago.¡± Julia¡¯s mouth pressed into a tight line. ¡°She shouldn¡¯t have been able to know about it. I don¡¯t think I ever even mentioned Byfox to them.¡± Annemarie swallowed. She felt fine now¡ª aside from the lingering unease in her bones, like an itch beneath her skin she couldn¡¯t quite scratch. Musia exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down her face. ¡°Seers usually get cryptic visions, but that? Gwri told me exactly what happened, and that seemed too violent to be normal.¡± Brandon¡¯s grip on Annemarie¡¯s hand tightened slightly. ¡°So what does that mean?¡± Musia studied Annemarie for a long moment before shaking her head. ¡°With luck, it was just her body adjusting to the magic. But if it happens again, we need to be ready.¡± Annemarie tried to ignore the way her stomach twisted at the thought. She had a sinking feeling that this¡ª whatever had happened to her¡ª was far from over. Chapter 4 The marketplace was livelier than it had been that morning, the mist having lifted to reveal bustling stalls and the steady hum of trade. The air smelled of fresh bread, roasting meat, and a hint of sea air. Melissa stretched, rolling out her shoulders. ¡°Alright. Shopping time?¡± Julia glanced at the list in her hands, mentally calculating how much they could afford. ¡°We should start by selling the jewelry. Then we¡¯ll get supplies and head to the stables.¡± Melissa nodded. ¡°Lead the way, fearless leader.¡± They made their way through the rows of stalls until they found a jeweler tucked between a cloth merchant and a weaponsmith. The shop was small but well-kept, the counter gleaming with polished silver and gold trinkets. The shopkeeper, a wiry man with a sharp gaze, appraised their offerings carefully. Julia handed over a pair of earrings and a silver ring they had brought from Earth. The jeweler held them up to the light, humming thoughtfully. ¡°Fine craftsmanship,¡± he finally admitted, running his fingers over the ring¡¯s inlaid tone. ¡°Where did you get these?¡± Julia didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°Family heirlooms.¡± The jeweler gave her a suspicious look but didn¡¯t press. ¡°I can give you two gold pieces for the lot.¡± Melissa scoffed. ¡°Two? You and I both know they¡¯re worth at least four.¡± He smiled thinly. ¡°Three, and I¡¯m being generous.¡± Julia considered for a moment before nodding. ¡°Three gold, and we¡¯ll take it.¡± Coin exchanged hands, and after a few more stalls, they had their money. With their new funds, they stocked up on supplies¡ª bedrolls, dried food, extra waterskins, and a small cooking pot. They still had a small fortune by the time they reached the stables, and Julia was feeling relatively satisfied. They had everything needed for the journey ahead¡ª finally, something was going smoothly. The thought was immediately shattered with the sight of far too many legs dropping from the rafters above. Julia didn¡¯t even have time to react before something large and fuzzy tackled her to the ground. ¡°AUGH!¡± She flailed, trying to shake whatever it was off of her, but only succeeded in coming face-to-face with it. The creature¡ª a massive spider, it¡¯s body covered in thick black fur with light brown markings¡ª clung to her tunic, its many beady eyes blinking curiously. ¡°Melissa!¡± Julia shrieked. ¡°Help!¡± Melissa, to Julia¡¯s continued horror, was grinning. ¡°Oh my God,¡± she breathed, eyes shining. ¡°Look at him!¡± ¡°GET HIM OFF OF ME!¡± Melissa reached out and¡ª technically helping Julia¡ª gently scooped the spider into her arms like a puppy. ¡°Who¡¯s a good boy?¡± she cooed. ¡°You are! Yes, you are!¡± Julia stared, aghast. ¡°Melissa, that thing just tried to kill me.¡± Melissa snorted. ¡°He did not! He just wanted to say hello.¡± She held the spider up to her face, grinning. ¡°I¡¯m naming him Gorgoloth Bigofars. Get it? And he can go by Gorgoloth for short.¡± Julia made an utterly disgusted noise. ¡°We are not bringing that thing with us.¡± Melissa turned to the stablemaster, who had been watching the entire exchange with an expression of mild amusement. ¡°How much for him?¡± Julia gaped. ¡°You are not seriously buying a spider!¡± The stablemaster chuckled. ¡°Normally, he eats the rats in the hayloft, but if you want to take him? Five silver.¡± Melissa slapped the coins into the man¡¯s hand before Julia could protest. Julia groaned into her hands. ¡°Why are you like this?¡± Melissa grinned, cradling the giant spider like a prized pet. ¡°He loves me, Julia. You wouldn¡¯t understand.¡± ¡°I hope he eats your face in your sleep.¡± ¡°That would make sense. I just know he has a very refined palate.¡± The stablemaster cleared his throat, clearly very entertained. ¡°You came primarily for horses, did you not?¡± Julia reluctantly switched focus, rubbing her temples. ¡°One horse,¡± she corrected. ¡°We did not come all the way to Al¡ª Ismay¡¯s Landing for arachnid adoption.¡± The stablemaster led them to a row of stalls, where several horses shifted in their pens. Julia took her time appraising them, scanning for strong legs, alert eyes, and steady temperaments. Eventually, she settled on a powerful dark bay gelding with a white blaze down his nose. ¡°That one,¡± she said, nodding. Melissa leaned in, scratching Gorgoloth¡¯s head aimlessly. ¡°Can he have a stupid name, too?¡± Julia scowled at her before patting the horse¡¯s neck. ¡°His name is Bucephalus. Melissa rolled her eyes. ¡°Of course it is.¡± The stablemaster named his price¡ª four gold, with tack included¡ª and Julia handed over the coins. As they left the stables, Julia leading Bucephalus and Gorgoloth riding on Melissa¡¯s back, Julia sighed deeply and looked at the sky. ¡°Why,¡± she muttered to herself, ¡°is this my life?¡±
Beryon led Annemarie and Brandon through the winding streets of Ismay¡¯s Landing, his stride steady and unhurried. The town felt different in the afternoon light¡ª livelier, the smell of baking bread and damp wood mingling in the air. Children ran through the narrow alleyways, and traders hawked their wares in the market square. It wasn¡¯t home, not yet, but it felt¡­ real. Settled. Like a place people could build a life. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Brandon had barely stopped grinning since Beryon mentioned the empty cottage. Annemarie, for her part, wasn¡¯t opposed to staying in Ismay¡¯s Landing¡ª far from it. She just wasn¡¯t sure what that meant yet. ¡°You¡¯ll like this place,¡± Beryon said, glancing at them with an easy smile. ¡°Been empty awhile, but it¡¯s got good bones. It¡¯s close enough to the main square that you won¡¯t feel isolated, but far enough out that you¡¯ll have privacy. Perfect for a fresh start.¡± They passed through a quieter part of town, where the houses were smaller but sturdier, set between gardens and winding stone paths. The cottage itself sat at the end of a narrow road, nestled against the curve of a hill. It was made of rough-cut stone, its wooden shutters a little warped with age, its thatched roof in need of some repair¡ª but it stood, solid and waiting. Brandon exhaled, eyes scanning every inch of it. ¡°This is perfect.¡± Annemarie raised an eyebrow. ¡°You haven¡¯t even seen inside yet.¡± Beryon chuckled and pushed open the heavy wooden door, letting them step inside first. The air inside was cool and slightly musty, dust lingering in the sunlight that streamed through the front window. The cottage was small¡ª one main room with a hearth, a worn wooden table, and a few shelves along the far wall. There was a small alcove for sleeping, partitioned off by a curtain, and a doorway leading to a cramped storage space. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was theirs. Brandon ran a hand along the edge of the table, eyes alight with excitement. ¡°I can fix this.¡± He turned, scanning the walls, the ceiling beams, already making a list of repairs in his head. ¡°We can fix this.¡± Annemarie crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. ¡°You really want to do this? Brandon turned to her, expression softening. ¡°Don¡¯t you?¡± She hesitated. She had imagined a quiet life, somewhere peaceful, where they could just be without the weight of expectations or student loans or looming danger. She had wanted something like this. But after last night¡ª after the glowing eyes, the cryptic words, the feeling of something too big stirring inside her¡ª was that even possible?¡± Beryon, perceptive as ever, spoke up. ¡°Nothing¡¯s permanent, you know. This house¡¯s former residents picked up and left for Emin. You stay as long as you want¡ª if it doesn¡¯t work out, there¡¯s always somewhere else to go.¡± Annemarie looked at Brandon. His eyes were full of hope. Maybe they could have this. She exhaled, rolling her shoulders. ¡°Alright,¡± she said finally. ¡°Let¡¯s do it.¡± Brandon grinned. ¡°Yeah?¡± She smirked. ¡°Yeah.¡± He pulled her into a one-armed hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead before letting go. Beryon clapped a hand on Brandon¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Good. I¡¯ll help you get sorted with supplies. There¡¯s plenty of work to be done, but this? This is yours, now.¡± Brandon turned back to the cottage, eyes bright. For the first time since arriving in Aleria, something felt certain.
The Hammer¡¯s Respite was livelier than it had been that morning, the low murmur of conversation replaced with bursts of laughter and the clatter of tankards against wooden tables. The air was thick with the scent of roasting meat, spiced cider, and the ever-present tang of ale-soaked wood. Julia and Melissa stepped outside brushing off the evening chill. Julia sighed, already bracing herself for whatever ridiculous thing Melissa would say this time. The massive spider riding her back wasn¡¯t helping. Sure enough, heads turned. ¡°What in the ever-loving fuck is that?¡± Melissa grinned shouldering Gorgoloth. ¡°This? This is our sweet baby boy.¡± The voice came from a nearby table, where four figures sat: three men and a woman, all dressed in worn but well-kept traveling gear, the telltale look of soldiers about them. The man who had spoken¡ª a broad-shouldered fellow with auburn curls and an easy grin¡ª leaned forward, eyebrows raised in blatant amusement. The man beside him, lighter-built with sharp features and curly black hair, stared at the spider with open horror. ¡°Melissa,¡± Julia muttered. ¡°Take him outside.¡± Melissa snorted. ¡°Gorgoloth goes where I go.¡± ¡°God help us all,¡± Julia muttered, dragging a chair out and sitting down. Gunnild appeared beside them, hands full of tankards, and grinned. ¡°Ladies. I heard you¡¯re heading to Di¡¯raz¡ª these are your travel companions. Rupert, Alina, and Tevon.¡± She gestured to the broad-shouldered man, the flame-haired woman with the same sharp blue eyes, and the thin, blonde man beside Alina. ¡°And that¡¯s Rickon, Rupert¡¯s boyfriend.¡± Rickon¡ª the man with the dark hair¡ª was still staring at the spider. ¡°Rupert,¡± he said, voice carefully neutral. ¡°If you bring that thing into our house, I will leave you.¡± Rupert, delighted, turned back to Melissa. ¡°How much do you want for him?¡± ¡°He¡¯s not for sale,¡± Melissa gasped, clutching Gorgoloth protectively. The spider chittered, seeming to agree. Julia dropped her head into her hands. ¡°Saints above.¡± Alina, Rupert¡¯s twin, smirked. ¡°You are aware that giant spiders aren¡¯t exactly known for being good pets, right?¡± Melissa scoffed. ¡°And you¡¯ve given them a chance? Where we¡¯re from, plenty of people keep monkeys or pigs. They¡¯re a lot of work, but people love them.¡± Tevon, who had been mostly silent up until now, took a long sip of his drink. Without looking up, he said, ¡°I respect the chaos of this decision.¡± Gunnild snorted, setting the tankards down. ¡°You lot are going to get along just fine.¡± Julia sighed, eyeing the drinks. ¡°Fine might be a stretch. Rupert grinned, lifting his tankard to Julia in a mock-toast. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡ª seems like we¡¯re off to a great start.¡± Melissa beamed. ¡°See? He gets it!¡± Rickon muttered something about finding a new boyfriend and ordered another drink. Julia sighed, rubbing her temples as Rupert and Melissa continued their negotiation over Gorgoloth. The giant spider had taken it upon himself to crawl onto Rupert¡¯s shoulder, his many eyes blinking lazily at the surrounding tavern patrons, most of whom were trying very hard to pretend they weren¡¯t watching. Alina, sipping at her drink, smirked. ¡°I give it two weeks before you regret this decision.¡± Melissa scoffed. ¡°You underestimate my commitment to the bit. And to Gorgoloth, of course.¡± Tevon, who had been quietly observing the exchange, finally looked up. ¡°It is a bold bit,¡± he admitted. ¡°One that may end up with someone being eaten.¡± ¡°Not if I feed him properly!¡± Melissa shot back. Julia turned to Rickon, who had not stopped eyeing the spider warily. ¡°So,¡± she said, hoping to redirect the conversation. ¡°You¡¯re not coming with us to Di¡¯raz?¡± Rickon finally peeled his gaze away from Gorgoloth. ¡°No,¡± he said, shaking his head. ¡°Rupert, Alina, and Tevon will be gone six months, and the baby¡¯s due a month after they get back. There¡¯s too much to do.¡± Melissa blinked, momentarily distracted from her argument with Rupert. ¡°Wait. Baby?¡± Rupert grinned. ¡°Surrogate.¡± Julia raised an eyebrow. ¡°And you¡¯re just casually dropping that in the middle of a tavern conversation? Congratulations!¡± Rupert shrugged. ¡°You two are coming with us to Di¡¯raz, right? You may as well know. But thanks.¡± Tevon made a noncommittal noise. ¡°We should probably talk logistics at some point. We¡¯ll be heading out in three days.¡± ¡°We can fend for ourselves,¡± Melissa asserted. ¡°No worries.¡± Gunnild, who had returned with another round of drinks, nudged Julia as she set them down. ¡°Oh, and you¡¯ve got another travel companion,¡± she said. ¡°Orri.¡± Melissa perked up. ¡°Who?¡± ¡°The bard,¡± Gunnild said, nodding toward a lanky, dark-haired boy who was currently playing a lively tune near the fireplace. When he caught sight of them looking, he gave a small wave before returning to his playing. ¡°My man,¡± she finished with a sigh. ¡°Sixteen and off to bard school,¡± Rupert mused. ¡°Ambitious.¡± Melissa took a sip of her drink, then leaned back in her chair. She grinned. ¡°Sounds like we¡¯ve got quite a party.¡± Alina raised her glass. ¡°To impending chaos.¡± Rupert clinked his tankard against hers. ¡°To impending chaos.¡± Julia sighed again, but smiled. ¡°Saints help us all.¡± As the night wore on, the tension of the last day slowly bled away. The fire crackled in the hearth, the ale flowed freely, and¡ª for the first time since arriving in Aleria¡ª Julia let herself laugh. Chapter 5 The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and woodsmoke as Julia and Melissa made their way through the quiet streets of Ismay¡¯s Landing. The revelry of the previous night still clung to them¡ª Melissa was, once again, nursing a mild hangover, and Julia¡¯s tolerance for nonsense was at an all-time low¡ª but the day¡¯s task was important. They needed weapons. The weaponsmith¡¯s forge was near the market square, its presence announced well before they arrived by the steady clang of hammer on metal. The heat from the forge rolled out in waves as they stepped inside, the scent of burning coal and hot steel filling their lungs. Behind the counter, a stocky woman with short-cropped hair and arms like tree trunks glanced up, wiping soot from her sweaty brow. ¡°Looking to buy, trade, or just stare?¡± she asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Buy,¡± Julia said. ¡°We need weapons.¡± The weaponsmith smirked. ¡°Dangerous business you in?¡± ¡°Hopefully,¡± Melissa muttered, already scanning the displayed weapons. Julia ignored her. ¡°We need something practical. Two sets of daggers and¡ª¡° she paused, looking at Melissa, ¡°¡ªa bow.¡± Melissa grinned, already reaching for one of the bows on display. She tested the weight, drawing the string back experimentally before nodding in approval. ¡°This one.¡± The weaponsmith studied her. ¡°You actually know how to use that, or are you just hoping for the best?¡± Melissa rolled her shoulders. ¡°I¡¯ve had my share of lessons. Figured, once upon a time, I should know how to kill things from a distance.¡± The weaponsmith chuckled. ¡°Smart.¡± Melissa picked up a dagger next, twirling it between her fingers. She tested the weight in her palm, then flicked it forward in a quick, efficient motion, stopping just short of an actual throw. ¡°But these?¡± she mused. ¡°These feel right.¡± Julia wasn¡¯t surprised. Melissa had always had a sort of restless, simmering energy to her¡ª anger and gay audacity, as she put it¡ª and it showed in the way she handled a blade. Julia, of course, was more methodical. She tested each dagger carefully, weighing balance, grip, and edge sharpness. She had spent years fencing, practicing archery, martial arts¡ª but swords were expensive as hell, and she wasn¡¯t about to blow all their money on a weapon she couldn¡¯t afford to replace. Daggers would do just fine. By the time they finished, they were lighter in coin but significantly better armed. Both of them had at least six knives, Julia had found a crossbow she liked, and Melissa had unstrung the shortbow for safer travel. She smirked at Julia, twirling one of her new daggers. ¡°So when do I get to stab something?¡± Julia sighed. ¡°Please don¡¯t start something before we even leave town.¡± ¡°I make no promises, my friend. No promises.¡±
The morning¡¯s ride was peaceful, the steady rhythm of hoofbeats carrying them away from Ismay¡¯s Landing and into the rolling hills of Lolinglas. The road was well-worn but mostly clear, winding through stretches of green fields and dense clusters of trees that whispered in the breeze. Melissa and Julia shared a saddle, Melissa seated behind, her arms wrapped loosely around Julia¡¯s waist. Gorgoloth, as always, clung to her back. ¡°I hate this,¡± she muttered after a few hours of travel, shifting uncomfortably. Julia smirked. ¡°What, being on a horse? Or being this close to me?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Melissa grumbled, adjusting her grip. Ahead of them, Rupert chuckled, glancing back from his own horse. ¡°You get used to it. After a few days, at least. Tonight and tomorrow will be hellish.¡± ¡°You get used to it,¡± Melissa shot back. ¡°I prefer my feet on solid ground.¡± ¡°Good luck with that,¡± Alina said dryly. ¡°We¡¯ve a long way to go, and if you want to walk it¡¯ll be an experience trying to keep up.¡± Tevon, bringing up the rear, didn¡¯t bother to comment, too busy humming a low tune to himself as he rode. Orri, Gunnild¡¯s teenage boyfriend, rode in front of him, clutching his lute like it was the only thing keeping him from falling off. It wasn¡¯t until early afternoon, with the sun hanging high and warm overhead, that they came across the ruined monument. It was carved into the side of the rock face, worn and weathered but still unmistakably deliberate. The remnants of figures and inscriptions were etched into the stone, their features long since eroded by time and neglect. The gaping mouth of a cave loomed nearby, dark and uninviting. Rupert pulled up his horse, nodding toward the ruins. ¡°That¡¯s a piece of history, that is.¡± Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Julia was already scanning the carvings with interest. ¡°I wonder what it means.¡± Orri perked up at that. ¡°My family¡¯s been in Lolinglas for generations. I don¡¯t know what the exact meaning is, but well.¡± He folded his arms. ¡°Lolinglas was part of Milana for a long time. A semi-independent duchy since the beginning of the Tormevi dynasty. This is almost certainly older than that.¡± ¡°Do you know what this area was like before the Tormevis?¡± Julia asked. ¡°Nah. Not many people do. There were warlords and clans, though, and a lot of raiding.¡± Orri shrugged. ¡°Maybe this commemorates one of them?¡± ¡°And now Milana¡¯s just¡­ part of Iona, right?¡± Melissa asked. ¡°And being eaten alive by the Mirrorwood Curse?¡± ¡°Not all of it,¡± Orri said. ¡°But a lot. The Mirrorwood is a big forest. Moorpond was the first city to fall to it¡ª a lot of people were trapped in the chaos. Byfox was worse.¡± Rupert dismounted, ran a hand over one of the carvings. ¡°Lot of ghosts in those lands,¡± he said thoughtfully. ¡°Horrible stories from those who¡¯ve been to the edges. You couldn¡¯t pay me to visit.¡± Before anyone could respond, a low rumble of thunder rolled through the sky. Tevon looked up, frowning. ¡°That came in fast.¡± Orri sighed. ¡°Oh good. Rain. Just what I wanted.¡± Alina nudged her horse forward. ¡°We should find shelter. It¡¯s almost time to camp, anyway.¡± Melissa turned toward the cave entrance, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Seems like the best option.¡± Julia hesitated. She didn¡¯t love the idea of wandering into an unknown cave, but the storm was moving in fast. The wind was picking up, rustling the trees, and a new chill hung in the air. Rupert was already leading his horse toward the entrance. ¡°It beats getting soaked.¡± Another crack of thunder sealed their decision. With little other choice, they led their horses into the shadow of the ruins, seeking refuge within the monument¡¯s dark embrace.
The storm howled outside, wind and rain lashing against the monument¡¯s stone walls. Inside the cavernous space, the flickering light of their torches cast long, uncertain shadows. The air smelled of damp earth and old stone, thick with the weight of centuries. Melissa adjusted her grip on her dagger, eyes flicking around the space. ¡°So, this isn¡¯t creepy at all.¡± Orri snorted, unfastening his cloak and wringing some of the rainwater from it. ¡°It¡¯s just a ruin.¡± ¡°For now,¡± Tevon muttered. The first sign that something was wrong came as a sound¡ª a slow, deliberate scraping against the stone. Julia stiffened. ¡°Did you hear that?¡± Another scrape. Closer this time. Rupert¡¯s hand went instinctively to his sword. ¡°We¡¯re not alone.¡± Then, from the darkness beyond their torchlight, something moved. A figure lunged, half-seen in the firelight¡ª thin but strong, moving with inhuman speed, eyes glinting, ears pointed. An elf. The feral elf let out a raspy yell, long-nailed fingers grasping a wicked-looking knife, reaching for the closest target¡ª Melissa. ¡°Shit!¡± Melissa barely twisted away in time, her dagger flashing as she struck out in defense. Rupert was already moving, blade singing as he swung at their attacker. The elf dodged, movements jerky but quick. They spoke in a language none of them recognized, their voice raw and furious. A survivor. An outcast. A lone hunter. Julia, heart hammering, recognized the signs now¡ª a warped soul, someone who¡¯d been alone too long, their mind twisted by isolation and desperation. The elf snarled, raising a hand. Magic crackled¡ª a spell, unfinished¡ª Melissa¡¯s dagger struck first. The elf jerked, their breath hitching. Their mouth opened, but no words came out. Then, before anyone could react, the body began to crumble¡ª their skin cracking like dried earth, splintering apart into a cloud of dust and dying magic. Silence. Melissa wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. ¡°What the fuck was that?¡± ¡°A problem we don¡¯t have anymore,¡± Alina muttered, sheathing her blade. Julia exhaled sharply, forcing her heartbeat to slow. ¡°It¡¯s over.¡± Orri had moved to retrieve his dropped lute when he froze. Because standing at the edge of the torchlight was a child. A small figure, wrapped in patchy, ill-fitting clothes, clutching a woven doll tightly in one hand. Their eyes¡ª large, wide, and deeply unsettling in their familiarity¡ª were fixed on the spot where the elf had fallen. They swallowed. Then, in a small, quiet voice, they asked: ¡°Baba?¡± The dust hadn¡¯t even settled. Melissa¡¯s stomach dropped. ¡°Oh, shit.¡± Julia felt sick. The child stepped forward uncertainly, hugging the doll closer. ¡°Baba?¡± they repeated, their voice softer now, confused, like they didn¡¯t understand why no one was answering them. Orri¡ª who had been unnervingly quiet since the child appeared¡ª slowly knelt down, setting his lute aside. His voice, when he spoke, was gentle. ¡°Hey,¡± he said softly. ¡°Hey, sweetheart. What¡¯s your name?¡± The child hesitated, eyes flicking between them. Then, in a whisper, ¡°Lylia.¡± Orri smiled, small but reassuring. ¡°That¡¯s a pretty name, Lylia. I¡¯m Orri. I have a little sister I¡¯d bet is your age.¡± He tilted his head, keeping his movements slow. ¡°Baba¡¯s gone, sweetling. I¡¯m so sorry.¡± Lylia nodded once, solemn, clutching the doll tighter. Melissa wanted to throw up. Julia closed her eyes, swallowing back the sharp sting of guilt in her throat. The elf¡ª the feral, desperate thing they had killed without a second thought¡ª the elf had been Lylia¡¯s parent. Rupert let out a slow breath. ¡°Saints.¡± Alina ran a hand down her face. ¡°So what do we do?¡± ¡°We take her with us,¡± Orri said immediately. Tevon frowned. ¡°To where? We can¡¯t just¡ª¡° ¡°To Di¡¯raz,¡± Orri interrupted. ¡°There¡¯s a temple there. They should have an orphanage.¡± Lylia didn¡¯t seem to fully understand what was happening, but she looked at Orri now, uncertain but trusting. Julia exhaled, nodding. ¡°Okay. We¡¯ll take her to Di¡¯raz.¡± Rupert glanced toward the storm still raging outside and sighed. ¡°Well, we¡¯re not traveling in that.¡± They set up camp inside the ruins silently, the weight of the night settling over them all. Melissa lay awake long after the others had drifted off, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of Lylia¡¯s slow, even breathing. The unease in her chest didn¡¯t fade. Chapter 6 Annemarie woke with a headache. Not the sharp, blinding kind, but the dull, wrong kind¡ª the kind that made her limbs feel heavy and her thoughts sluggish. She pushed herself upright, rubbing her temples. The cottage was quiet, the faint scent of last night¡¯s stew still lingering in the air. Venison. Outside, the muffled sounds of morning filtered through the thin shutters¡ª birds, distant chatter, the rhythmic clang of a blacksmith at work. Brandon sat at the table, boots propped up on a chair, absently rolling a coin between his fingers. He looked up as she stirred. ¡°Morning,¡± he said, but his voice was cautious. Annemarie sighed. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± Brandon raised an eyebrow. ¡°Are you?¡± She hesitated. The truth was, she wasn¡¯t sure. She still didn¡¯t remember what had happened the night they arrived, not fully, but the memory of that eerie blue glow lingered at the edges of her mind. Like something seen through fog. But she didn¡¯t want to talk about it. So instead, she forced a small smile. ¡°I will be.¡± Brandon studied her for a moment longer before exhaling through his nose. ¡°Alright.¡± He stood, stretching. ¡°I¡¯m gonna go explore.¡± Annemarie tilted her head. ¡°Explore?¡± He shrugged. ¡°Check out the neighborhood. See what people do around here. Maybe find something useful to do while you rest.¡± She rolled her eyes, but the gesture was fond. ¡°Getting cabin fever?¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± he admitted. ¡°But we live here, right? Might as well figure out what that actually means.¡± She hummed in agreement. ¡°Just don¡¯t get arrested.¡± Brandon grinned. ¡°No promises.¡± And with that, he stepped outside, closing the door softly behind him. Annemarie remained still for a moment after the door shut, staring at the worn wood of the table where Brandon had been sitting. The quiet of the cottage pressed in around her, wrapping her in a stillness that felt both comfortable and unnerving. She ran a hand over the blanket pooled in her lap, fingers tracing the embroidery along its edges. Brandon had taken care of her. Tucked her in. Let her sleep. It would have been sweet, if the thought of being an invalid didn¡¯t make her want to crawl out of her skin. She exhaled slowly and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The floor was cool against her bare feet, grounding her in the present even as her thoughts drifted. That damnable blue light still clung to the back of her mind, familiar and foreign all at once. It was her own power, she knew that much, but she hadn¡¯t meant to call on it. She didn¡¯t even remember how. Her head throbbed again, a slow, dragging ache behind her eyes. She grimaced, pressing her palms to her temples as if she could smooth out whatever had tangled inside her. The smell of the dying fire still wafted through the air, mixed with the faintest trace of something herbal¡ª tea, maybe. Had Brandon made it? She couldn¡¯t remember. Annemarie pushed herself out of bed, wincing as her muscles protested. How long had she been asleep? Days? Hours? She glanced toward the window, where pale morning light spilled through the warped glass. Outside, the town was waking. Somewhere beyond the cottage walls, people were talking¡ª low voices carrying snippets of mundane conversation. She caught a word here and there, but none of it stuck. Annemarie let her hand fall away from her forehead and inhaled deeply, steadying herself. The world hadn¡¯t ended overnight. She was still here. Still breathing. Still herself, more or less. Brandon would be back soon. And when he came back, she would have to pretend she wasn¡¯t unraveling. Brandon didn¡¯t have a plan. He wandered through Ismay¡¯s Landing, hands in his pockets, watching the town wake up. Shopkeepers opened their stalls, farmers hauled goods toward the market, children darted through the streets, laughing as they played. It was peaceful. Stable. A world away from the chaos of their arrival. And yet, beneath it all, he felt unsettled. His feet carried him toward the outskirts, where the town¡¯s training grounds lay¡ª a wide, open field bordered by a wooden fence. There were targets for archery, sandpits for sparring, and racks of dull-edged practice weapons. A handful of soldiers and young trainees were already at work, their movements crisp and disciplined. Brandon hesitated at the entrance. He had never been much of a fighter. Even back on Earth, he had never wanted to be. But here, where everything was unpredictable, where Annemarie had collapsed and Julia carried daggers like a second nature¡ª he wondered if maybe he should learn. ¡°Looking for something?¡± Brandon turned. A grizzled man, older but broad-shouldered and steady-eyed, leaned against the fence. His tunic was worn but clean, a longsword strapped to his hip. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Uh,¡± Brandon rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°Maybe?¡± The man smirked. ¡°You ever held a blade before?¡± Brandon hesitated. ¡°Not really, no.¡± The man nodded toward the practice racks. ¡°Name¡¯s Ulric. Pick one.¡± Brandon blinked. ¡°Brandon. And wait, just like that?¡± ¡°You won¡¯t learn by standing around,¡± Ulric said simply. ¡°Unless you¡¯re here to watch. In which case, you¡¯re standing in the wrong spot.¡± Brandon exhaled. ¡°Alright.¡± He stepped forward, scanning the weapons. Some were heavier than he expected, others awkward in his grip. Eventually, he settled on a training sword¡ª not too long, not too unwieldy. Ulric nodded in approval. ¡°Good. Now hold it like this¡ª¡° The next few hours passed in a blur of footwork, stances, and careful corrections. Brandon found the rhythm of it surprisingly fun¡ª the way movement flowed, the balance between speed and control. It was physical, engaging, something he could focus on without overthinking. But then, as he swung a little too hard and nearly overbalanced, the reality of it hit him. This wasn¡¯t just a game. Julia and Melissa carried weapons because they expected to use them. And him? Could he actually hurt someone if it came down to it? Brandon¡¯s grip tightened around the hilt.He wasn¡¯t sure if he liked the answer.
Brandon lingered for a moment by the door, taking in the sight of the cottage in the soft, fading light. The rough edges of their first days here had been smoothed out¡ª less makeshift, less transient. The scent of fresh-cut wood from the patched beams mixed with the warmth of the fire, and the rough wool blankets they¡¯d scavenged were neatly folded at the foot of their bed. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was theirs. His boots were caked with dust from the training grounds, his hands still raw from wielding the practice sword, but he ignored the stiffness in his limbs as he crossed the room. Annemarie barely stirred, her face half-buried in the quilt, only the tousled crown of her dark hair visible. The firelight cast a faint glow over her skin, highlighting the flush on her cheeks, the fine sheen of sweat at her brow. He sighed, brushing the back of his knuckles lightly against her forehead. Definitely too warm. ¡°You probably caught something,¡± he said, keeping his voice low, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile moment. She made a vague, miserable noise and burrowed deeper into the blanket. ¡°Great. I escape one world just to get taken out by the flu in another.¡± Brandon huffed a quiet laugh. ¡°At least it¡¯s not the plague.¡± ¡°That we know of,¡± she grumbled, cracking one eye open. He rolled his eyes and nudged her shoulder. ¡°Come on, smartass. Let¡¯s get you off this chair before you pass out in it.¡± Her attempt at protest was half-hearted at best. She let him pull her to her feet, leaning against him more than she probably realized, her weight a sluggish, boneless thing. He guided her toward the bed, lowering her carefully onto the straw mattress. She sighed as he tucked the quilt snugly around her, settling instantly. ¡°Domestic as hell,¡± she muttered, eyes already slipping shut. Brandon shook his head, exasperated but fond. ¡°Yeah, yeah. Go to sleep.¡± The fire crackled softly, throwing shifting shadows along the rough stone walls. Outside, the last sounds of the town winding down drifted through the thin window¡ª a cart rumbling over cobblestones, distant voices fading into the quiet hum of the evening. Brandon sat back, stretching his legs out in front of him, watching the flickering flames. His mind still buzzed with the day¡¯s discoveries¡ª bits of information, glimpses of something bigger, things he¡¯d need to talk to Annemarie about when she wasn¡¯t half-delirious with fever. But that would need to wait. For now, for just this moment, they were safe.
The fire had burned low in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the small cottage. The air was cool, the scent of damp wood and faint embers lingering. Outside, the wind rustled through the trees, whispering against the walls. Brandon stirred in his sleep, something¡ª a sound, a shift in the air¡ª pulling him from his dreams. He blinked, disoriented, before realizing what had woken him. A faint, ragged breath. He turned sharply toward Annemarie She was awake¡ª or something close to it¡ª her chest rising and falling in uneven, shallow gasps. Her skin was pale but drenched in sweat, her curls plastered to her forehead. The quilt was twisted around her, tangled from restless movement. Brandon sat up immediately. ¡°Anne?¡± She didn¡¯t respond at first, her eyes glassy and unfocused, caught somewhere between wakefulness and fevered delirium. ¡°Anne,¡± he repeated placing a hand against her forehead. Too warm. Too warm. She let out a small, broken noise, her breath hitching as she shivered violently despite the heat radiating off her. Brandon swallowed hard. ¡°Shit.¡± He shook her shoulder gently. ¡°Hey, you with me?¡± Annemarie blinked slowly, her gaze struggling to focus. ¡°Brandon?¡± ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± he said, voice softer now. ¡°You¡¯re burning up.¡± She let out a weak, breathless laugh. ¡°Yeah. Not having a great time, if I¡¯m being honest.¡± Brandon exhaled, running a hand through his hair. ¡°You¡¯re really sick, love.¡± She closed her eyes for a moment, swallowing with difficulty. ¡°Fever dreams. Nightmares.¡± Her voice was barely above a whisper. ¡°Everything feels wrong.¡± Brandon¡¯s stomach twisted. He had never been good at feeling helpless, and this¡ª watching his partner curled in on herself, struggling for breath, utterly miserable¡ª was exactly that. ¡°Alright,¡± he said, keeping his voice steady. ¡°Here¡¯s the deal. Any worse, and I¡¯m getting Gwri.¡± Annemarie groaned. ¡°Bran¡ª¡° ¡°Nope.¡± He leveled her with a look, unwavering. ¡°Promise me.¡± She hesitated, but she was too exhausted to argue properly. ¡°Fine,¡± she mumbled. ¡°Promise.¡± Brandon exhaled. ¡°Good.¡± He helped her sit up enough to drink some water, then carefully untangled the quilt, making sure she wasn¡¯t overheating. ¡°You need rest,¡± he muttered. Annemarie let out a tired sigh, already sinking back into the mattress. Brandon stayed awake long after she drifted off, listening to the uneven sound of her breathing, watching the dying fire cast restless shadows across the walls. He told himself she¡¯d be fine. He wasn¡¯t sure he believed it. Chapter 7 The road to Di¡¯raz had been long and dusty, winding through rolling hills and stretches of sparse woodland, but now, as the city loomed before them, Julia felt a distinct sense of unease. The fortress-city was nothing like anything she¡¯d seen before. The walls were thick, massive slabs of stone reinforced with layers of brick and mortar, towering over the surrounding land like the ribs of some great beast. Age and war had left their mark¡ª scorch marks from past sieges, patches where the stone had been replaced, deep grooves worn into the gates by centuries of heavy use. And yet, despite its scars, Di¡¯raz stood unbroken, an unyielding bastion against the world beyond. Buildings had been carved directly into the walls, windowed facades and precarious balconies jutting out from the stone, giving the impression of a city half-swallowed by its own defenses. It was as if Di¡¯raz had been built not for the comfort of its people, but for war¡ª for siege, for endurance, for survival. The main gate was a gaping maw, flanked by guards in dark blue cloaks. Their armor was polished but practical, their hands resting easily on their weapons as they watched travelers pass beneath the archway. They did not stop anyone, but their gaze was sharp, assessing. Melissa whistled low. ¡°Well. That¡¯s not ominous at all.¡± Julia exhaled, adjusting the strap of her pack. The weight of the journey still clung to her shoulders, but it was nothing compared to the heavy sense of something unseen pressing at the back of her mind. ¡°Let¡¯s just get this over with.¡± They left Lylia at the temple orphanage, a tall, spired structure made of pale sandstone. Its arched windows cast colorful light in the halls, and the air inside smelled of incense and old parchment. Beeswax candles and sun-warmed stone. The priestesses there took the child without question, their expressions kind but tired, their movements practiced. Lylia, to her credit, didn¡¯t cry or cling. She simply watched as they left, her woven doll clutched tightly in her small hands. Orri lingered at the door, staring at her small form as she was gently led away by one of the priestesses. His fingers twitched at his sides, like he wanted to reach out but didn¡¯t know if he should. Julia nudged him lightly. ¡°She¡¯ll be safe here.¡± Orri exhaled. ¡°Yeah. Yeah, I know.¡± Melissa, uncharacteristically quiet, didn¡¯t look back as they walked away. Tevon, Rupert, and Alina split off toward the barracks, disappearing into the military district where the city¡¯s soldiers were housed. The stone streets there were broader, more uniform, lined with training grounds and armories. The rhythmic clash of steel and the barked commands of drill sergeants carried through the air, adding to the ever-present hum of the city. Orri left soon after, heading for the Bard¡¯s College, nestled deeper in the city near the artisan quarter. There, the streets grew narrower, twisting and uneven, the scent of ink and wood polish mixing with the faint, warm tones of music drifting from upper windows. That just left Melissa and Julia, standing in the bustling street, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and voices. ¡°So,¡± Melissa said, stretching, her joints popping. ¡°Now what?¡± Julia sighed, glancing around at the shifting crowd. Merchants shouted over one another, carts creaked beneath heavy loads, and somewhere nearby, a dog barked sharply. The city felt alive in a way that was different from Ismay¡¯s Landing¡ª busier, rougher, edged with a tension that lingered beneath the surface. ¡°We find somewhere to sleep,¡± Julia muttered, already dreading the task. Melissa smirked. ¡°Seedy tavern it is.¡± They found exactly what they were looking for in a dark, narrow street near the lower market¡ª a run-down inn wedged between a blacksmith¡¯s shop and what Julia was pretty sure was an illegal gambling den. The building sagged slightly against its neighbors, as if it had long since given up fighting the weight of the city pressing in around it. The sign above the door was too faded to read, its paint peeling away in long, curling strips. The hinges groaned in protest as Melissa pushed open the door, revealing a dimly lit common room that smelled of ale, sweat, and bad decisions. The floor was sticky in places, the wooden beams overhead warped with age and moisture. A few patrons looked up as they entered¡ª rough men in battered cloaks, a pair of women in mismatched armor, a hunched figure nursing a drink in the corner¡ª but no one paid them much attention beyond that. Melissa looked delighted. Julia pinched the bridge of her nose. ¡°I hate this already.¡± Melissa grinned. ¡°It¡¯s perfect.¡± The innkeeper, a wiry man with sharp edges and a permanent frown, barely glanced at them as they paid for a room. The key was rusted, the stairs uneven, and the hallway upstairs reeked faintly of mildew. Their room was small, cramped, and just damp enough to be unpleasant. The bed¡ª because there was only one¡ª creaked alarmingly when they sat down, and the single window was so coated in grime that it let only the faintest hint of moonlight. But the door locked. The bed had a mattress. And after the last few days on the road, after everything, that was enough. Melissa flopped onto the bed with a sigh. ¡°Luxury.¡± Julia snorted and sat, leaning back against the rickety headboard. It wasn¡¯t comfortable. It wasn¡¯t safe. It was going to be a long night.
The room smelled like sweat and stale ale, and the mattress beneath Julia was barely better than sleeping on a wooden plank, but at least it was quiet. Outside, rain had started, tapping steadily against the roof, a steady rhythm that might have been soothing if Julia weren¡¯t already half-awake, waiting for something to go wrong. Melissa, of course, was snoring. Julia shifted, trying to get comfortable, pulling the thin blanket higher around her shoulders. The air was damp, the kind of thick, clinging humidity that made it impossible to feel fully rested. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Then¡ª a groan of wood above them. Julia¡¯s eyes snapped open. ¡°Mel¡ª¡° The ceiling collapsed. A chunk of rotted wood broke loose overhead, sending dust, splinters, and several large, very alive creatures crashing down directly onto their bed. Julia barely had time to register the weight landing on her chest before she was moving, shoving the blanket aside and flinging herself sideways as something hissed near her hear. Melissa yelled, flailing in the tangled sheets and panicked limbs. ¡°What the fuck?!¡± Scorpions. Four of them. Each the size of a small cat, their hard black shells glistening, stingers raised and clicking angrily as they skittered over the ruined bed. And, of course, tangled in the mess of broken ceiling boards and rainwater¡ª Gorgoloth Bigovars. ¡°Gorgoloth!¡± Melissa exclaimed, grabbing the massive spider and pulling him close. ¡°You¡¯re okay!¡± ¡°Melissa, priorities!¡± Julia kicked a scorpion off the bed, narrowly avoiding a stab of its venomous tail. Melissa had already drawn her dagger, swinging at one of the scorpions with enthusiasm. ¡°I¡¯m handling it!¡± ¡°You¡¯re cuddling the spider!¡± ¡°Gorgoloth is innocent in this!¡± Julia dodged another scorpion, grabbing the half-broken wooden chair from the corner of the room and slamming it down onto the nearest creature. The legs splintered, but the scorpion stopped moving, its body curling in on itself. Melissa, meanwhile, had stabbed two of them, her dagger flashing in the dim lantern light. One twitched, legs spasming before it stilled. The last scorpion lunged, its stinger aiming for Melissa¡¯s arm¡ª Gorgoloth moved first. The giant spider pounced, sinking its fangs into the scorpion¡¯s head. The scorpion let out a hideous screech, legs thrashing wildly before finally collapsing into a motionless heap. Melissa beamed, stroking Gorgoloth¡¯s back. ¡°That¡¯s my boy.¡± Julia breathed heavily, surveying the wreckage that had once been their room. The bed was ruined. The ceiling had a gaping hole. Water dripped steadily onto the soaked mattress, ruined blankets, and several dead scorpions. Melissa flopped back onto the one remaining dry spot on the mattress, completely unfazed. ¡°So much for getting a good night¡¯s sleep,¡± she said woefully. Julia dragged a hand down her face, exhaling through her nose. ¡°Do you think the innkeeper takes complaints?¡± Melissa patted Gorgoloth¡¯s fuzzy head. He perched on her stomach like a cat. ¡°We¡¯re bonding. This is a bonding experience.¡± ¡°Oh, fuck you.¡±
Morning in Di¡¯raz was loud. The city had a pulse, a constant thrum of voices, footsteps, and distant hammering, all woven together in the chaos of a new day. The air was still damp from last night¡¯s storm, but the streets were alive¡ª merchants calling out their wares, the scent of spiced bread and roasting meat drifting from street vendors. Julia and Melissa were exhausted. ¡°I hate everything,¡± Melissa grumbled, rubbing at her bleary eyes. ¡°You were the one who wanted to stay at that tavern,¡± Julia muttered, adjusting the strap of her pack. ¡°You agreed!¡± Melissa shot back. ¡°Besides, if you think about it, it was an experience to remember.¡± Julia stared at her. ¡°We got attacked by scorpions in the middle of the night, Melissa. In bed. I don¡¯t want to remember any of that.¡± Melissa huffed, crossing her arms. ¡°I want breakfast.¡± They were making their way through the market, sluggish and sore, resupplying after the disaster that was their night. Food, medical supplies, an extra blanket¡ª no sketchy taverns anymore, only responsible choices. Then they¡¯d heard the yelling. They had rounded a corner and nearly walked straight into a group of children¡ª older boys, laughing and jeering, hurling rocks at something¡ª or someone¡ª against the alley wall. Then Julia saw who it was. ¡°Lylia?¡± The little girl was hunched in on herself, clutching her woven doll with white-knuckled fingers, her thin frame caked in dust. One of the boys shoved her, knocking her to the ground. Melissa moved first. ¡°Hey!¡± The bullies turned, eyes wide as they realized they¡¯d been caught. ¡°Walk away,¡± Julia warned, stepping up beside Melissa, voice low and cold. ¡°Now.¡± One of the older boys¡ª maybe fourteen, smug, mean¡ª scoffed. ¡°Or what?¡± Melissa¡¯s grip on her dagger twitched. ¡°You don¡¯t want to find out.¡± The boy smirked. ¡°What, you¡¯re gonna fight a bunch of kids?¡± ¡°If they act like dickheads? Yeah.¡± Julia, trying to be reasonable, took a deep breath. ¡°Look. Just go home. No one needs to get hurt.¡± That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say. Because the boy¡ª too fast, too cocky, too fucking stupid¡ª pulled a knife. And then stabbed Melissa. ¡°Oh, you little shit¡ª¡° The knife wasn¡¯t deep, but it hurt, and Melissa, in pure reflex, punched the kid in the face so hard he dropped like a sack of bricks. Chaos erupted. Another boy swung at Julia¡ª she dodged, caught his wrist, twisted¡ª he yelped and dropped his rock. Melissa, still bleeding, grabbed another by the scruff of his shirt and threw him bodily into the mud. The remaining boys took one look at their fallen leader, at Melissa¡¯s drawn dagger, Julia¡¯s cold glare, and bolted. Melissa clutched her side, breathing heavily. ¡°I just got stabbed by a toddler.¡± ¡°Not a toddler,¡± Julia corrected. ¡°A street rat with a knife.¡± ¡°Same thing.¡± ¡°You should sit down.¡± ¡°I should punt that kid into the fucking sun.¡± ¡°Priorities,¡± Julia sighed, turning to Lylia. The girl had not moved¡ª still standing rigid, her doll clutched tightly, eyes wide with something unreadable. ¡°Lylia,¡± Julia said gently. ¡°Why did you run away?¡± The little girl hesitated. Then, barely a whisper¡ª ¡°Looking for Baba.¡± Melissa sighed, rubbing a hand down her face. ¡°Lord preserve us.¡± They returned to the temple orphanage, Lylia silent the whole way. She stared at Gorgoloth on Melissa¡¯s back, grinning when he chittered at her. The priestess weren¡¯t surprised¡ª they had already been looking for her¡ª but their faces were weary. ¡°She keeps running,¡± one of them admitted. ¡°We¡¯ll watch her more carefully this time.¡± Melissa, still bleeding, was patched up quickly¡ª small wound, clean cut, nothing too serious¡ª but Julia could tell she was milking it for sympathy. ¡°He got a lucky shot,¡± Melissa muttered dramatically as the priest wrapped the bandage. ¡°It happens.¡± Julia rolled her eyes. ¡°You got stabbed by a child.¡± ¡°A feral child.¡± ¡°Uh-huh.¡± ¡°Could¡¯ve died, Julia.¡± ¡°I bet." By the time they left the temple, exhaustion had caught up with them. Melissa dragged her feet, pressing a hand to her side. ¡°I need alcohol and a bed.¡± ¡°No more shitty inns,¡± Julia warned. ¡°We¡¯re staying somewhere decent.¡± Melissa groaned. ¡°That¡¯s fair.¡± They found The Gilded Kipper, a clean, respectable-looking inn with actual furniture and ceilings that, presumably, didn¡¯t collapse onto guests. Melissa dropped onto the bed immediately, groaning dramatically. ¡°Wake me up when the world stops trying to kill me.¡± Julia sighed, pulling off her boots. ¡°Sleep. You need it.¡± Melissa grunted in response. For the first time since arriving in Di¡¯raz, she actually felt safe. Finally. Chapter 8 Brandon woke to silence. That wasn¡¯t right. For the past few days, Annemarie¡¯s fever had kept her restless- her body shifting under the covers, her breath uneven, sharp gasps and murmurs slipping out as she drifted in and out of consciousness. Even in sleep, she had been there, present in the room, alive in a way that reassured him despite everything. But now? Now, she was still. Brandon sat up sharply, the bed creaking beneath him, the rough wool blanket pooling at his waist. The early morning light filtering through the warped glass of the window cast the room in pale, watery hues, painting long shadows across the uneven wooden floor. The air was thick with the lingering scent of damp cloth, fever sweat, and the faint traces of last night¡¯s smoldering fire. ¡°Anne?¡± His voice was hoarse, cracked from sleep, but it cut through the silence like a blade. She didn¡¯t stir. His stomach clenched. Throwing off his blanket, he moved quickly. His fingers ghosted over her face, hovering for a moment before pressing against her cheek, then her forehead. Too warm. Not the sharp, blazing heat of a fever on the rise, but something deeper¡ª something that felt like it had settled beneath her skin, curling into her bones. A heat that didn¡¯t burn outward but instead drew inward, sinking, pulling. ¡°Annemarie,¡± he tried again, firmer this time. He shook her gently, then harder. Nothing. Her lashes fluttered, but she didn¡¯t wake. Her lips were parted slightly, her breath so faint he had to lean in to hear it. His pulse roared in his ears as his mind raced ahead of him, shoving possibilities in front of him faster than he could grasp them. Then¡ª movement. Her lips moved, murmuring something under her breath, so soft it was almost lost beneath the quiet. Relief surged for a half-second before the sound fully registered. It wasn¡¯t English. Brandon froze. The words dripped from her tongue like water, fluid and strange, syllables falling into place with unnatural precision, like she was reciting something from memory. But there was something sharp to them, too¡ª something rhythmic, as if following a pattern only she could hear. The hair on his arms stood on end. This wasn¡¯t just fevered mumbling. His gut twisted. ¡°Shit.¡± No time to think. No time to second-guess. Brandon shoved his feet into his boots, barely bothering to lace them, his fingers clumsy in his rush. He needed help. Now. He cast one last look at Annemarie, her face pale against the blankets, the strange words still spilling from her lips in an endless, quiet chant. Then he ran. Beryon and Gwri arrived within minutes. Brandon barely let them inside before dragging them to Annemarie¡¯s bedside, his pulse pounding in his ears. The room felt smaller than it had before, the weight of his panic pressing against the walls, making it harder to breathe. Gwri leaned in first, their fingers pressing lightly against Annemarie¡¯s forehead, then over the delicate pulse point at her throat. Their brow furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. Beryon stood back, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching carefully. ¡° She¡¯s alive.¡± Brandon snapped his gaze up, his frustration boiling over. ¡°Yeah, but look at her!¡± He gestured sharply at Annemarie¡¯s limp form. ¡°She won¡¯t wake up, she¡¯s speaking¡ª something, and she won¡¯t stop.¡± Gwri tilted their head, listening to the low, whispered words slipping past Annemarie¡¯s lips. Their fingers twitched slightly, and for the first time since they arrived, their carefully measured expression cracked. ¡°That¡¯s not a fever dream,¡± they murmured. ¡°That¡¯s magic.¡± Brandon¡¯s stomach dropped like a stone. ¡°What kind of magic?¡± Gwri exhaled through their nose, shaking their head. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± That was the wrong answer. Brandon ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tangling in the unkempt mess. Frustration clawed at his chest, burning hotter with every second. ¡°You¡¯re a healer, aren¡¯t you? How do you not know?¡± ¡°Because she isn¡¯t sick,¡± Beryon said simply. Brandon turned on him, incredulous. ¡°Excuse me?¡± Beryon gestured to Annemarie¡¯s still form, his gaze unwavering. ¡°Her body is fine. No infection, no internal damage. Her heartbeat is steady. Whatever is happening to her? It¡¯s not physical.¡± Brandon¡¯s jaw tightened, something cold creeping up his spine. ¡°That¡¯s worse!¡± Gwri frowned, arms crossing as they stepped back from the bed. ¡°It means I can¡¯t heal it. If it were just an illness, I¡¯d be able to do something. This? This is beyond me.¡± Brandon felt sick. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, useless, powerless. The words Annemarie whispered¡ª words he couldn¡¯t understand, words she had no reason to know¡ª felt heavier now, curling in the air like a presence all their own. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°So what, we just do nothing?¡± Beryon was silent for a long moment. Then, finally¡ª ¡°We contact Kiernen.¡± Brandon blinked. ¡°What?¡± Beryon¡¯s gaze was sharp, unwavering. ¡°She has contacts. People who specialize in magical abnormalities like this. If we don¡¯t know what¡¯s happening, we find someone who does.¡± Gwri nodded slowly, their eyes flickering with understanding. ¡°Melissa and Julia should be in Atriane by now. It would make sense for them to come back.¡± Brandon swallowed hard, his mind racing. Every instinct screamed at him to act now, to fix this himself, but there was nothing he could do. Not alone. ¡°How long would it take?¡± His voice was quiet, low. Beryon sighed, running a hand over his jaw. ¡°Depends on how fast the carrier pigeon flies.¡± Brandon turned back to Annemarie, his chest aching with something too raw to name. The candlelight flickered against her damp skin, her lips still forming those strange, unknowable words. She wasn¡¯t here, not really. She was slipping further away with every moment, deeper into something he didn¡¯t understand. He couldn¡¯t let her go. ¡°Send the message,¡± he said quietly.
The ferry ride from Di¡¯raz to Daraden was slow but steady, the wooden hull gliding smoothly across the calm waters. The storms had long since passed, but their remnants lingered in the heavy gray clouds rolling across the horizon, casting long shadows over the river. The air was thick with the scent of muck and something sharper¡ª fish, the damp wood of the ship that had absorbed years of algae and river water. Melissa leaned against the railing, frowning at the waves below. ¡°Why does everything smell like fish?¡± Julia, seated nearby with her arms crossed, didn¡¯t bother looking up. ¡°Because we¡¯re on a boat, Melissa.¡± Gorgoloth, wearing a pair of Melissa¡¯s sunglasses, chittered. Melissa wrinkled her nose. ¡°Yeah, well, I don¡¯t like it.¡± ¡°Noted.¡± As they neared the dock, Daraden came into view¡ª a town smaller than Di¡¯raz had been but larger than Ismay¡¯s Landing, more of a suburb than a city but alive with movement. Low, sturdy buildings lined the waterfront, their stone-and-timber construction built to withstand heavy seasonal rains. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the streets bustled with people going about their business. It should have been a scene of normalcy. But something was wrong. Even before they stepped off the ferry, they could hear it¡ª the low murmur of uneasy voices, the way people clustered together in tight groups, their heads bent close in hurried conversation. And at the center of it all¡ª A fruit seller stood atop a wooden crate in the main square, his arms spread wide as he bellowed over the gathering crowd. ¡°I am telling you! There is nothing to worry about! I have seen the Saints and they have spoken¡ª Lolinglas is safe! There is no cause for concern!¡± A woman and two children were distributing fruit to the crowd, wrinkled apples and tiny woven baskets of berries. Julia and Melissa exchanged glances. ¡°There¡¯s a man trying really hard to convince himself,¡± Julia muttered. Melissa sighed, already exhausted by whatever this was. ¡°Let¡¯s ask around.¡± They moved to the edge of the crowd, catching snippets of hushed conversations as they passed. ¡°¡ªsaying the Ionian military is mobilizing¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªheard there were soldiers spotted near the western border¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªKiernen would never let it happen, but if Lashaar is behind this¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªpeople have been conscripted¡ª¡± Melissa exhaled sharply through her nose, already done with the whole situation. Without hesitation, she pushed forward. ¡°Hey!¡± Her voice cut through the noise of the square, sharp and commanding.¡± The fruit seller faltered mid-sentence, his eyes widening as she strode forward, hands on her hips, exuding all the patience of someone about to eviscerate a customer service representative. ¡°Look,¡± she said, tilting her head. ¡°If there¡¯s really nothing to worry about, then why are you standing here yelling about it?¡± The crowd stirred. ¡°I¡ª¡± The fruit seller blinked, clearly caught off guard. ¡°People are spreading rumors, and I am simply reassuring them!¡± Melissa raised an unimpressed eyebrow. ¡°Right. Because shouting at them is definitely making them feel less concerned.¡± A few murmurs rippled through the gathered people. ¡°She¡¯s got a point,¡± someone muttered. ¡°Lolinglas wouldn¡¯t just lie down for Iona,¡± another person added. ¡°Kiernen would fight back.¡± Melissa turned, addressing the crowd now. ¡°Look, I get it. You¡¯re scared. And that¡¯s fair. But there¡¯s a difference between being careful and being paranoid¡ª between staying informed and sticking your head in the sand.¡± The crowd was listening now. ¡°So instead of standing here listening to this guy scream about how ¡®there¡¯s nothing to worry about¡¯, maybe try actually thinking for yourselves. Talk to the authorities. Get real information. But don¡¯t let people like this convince you that ignoring a problem will make it go away.¡± Silence. Then, slowly, the tension began to unravel as people started dispersing, muttering among themselves, conversations shifting from fear to something closer to action. The fruit seller scowled. ¡°Who do you think you are?¡± Melissa smirked. ¡°Someone with more sense than you.¡± Julia sighed, rubbing her temple. ¡°You just had to start something, didn¡¯t you?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a gift,¡± Melissa said smugly. Before Julia could retort, the heavy clank of armored boots echoed across the square. The murmur of the dispersing crowd faded as heads turned, wary eyes flickering toward the approaching soldiers. The group moved with practiced precision, cutting through the remaining civilians like a blade through cloth. Their dark blue cloaks, fastened with silver clasps, marked them as royal guards¡ª Kiernen¡¯s own. Their armor gleamed, well-maintained despite the scuffs and scratches of use, and each carried a sheathed sword at their hip. The lead soldier¡ª a woman with sharp eyes, her blond hair braided tightly against her skull¡ª stepped forward. Her stance was rigid, her expression unreadable, the sort of person who took their orders as absolute. ¡°Melissa Ramirez and Julia Meier?¡± Julia tensed immediately, her pulse kicking up a notch. Her first instinct was to bolt, but she forced herself to stand her ground, fingers twitching at her sides. She met the woman¡¯s gaze evenly. ¡°Who¡¯s asking?¡± The guard didn¡¯t so much as blink. ¡°By order of Her Majesty Queen Kiernen, we¡¯ve been instructed to find you. She wishes to speak.¡± A silence settled between them, thick and expectant. The guards made no immediate move to grab them, but their presence alone sent an unspoken message: this wasn¡¯t a request. Julia¡¯s mind raced through the possibilities. Kiernen knew they were here. How? And why? Had the queen been expecting them? Had someone sent word ahead? Had they already drawn too much attention? Melissa, completely unfazed, let out a low whistle. ¡°Well,¡± she muttered, tilting her head toward Julia. ¡°That was fast.¡± Julia clenched her jaw. Too fast. And she wasn¡¯t sure she liked that. Chapter 9 Kiernen Tormevi was a presence. She wasn¡¯t particularly tall, nor did she wear anything extravagantly regal, but she didn¡¯t need to. The way she held herself¡ª the quiet strength, the weight of history behind every movement¡ª was enough to command a room. She carried herself with the certainty of someone who had survived more than her fair share of battles, not just with steel, but with politics, betrayals, and the slow, grinding endurance of exile. Her skin was light brown, sun-warmed despite the cool Lolinglas climate, lined faintly at the corners of her eyes but otherwise unweathered by time. Her dark hair, streaked with silver at the temples, was pulled back into elegant but practical braids, a style that spoke of both efficiency and tradition. There was nothing overly ostentatious about her clothing¡ª a deep blue tunic, finely tailored but practical, embroidered with gold only at the collar¡ª a subtle reminder of her station. No crown, no heavy jewels, no unnecessary display. And yet, there was no mistaking who she was. And she was smiling. ¡°Julia Meier,¡± Kiernen said warmly, stepping forward, her voice rich with familiarity. ¡°Saints, you look like your father.¡± Julia straightened automatically, feeling the weight of that observation settle in her chest. Kiernen Tormevi¡ª the exiled Queen of Milana, the last living ruler of the fallen House of Tormevi¡ª was thrilled to see her. ¡°You knew him?¡± Julia asked, keeping her voice carefully even. Kiernen huffed a quiet laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. ¡°Of course I knew him. We fought together, drank together¡ª survived together.¡± Julia swallowed hard, a lump forming in her throat. She hadn¡¯t even realized how much she wanted someone to say those words. To confirm it, to make her father real in a way he hadn¡¯t been since she was a child. Kiernen studied her for a long moment, her gaze shifting, softening. ¡°He¡¯d be disappointed to find you putting yourself in danger,¡± she admitted. ¡°But he¡¯d still be proud of you.¡± Something tightened in Julia¡¯s chest¡ª grief, gratitude, longing. ¡°Thank you,¡± she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Kiernen exhaled, then clapped her hands together, the warmth in her eyes shifting back to something more businesslike. ¡°Well, you didn¡¯t come all this way just to hear me reminisce. Whatever support you need, I¡¯ll give it. If you or your friends ever need a place to stay, my doors are open. But right now¡ª¡± Her expression sharpened, the ease in her stance giving way to something weightier, more urgent. ¡°I received a message,¡± she said. ¡°About your friend. Annemarie.¡± Melissa, who had been uncharacteristically quiet until now, straightened immediately. ¡°What about her?¡± Kiernen met her gaze evenly. ¡°She¡¯s in bad shape. Your people in Ismay¡¯s Landing are worried.¡± Julia¡¯s stomach dropped. Not now. Melissa tensed, her fingers twitching at her sides. ¡°How bad?¡± ¡°Comatose,¡± Kiernen said simply. ¡°Speaking languages she doesn¡¯t know, trapped in something that¡¯s not just a fever. Whatever¡¯s happening to her isn¡¯t natural.¡± Melissa ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply. ¡°Goddammit.¡± ¡°We need to go back, then?¡± Julia asked. Kiernen held up a hand. ¡°Not just yet. It¡¯s magical. You won¡¯t be able to help her by simply being there.¡± Julia frowned. ¡°Then what do you suggest?¡± Kiernen sighed, her gaze flickering toward the large wooden desk in the corner of the room. She strode toward it, pulling open a drawer and retrieving a sealed letter. She turned back and held it out. ¡°Take this to Brenna Siulin,¡± she instructed. Melissa reached for the letter before Julia could. ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± Kiernen smirked slightly, though there was something wry in the expression. ¡°She¡¯s... irritable. Easily annoyed. But she knows more about magic and magical abnormalities than anyone I trust. If anyone can tell you what¡¯s happening to Annemarie, it¡¯s her.¡± Melissa flipped the letter between her fingers. ¡°Where do we find her?¡± ¡°She lives outside Atriane,¡± Kiernen said, ¡°near the old watchtower. Follow the main road north and look for the house covered in charms and warning signs.¡± Melissa blinked. ¡°That¡¯s not ominous at all.¡± Kiernen chuckled. ¡°She likes her privacy. But don¡¯t worry. She¡¯ll help you¡ª even if she complains about it the entire time.¡± Julia took a deep breath, nodding. ¡°Alright. We¡¯ll go to Brenna.¡± Kiernen¡¯s expression softened again, and she placed a steady hand on Julia¡¯s shoulder. There was something grounding in the weight of it¡ª an unspoken reassurance, a quiet certainty. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth,¡± the queen said quietly. ¡°I¡¯m glad you came.¡± Julia met her gaze, something steadying in her chest. ¡°So am I.¡± Brenna Siulin¡¯s cottage looked exactly how Julia expected a reclusive magical expert¡¯s house to look: like it had been cobbled together over decades with equal parts practical charm and absolute disregard for standard architectural principles. It was small and half-hidden in the trees, its roof nearly swallowed by creeping ivy. The wooden walls were weathered but sturdy, carved with intricate patterns that might have been decorative or might have been protective runes¡ª Julia wasn¡¯t sure. Dozens of charms, trinkets, and protective wards hung from the eaves, clattering softly in the wind, each one different from the last. Bones, bits of glass, dried herbs tied in bunches, tiny bells that jingled ominously when the breeze passed through. A rough wooden fence encircled the property, but the gate hung open, swinging lazily in the wind. Beyond it, a small vegetable garden sprawled out in organize chaos¡ª wild-growing tomatoes tangled with herbs, and a few chickens pecked idly in the dirt, utterly unbothered by their arrival. The faint smell of something herbal and slightly burnt hung in the air, curling out from the open porch. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Melissa wrinkled her nose. ¡°Smells like weed.¡± ¡°Because it is weed,¡± Julia muttered, pointing toward the porch. Brenna Siulin was lounging against the railing, pipe in hand, looking exactly like someone who had no intention of taking anything seriously. She was young for an elf, maybe in her late twenties by human standards, with jet-black hair loosely braided over one shoulder. She was lean, dressed in simple but well-made clothes. Her sharp gray eyes were half-lidded, watching them with vague amusement as she exhaled a slow puff of smoke. ¡°Well,¡± she drawled, stretching out her legs. ¡°Took you long enough.¡± Julia and Melissa exchanged glances before stepping closer. ¡°Brenna Siulin?¡± Julia asked. Brenna nodded lazily. ¡°That¡¯s what they tell me.¡± Without bothering to move from her perch, she plucked the letter from Julia¡¯s hands. Her fingers were surprisingly deft considering how absolutely blazed she looked. She unfolded the paper. Read it. Blinked once, slowly. Then, without a word, she reached into her pocket, pulled out a second letter, and handed it to Melissa. Melissa took it, frowning. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Brenna exhaled another cloud of smoke, yawning. ¡°Shopping list.¡± Julia stared at her. ¡°Shopping list?¡± ¡°Yup.¡± Melissa unfolded the paper, scanning it. It read: Melissa slowly looked up. ¡°This is a grocery list.¡± Brenna grinned lazily. ¡°You catch on quick.¡± Julia, already losing patience, exhaled sharply. ¡°Kiernen sent us here because our friend is dying. Is this¡ª¡± she gestured at the list, ¡°¡ª for a spell?¡± Brenna shrugged. ¡°Sure.¡± Melissa narrowed her eyes. ¡°That wasn¡¯t a yes.¡± ¡°And yet,¡± Brenna said, waving her hand vaguely, ¡°here we are.¡± Julia clenched her jaw. ¡°Fine.¡± Melissa, somehow delighted by this entire ordeal, grabbed Julia by the wrist and dragged her back toward town. ¡°Come on, Jules,¡± she said cheerfully. ¡°Let¡¯s go do some magic shopping.¡± It took them an hour to track everything down, mostly because some of the ingredients were oddly specific, and another thirty minutes to argue with the soap vendor over what counted as the good kind. (¡±You cannot just hand me some lumpy animal fat and call it soap,¡± Melissa had said, exasperated.) By the time they returned, loaded down with supplies, Brenna was exactly where they¡¯d left her¡ª still lounging, still very high, still enjoying her pipe. Melissa dropped the bags onto the porch. ¡°Alright,¡± she said, dusting her hands off. ¡°What next?¡± Brenna took a long pull from her pipe, exhaled, and gestured vaguely toward the door. ¡°Kitchen¡¯s that way. Chop the herbs, wash the vegetables, clean up when you¡¯re done.¡± Julia blinked. ¡°You¡¯re putting us to work?¡± ¡°You want my help?¡± Brenna stretched, cracking her neck. ¡°Then help me, first.¡± Melissa snorted, already rolling up her sleeves. ¡°Oh, I like you.¡± Julia groaned but followed. And so, for the next two hours, instead of preparing some intricate magical ritual or gathering vital information, they found themselves chopping parsnips, peeling onions, smashing garlic cloves, and cleaning dishes under Brenna¡¯s very relaxed, very amused supervision. From the corner of the room, Brenna propped her feet up on the table, pipe dangling loosely from her lips. ¡°You¡¯re doing great, ladies,¡± she said lazily, not helping at all. Melissa tossed a parsnip peel at her.
The meal was finished. The cottage was clean. Brenna Siulin was well-fed and utterly unbothered. Julia, however, was about to commit murder. She sat rigidly at the table, fingers curled into the wood, glaring daggers at the smug elf across from her. The evening had started with begrudging acceptance¡ª chopping vegetables, stirring pots, cleaning dishes, all under the assumption that at some point this would lead to something useful. But now, with full stomachs and a spotless kitchen, realization had sunk in like a stone to the gut. They had been played. Melissa, reclining lazily against the wall¡ª she¡¯d had a puff or two of Brenna¡¯s pipe¡ª finally broke the silence. ¡°So,¡± she said, dragging out the word. ¡°This wasn¡¯t a magic ritual at all, was it?¡± Brenna, utterly content, exhaled a pleased sigh and took a slow sip from a steaming mug of goat¡¯s milk. ¡°Nope.¡± Julia snapped. ¡°Are you kidding me?¡± She lunged across the table, aiming to grab the infuriating elf by the collar¡ª but before she could so much as touch her, Brenna moved. It happened too fast to process. One second, Julia was reaching¡ª The next, Brenna sidestepped with effortless grace, caught Julia¡¯s wrist mid-motion, and twisted her arm behind her back, pinning her to the chair in a single, fluid movement. Julia froze. Brenna leaned down slightly, her voice smooth and infuriatingly amused. ¡°Ah, ah. You¡¯re grumpy when you¡¯re tired.¡± ¡°I will kill you,¡± Julia growled through clenched teeth, struggling fruitlessly against the iron grip holding her in place. Brenna smirked, let her go, and nudged her lightly back into the chair as if she were an unruly cat instead of a fully grown, very pissed off human. ¡°No, you won¡¯t,¡± she said breezily. ¡°You¡¯ll sit down, eat your damn food, and get some rest.¡± She stretched her arms over her head, utterly at ease. ¡°We leave tomorrow.¡± Julia¡¯s hands clenched into fists, her face burning with frustration¡ª but before she could open her mouth, Melissa, still chewing on a piece of roasted chicken, reached over and patted her shoulder. ¡°Let it go, Jules,¡± she said, barely holding back laughter. ¡°She played us. We got played.¡± ¡°We cleaned her house,¡± Julia hissed. ¡°We cooked her dinner.¡± ¡°And now we have a clean place to sleep,¡± Melissa pointed out. ¡°So, you know. Could be worse. Remember the scorpions?¡± Julia seethed. ¡°You¡¯re enjoying this.¡± ¡°So much,¡± Melissa admitted, grinning. Brenna, still stretched out with absolutely zero shame, took another long drag from her pipe. She exhaled a lazy cloud of smoke. ¡°You two are fun.¡± Julia stabbed a parsnip with her fork so violently that it cracked the plate. The floor was hard. The blankets were thin. But after the absolute nonsense of the day, Julia and Melissa were too exhausted to care. They had been given a space near the hearth, a worn but clean pile of blankets and furs laid out haphazardly. The fire crackled softly, casting flickering light against the wooden walls, the scent of burning herbs still lingering in the air. Melissa flopped onto her back, arms tucked behind her head, sighing deeply. ¡°You think she¡¯s actually gonna help, or is she just dragging us along for fun?¡± Julia exhaled sharply, staring at the ceiling. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± A pause. Then Melissa, smirking: ¡°You still mad?¡± Julia rolled onto her side, scowling at her. ¡°Go to sleep, Melissa.¡± Chapter 10 The road to Ismay¡¯s Landing was cold and quiet, the afternoon sky overcast, heavy with the promise of yet more spring rain. The wind carried the sharp scent of damp earth, rustling through the bare branches of trees lining the path. It was the kind of silence that felt poised, expectant, like the world was holding its breath. Julia sat stiffly in the saddle, her posture rigid with lingering frustration. Last week¡¯s bullshit still gnawed at her, and Brenna hadn¡¯t gotten any better¡ª more pointless chores, wry quips, and that infernal smoke. Melissa, of course, seemed infuriatingly unbothered, riding behind her with easy confidence, her arms loosely wrapped around Julia¡¯s waist for balance. Brenna, as always, looked half-asleep. She was slouched lazily atop her horse, one hand loosely holding the reins, the other bringing her pipe to her lips. Gorgoloth had taken to riding her shoulders for the trip¡ª more room, Julia supposed¡ª and despite her annoyance with the spider she felt the betrayal acutely. ¡°Almost there,¡± Melissa muttered, shifting slightly in the saddle. ¡°Think Brandon¡¯s lost his mind yet?¡± ¡°He¡¯s probably fine,¡± Julia replied, though doubt curled at the edges of her mind. Then, as they rounded the final bend in the road, something made her breath catch. A figure, thin and barefoot, was wandering aimlessly down the path ahead. Melissa tensed, her grip on Julia tightening instinctively. ¡°Is that¡ª¡± ¡°Annemarie,¡± Julia whispered. The name barely made it past her lips. Annemarie¡¯s hair was unbound, tangled in wild knots around her face. She wore nothing but a thin nightgown, the fabric damp from the mist hanging in the air, clinging to her skin like a second layer. Her bare feet moved over the uneven road without hesitation, stepping lightly over jagged rocks and damp earth as if she didn¡¯t feel them at all. Her eyes¡ª glassy, unfocused¡ª stared straight ahead, her face slack with eerie detachment. She moved slowly, deliberately, her steps careful but unnatural, like she was being pulled forward by something unseen. A cold spike of fear lodged itself in Julia¡¯s chest. ¡°Annemarie?¡± she called, urgency sharpening her voice. No response. Melissa swung off the horse first, boots hitting the ground with a dull thud. She took a cautious step forward, holding out her hands. ¡°Anne? Hey, you with us?¡± Annemarie didn¡¯t react. She didn¡¯t slow, didn¡¯t blink, didn¡¯t acknowledge them in the slightest. Melissa¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Okay, yeah, I don¡¯t like that.¡± Brenna, ever calm, exhaled through her nose and dismounted with far less urgency, brushing stray ash from her sleeve. ¡°She¡¯s not awake,¡± she said simply. Julia turned sharply. ¡°What do you mean, not awake?¡± Brenna ignored her. Taking the pipe from her lips, she exhaled one last lazy swirl of smoke before lifting her free hand. A pulse of energy rippled outward¡ª invisible, but Julia felt it. It prickled at her skin, low and heavy like the hum of distant thunder. Annemarie stopped mid-step. Her body went rigid, frozen in place by whatever Brenna had just done. Melissa jerked back. ¡°The hell did you just¡ª¡± ¡°Stopped her from walking off a cliff,¡± Brenna said dryly, already sticking her pipe back between her teeth. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡± At that moment, hoofbeats thundered up the path behind them. Julia turned just in time to see Brandon, Beryon, Musia, and Gwri riding hard toward them, their faces carved from a mix of relief and alarm. Brandon barely waited for his horse to slow before throwing himself from the saddle. He hit the ground running, eyes locked on Annemarie, the raw panic on his face enough to make Julia¡¯s stomach twist. ¡°What happened?!¡± he demanded, breathless. ¡°Found her sleepwalking down the road,¡± Melissa said, crossing her arms. ¡°Not her best look.¡± Brandon¡¯s jaw tightened as he stepped closer. His hands pressed against Annemarie¡¯s clammy skin, fingers brushing over her wrists, her face, checking for¡ª what? A fever? Some sign of life beyond the eerily slow rise and fall of her chest? ¡°Anne,¡± he murmured, voice low, urgent. ¡°Come on, wake up.¡± Nothing. Not even a flicker of recognition. Beryon frowned deeply, dismounting. His heavy boots pressed into the damp earth as he approached, his expression grim. ¡°This isn¡¯t normal.¡± ¡°No shit,¡± Melissa muttered. Gwri crouched beside Annemarie, their sharp eyes scanning her face, their fingers hovering over her pulse. ¡°She¡¯s breathing steadily. No sign of struggle, no injuries. But whatever¡¯s happening, it¡¯s not natural.¡± Brenna snorted, stepping past them, already relighting her pipe with a flick of her fingers. ¡°Yeah, we got that,¡± she muttered around the stem, tone bordering on boredom. ¡°Now can we stop gawking and get her inside?¡± Brandon¡¯s fingers tightened around Annemarie¡¯s wrist, his shoulders taut with barely restrained fear. His thumb brushed over her skin, as if willing her to react, to move, to be there in a way she clearly wasn¡¯t. Julia swallowed hard. She had never seen him look this scared. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Brandon exhaled, jaw clenched. His voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet but resolute. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s get her home.¡±
The house was full. The moment Julia stepped inside, she was hit by the sheer press of bodies packed into the already cramped space. The low murmur of conversation filled the air, punctuated by hushed whispers and the occasional sniffle. Neighbors, friends, concerned townsfolk¡ª half of Ismay¡¯s Landing, apparently¡ª had crammed themselves into the room, their faces tight with worry as they whispered among themselves. The heat of so many people in one space made the room feel stifling, a stark contrast to the cold outside. The scent of damp wool, woodsmoke, and too many bodies lingered thick in the air, mingling with the sharp, medicinal tang of whatever poultices had been used on Annemarie. Julia and Melissa exchanged glances. ¡°Since when has Brandon had this many friends?¡± Melissa muttered, eyeing the crowd with suspicion. ¡°Apparently since we left,¡± Julia murmured, just as baffled. Near the hearth, Brandon stood with his arms crossed, exhaustion carved deep into the lines of his face. He looked wrecked¡ª his dark curls were messier than usual, his posture rigid with barely contained frustration, and his clothes were wrinkled like he hadn¡¯t taken the time to change in days. His gaze flickered to them briefly, relief evident, but he made no move to say anying¡ª too focused, too tired. And more than that, he looked deeply irritated by the sheer number of people pressing into his personal space. Melissa, never one to waste time, clapped her hands together loudly. ¡°Alright, everybody out.¡± The crowd hesitated. ¡°She¡¯s not dead,¡± Melissa continued, her voice cutting through the murmurs like a knife. ¡°She¡¯s just possessed, or cursed, or something equally awful and we¡ª¡± she gestured to herself, Julia, and Brenna, ¡°have it covered.¡± Some of the neighbors bristled at the bluntness, a few older women huffing indignantly, but most of them took the hint. Slowly, they began filtering through the door, casting lingering, worried glances at Annemarie¡¯s motionless form. Melissa waved them along impatiently. ¡°Go on. You can gawk at her when she¡¯s conscious again.¡± The last lingering neighbor finally shut the door behind them, leaving the house in blessed silence. Brenna, ever unfazed, took a slow glance around, then promptly flopped into the chair near Annemarie¡¯s bedside. She stretched her legs out and exhaled a long, lazy breath. ¡°Well,¡± she drawled, utterly unbothered. ¡°let¡¯s figure out what¡¯s wrong with your girl.¡± Brandon sat cross-legged on the bed beside Annemarie, his knuckles white where he gripped her hand. The dim firelight cast deep shadows across his face, making the exhaustion and worry even more pronounced. ¡°She¡¯s been like this since we got here,¡± he said, voice rough. ¡°At first, it was just trances. She¡¯d space out, whisper things we didn¡¯t understand¡ª something about Byfox, Tormevi, and Callista¡ª but she always came back.¡± Brenna nodded thoughtfully. ¡°And then?¡± ¡°Then she stopped coming back,¡± Brandon admitted hoarsely, his fingers tightening around Annemarie¡¯s limp hand. ¡°She just... stayed gone.¡± Brenna hummed, sharp eyes flickering over Annemarie¡¯s still form. ¡°And you said she wandered off before?¡± ¡°Twice,¡± Beryon confirmed from the corner of the room, his arms crossed. He had the same grim expression as the rest of them. ¡°Every time, she took the same route. Always toward the main road, heading west.¡± ¡°So she¡¯s being drawn somewhere,¡± Julia muttered, her mind already working through possibilities. Brenna made a noncommittal sound, finally shifting forward. She reached out, pressing two fingers gently against Annemarie¡¯s temple. The room fell silent. Julia didn¡¯t know what she expected to happen¡ª maybe a flicker of movement, maybe a reaction, something¡ª but Annemarie remained completely still. Brenna¡¯s expression remained unreadable, but something about the way her brows knit together set Julia¡¯s teeth on edge. The silence stretched. Then Brenna exhaled sharply, pulling her hand back. ¡°Oh,¡± she said, far too calmly. ¡°That¡¯s not good.¡± Brandon¡¯s stomach dropped. His grip on Annemarie¡¯s hand tightened. ¡°What does that mean?¡± Brenna rubbed the bridge of her nose, sighing like someone who had just realized they were about to deal with a massive headache. ¡°Means your girl isn¡¯t just sick. She¡¯s got an al¨¢nder.¡± Melissa blinked. ¡°A what now?¡± ¡°An al¨¢nder,¡± Brenna repeated. ¡°A magical soul bond. A really strong one.¡± Julia¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°That¡¯s... rare, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Extremely,¡± Brenna said. She leaned back in her chair, pipe between her fingers. ¡°Most people sever any potential bonds when kids are born. But nobility doesn¡¯t. They let it linger because the ritual hinders magical ability. No ritual, stronger magic.¡± Brandon looked between them, frustration mounting. ¡°So you¡¯re telling me Annemarie¡¯s soul is attached to someone else¡¯s?¡± ¡°Oh, it¡¯s more than attached,¡± Brenna said dryly. She exhaled a slow stream of smoke. ¡°It¡¯s tangled. And since no one ever cut that bond, it¡¯s festered.¡± Gwri¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Then who is she bonded to?¡± Brenna sighed, tilting her head back. ¡°It should be easy. Find the al¨¢nder, problem solved. But no, that¡¯s the part that¡¯s not great.¡± Julia¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Brenna.¡± Brenna tapped her fingers against the table, then finally¡ª finally¡ª answered. ¡°Callista Nazenne.¡± The room fell dead silent. Brandon¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Who?¡± Julia¡¯s stomach twisted. ¡°Duchess of Byfox,¡± Brenna continued. ¡°Or she would have been. Two years ago, she died with her family.¡± Melissa groaned, dragging a hand down her face. ¡°Oh, come on. Can¡¯t anything be simple?¡± ¡°Guess not,¡± Brenna said. ¡°Because she definitely didn¡¯t die¡ª but the Mirrorwood Curse probably took her, instead. Either way, that bond is still active. And now that Annemarie¡¯s here, in Aleria instead of Earth, it¡¯s trying to drag them back together.¡± Brandon¡¯s grip on Annemarie¡¯s hand turned vice-like. His face was blank, but Julia could see the fear creeping in, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. ¡°And if we keep them apart?¡± he asked, voice quiet. Brenna¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°It¡¯ll keep festering.¡± She rolled her pipe between her fingers, watching the embers glow. ¡°It¡¯s already forcing Annemarie towards Callista. If it gets worse, it¡¯ll destroy her.¡± A heavy silence settled over the room. Melissa let out a long breath, rubbing her temples. ¡°This is so above my pay grade.¡± Julia exhaled sharply, her mind already piecing things together, turning over possibilities, looking for solutions. ¡°Then we find Callista.¡± Brandon turned to her, jaw tight. ¡°You want to track down someone who¡¯s either dead or cursed?¡± ¡°Not dead!¡± Brenna clarified. ¡°What other option do we have?¡± Julia snapped. ¡°If we don¡¯t, Annemarie dies.¡± Brandon looked down at Annemarie¡¯s still face, his expression unreadable. The flickering firelight made the shadows beneath his eyes seem deeper, more hollow. He wasn¡¯t just worried¡ª he was terrified. But when he looked up, there was no hesitation. ¡°We find her,¡± he said quietly. ¡°Whatever it takes.¡± Intermezzo Annemarie woke abruptly, her lungs dragging in the air like she had just surfaced from the depths of the ocean. The first thing she registered was the quiet. Not the suffocating, dream-heavy silence that had wrapped around her for what felt like months, pressing in on all sides, thick and unmoving. This was real, waking silence¡ª the soft creak of wood shifting in the morning air, the faint rustle of fabric as she stirred, the low, steady sound of someone breathing nearby. The cottage was dimly lit, early morning light filtering through the wooden shutters in fractured beams, cutting through the dust motes that drifted lazily in the air. The smell of firewood, faintly burnt herbs, and something sharper¡ª Brandon¡¯s soap, maybe¡ª lingered in the space. The warmth of blankets clung to her skin, the imprint of sleep still pressed into her limbs. But her body felt... light. Not in the way fever made her light, not like floating in the slow, dragging haze of exhaustion. No, the heat was gone. The fever that had held her hostage, that had kept her trapped in an endless, suffocating fog, was just¡ª gone. Or rather, it had been replaced. Not by relief. Not by exhaustion. By something else. A pulling sensation, deep in her chest. Not painful, not sharp. Just present. Constant. Like an invisible thread had wrapped itself around her ribs. Tugging. Not hard, but insistently. She wasn¡¯t surprised to see Brandon sitting beside her. He looked awful. His usual composure was nowhere to be found¡ª his hair was unruly, his clothes rumpled, and there were shadows beneath his eyes so deep they looked bruised. He sat hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees, his expression hovering somewhere between exhaustion and relief as he watched her stir. ¡°You¡¯re awake,¡± he breathed, rubbing a hand down his face, voice thick with something she couldn¡¯t quite name. ¡°Finally.¡± Annemarie swallowed against the dryness in her throat. ¡°Apparently.¡± She pushed herself upright, fully expecting her limbs to protest¡ª to feel weak and disconnected, like her body wasn¡¯t hers anymore. But they didn¡¯t. She was steady. Her muscles didn¡¯t ache. Her heartbeat wasn¡¯t frantic. Her mind wasn¡¯t fogged. Her body felt fine. That was wrong. Something had changed. She already knew why. She met Brandon¡¯s gaze, searching it for confirmation. ¡°We¡¯re leaving soon, aren¡¯t we?¡± He hesitated, just for a second. But then he nodded. ¡°Yeah.¡± Annemarie exhaled slowly, the pulling sensation in her chest growing stronger. She barely noticed the way her body leaned forward, like her muscles had already decided to move¡ª like something inside her already knew the direction it needed to go. West. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
The others were waiting outside. The air was crisp with the lingering chill of morning, dew still clinging to the grass beneath Annemarie¡¯s bare feet as she stepped onto the worn wooden threshold. The scent of damp earth and woodsmoke filled her lungs, grounding her. Melissa stood closest, adjusting the straps of her pack, rolling her shoulders like she was warming up for a fight. The motion was restless, her fingers flexing against the leather as though she needed something¡ª anything¡ª to do with her hands. Her usual smirk was absent, replaced by a thin, tense line of determination. Julia stood a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest, her expression carefully neutral. Too careful. Her stance was stiff and controlled, but Annemarie knew her well enough to recognize the storm brewing beneath the surface. She wasn¡¯t just thinking¡ª she was calculating. Running through every possible outcome, every risk, every reason this was a terrible idea. But she wasn¡¯t saying anything. And near the edge of the group, standing just far enough away to seem casual, was a stranger. Annemarie took her in immediately. Black hair so dark it was almost blue, piercing grey eyes, a lean, almost lazy stance that somehow still radiated predatory awareness. She wasn¡¯t just standing there¡ª she was watching, appraising, as if she could read the weight of Annemarie¡¯s soul just by looking. A slow curl of smoke escaped from the long wooden pipe resting between her fingers. The woman exhaled, watching Annemarie with mild curiosity. Like a cat observing something that had yet to prove worthy of hunting. And she had pointed ears. ¡°Well,¡± the elf drawled, tilting her head slightly. ¡°You actually got up. That¡¯s a good start.¡± Brandon sighed beside her. ¡°Annemarie, this is Brenna Siulin. She¡¯s¡ª¡± ¡°A curious tagalong,¡± Brenna cut in, smirking. ¡°If you¡¯re going to go traipsing into cursed lands, might as well bring someone who knows things.¡± Annemarie stared at her, gaze flicking down to her hands¡ª faint magical wards tattooed along her fingers, half-hidden beneath the ash-smudged skin. ¡°You¡¯re like me,¡± she blurted. Brenna tilted her head slightly, taking another slow drag from her pipe. ¡°Something like that. But no¡ª not like you. Few are.¡± But Annemarie knew. The air around Brenna was off¡ª not unnatural, not threatening, but heavy. Magic clung to her, not just in the symbols inked into her skin, but in the way she moved, the way she existed. It wasn¡¯t just talent, it was something older. Something dangerous. ¡°Nice to meet you,¡± Annemarie said carefully. Brenna¡¯s smirk deepened. ¡°Oh, we¡¯ll see about that.¡± A low sigh broke through the exchange as Beryon stepped forward, his expression set with something more serious than his usual measured calm. His brown eyes flickered over each of them, lingering on Annemarie. The weight in his gaze was unmistakable¡ª this wasn¡¯t just a warning. ¡°Before you go,¡± he said, his voice even. ¡°there¡¯s something you need to understand.¡± The group fell quiet. The wind stirred the leaves above them, carrying the distant scent of rain. Beryon¡¯s gaze held Annemarie¡¯s, steady and unyielding. ¡°Callista Nazenne has faced tremendous odds. No ordinary noble girl could survive what she has doubtlessly survived. ¡° Annemarie¡¯s fingers twitched slightly, but she didn¡¯t look away. ¡°She is either cursed,¡± Beryon continued, ¡°or something worse. If you find her, be ready for that.¡± Annemarie nodded once. ¡°I know.¡± Gwri, standing just beside Beryon, exhaled sharply. They rubbed a hand over their face before leveling Annemarie with a searching look. ¡°Steel yourself, Annemarie Bennett. You have not faced the worst of it yet.¡± Annemarie closed her eyes for half a second, inhaling deeply. The pull in her chest remained constant¡ª steady, insistent, tugging her forward. As if some unseen thread had already been tied too tightly around her ribs to ever be cut. She opened her eyes. ¡°Yeah,¡± she said quietly. ¡°I understand.¡± Chapter 11 The farther west they traveled, the clearer Annemarie¡¯s visions became. At first it was just fragments¡ª blurred shapes, muffled words, flashes of movement. Then came the thoughts. Not hers. Callista¡¯s. Disjointed, but urgent. Images of twisting black trees, of cold air biting at her skin, of something moving in the dark. And above all¡ª the sensation of fighting. Of clawing, resisting, pushing back against something hungry and endless. It wasn¡¯t fear. It was defiance. Callista wasn¡¯t running. She was holding the line. Annemarie tightened her grip on the reins as they rode, her heart hammering. They had no idea what they were walking into. The feeling settled deep in Annemarie¡¯s bones, a cold certainty that gnawed at her with every mile. The further they rode, the less the visions felt like mere glimpses. They were sharpening, crystallizing into something more tangible, more insistent. The trees around them¡ª normal, living things¡ª began to feel like echoes of something darker. A warning, a threshold they had yet to cross. Callista¡¯s thoughts weren¡¯t just impressions anymore. They carried weight, intent. I will not fall. The words rang through Annemarie¡¯s mind, unbidden. It wasn¡¯t Callista speaking to her, not exactly. But it was something close. She inhaled sharply, trying to push back against the sensation, trying to remember where she was: on horseback, in Aleria, with Melissa and Brandon beside her. But the weight of the visions didn¡¯t care about reality. They pressed forward. More images. More thoughts. A flash of steel catching dim, unnatural light. The taste of blood on her tongue, sharp and metallic. The scent of damp earth, thick with rot. And a presence. Not seen, not fully known, but felt. Something ancient, patient. Waiting. Annemarie clenched her jaw, focusing on the rhythmic pounding of hooves against the dirt road. She forced herself to stay present, but the connection was impossible to sever. Callista¡¯s breathless exhaustion. The sting of sweat and grime in her eyes. The unyielding determination in her stance as she faced down the creeping darkness at the edge of her vision. The line she held¡ª was it physical? A boundary? A city wall? Or was it something more ephemeral? Annemarie didn¡¯t know. But she knew one thing: If Callista fell, there would be nothing to stop whatever was coming.
The road through Lolinglas was long, winding westward through dense forests and rolling hills, the scent of damp earth and pine thick in the air. It was quiet, save for the occasional distant chatter of birds or the rustling of unseen animals moving through the underbrush. They had been traveling for two days now, their pace steady but cautious. The land here was largely untouched, the few homes they had passed rural and self-sustaining. And yet, there was an underlying tension beneath the peace¡ª a sense that, somewhere ahead, the world was not as it should be. Annemarie could feel it. She rode at the front of the group, her posture relaxed but her body constantly adjusting. Her hands lightly gripped the reins as if she were responding to a rhythm that no one else could hear. The pull westward hadn¡¯t weakened; if anything, it had grown stronger. She had stopped fighting it. The trees loomed larger as they progressed, their branches thick and tangled, casting dappled shadows across the worn dirt path. The undergrowth had grown denser, shifting from the familiar greens and browns of early spring to something wilder, untamed. The light filtered through the canopy in uneven patterns, playing tricks on the eyes, making movement difficult to track. More than once, Annemarie caught the flicker of something at the edges of her vision¡ª a trick of the light, perhaps, or something else. Melissa yawned loudly behind her. ¡°This is boring.¡± ¡°We¡¯re traveling through open roads,¡± Julia said, rolling her eyes. ¡°What exactly were you expecting? Bandits? Highwaymen? Random murder?¡± ¡°Gorgoloth is bored, too,¡± Melissa muttered. Her giant spider companion had hissed at Annemarie when they first met. Brandon shook his head. ¡°You say that now. Give it another day¡ª something will go wrong.¡± ¡°Optimism,¡± Brenna said, taking a slow drag from her pipe as she rode beside them. ¡°Love to see it.¡± Julia shot her a look. ¡°You don¡¯t seem very concerned.¡± Brenna exhaled smoke, shrugging one shoulder. ¡°Not my first long journey. This part¡¯s the easy bit¡ª just wait until we cross the mountains.¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± Melissa asked. ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± ¡°Because,¡± Brenna said simply, ¡°we¡¯re about to leave civilization behind.¡± A gust of wind stirred the treetops, carrying with it the faint smell of something distant. Something foreign. The road ahead stretched into the unknown, the hills growing steeper, the forests denser. There were no milestones, no waymarkers, only the endless path winding toward whatever lay beyond. The inn sat at the base of the mountain, tucked between dense trees and the winding road that led upward into the peaks. It was small, old, but well-maintained. Its wooden beams were darkened with time and its windows glowed warmly against the deepening twilight. The scent of pine and damp earth lingered in the crisp evening air, mingling with the faintest trace of woodsmoke curling from the stone chimney. A simple wooden sign, worn smooth by years of wind and rain, swung gently from iron brackets above the door. The lettering was barely legible in the fading light. Inside, the air smelled of hearth smoke and fresh bread, a welcome change from the damp chill of the road. A large stone fireplace dominated one wall, the fire within casting flickering gold across the low-beamed ceiling. The wooden floor was scuffed and uneven, softened by woven rugs that had seen years of use. A handful of sturdy tables sat empty, their surfaces polished to a dull sheen, and the chairs¡ª each mismatched in style¡ª had been carefully arranged as if in anticipation of company. Along one wall, a narrow counter displayed a few bottles of locally brewed ale and a basket of fresh mushrooms. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. The innkeepers¡ª a kind, elderly couple named Garet and Linde¡ª were nearly beside themselves with joy at the arrival of guests. They fussed over the group immediately, ushering them inside with delighted murmurs about how rare travelers were this time of year. Linde, her gray-streaked hair tucked into a neat bun, clapped her hands together as she took them in. Her eyes were alight with genuine excitement. ¡°Oh, bless the Saints, it''s been weeks since we¡¯ve had proper company!¡± she exclaimed, reaching up instinctively to brush a bit of dust from Julia¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Come in, come in, you must be chilled through¡ª Garet, stoke the fire!¡± Her husband, a broad-shouldered man with thinning white hair, gave an obliging grunt and tossed another log into the hearth. Sparks snapped into the air. ¡°Poor weather we¡¯ve had lately¡ª the cold just won¡¯t let up this year.¡± His voice was a rumble, thick with the accent of the mountain folk. ¡°Lucky you¡¯re making the trip now. A couple o¡¯ weeks back, the pass was still snowed over.¡± Linde nodded fervently, already bustling toward the counter. ¡°And you must be starving. We¡¯ve got fish from the river¡ª just caught this morning! And fresh greens, too¡ª oh, you¡¯ll need beds, too, I hope?¡± There was no need to ask. The warmth of the inn, the scent of roasting herbs already wafting from the kitchen, and the simple, unquestioning hospitality of the couple made the decision for them. Dinner was simple but satisfying: roasted whole fish, seasoned lightly with herbs. Tender spring vegetables and thick slices of rustic bread. The fish flaked apart easily beneath her fork, its skin crisp and golden, the delicate aroma of rosemary and thyme rising with the steam. The vegetables¡ª baby carrots, wild greens, roasted mushrooms, and small, buttery potatoes¡ª had been cooked just enough to retain their freshness. Their natural flavors were enhanced with little more than salt and a drizzle of oil. The bread was dense and warm, the kind that took effort to tear apart. Its crust crackled under Annemarie¡¯s fingers before giving way to a soft, pillowy center. It was a far cry from the hurried meals of dried rations on the road, and Annemarie savored every bite. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, filling the dining hall with a gentle, steady heat. Around her, the others ate in comfortable silence, the kind that only came when hunger and exhaustion had worn away any need for conversation. Even Melissa and Brenna, who always seemed to have a quip at the ready, was content to simply eat, her eyes half-lidded with drowsy satisfaction. Garet and Linde watched them with pleased expressions, clearly delighted to have guests again. Linde occasionally bustled over to refill their cups with fresh springwater or press another hunk of bread into their hands, her joy as tangible as the warmth of the fire. They even set out a few fish for Gorgoloth, hardly blinking as the giant spider tore into the meat with hearty satisfaction. By the time the plates were empty and stomachs full, weariness had settled deep in Annemarie¡¯s bones. A slow, creeping heaviness that made every movement feel sluggish. They took three rooms for the night¡ª one for Julia and Melissa, one for Brenna, and one for Annemarie and Brandon. As they climbed the narrow wooden staircase to their room, she could feel the exhaustion creeping up now that they had stopped moving. The steps creaked beneath their feet, the sound softened by the thick, handwoven runner stretched along the hallway. The scent of the meal still clung to the air, mingling with the faint traces of lavender and beeswax. The room itself was small but clean, the furniture simple and sturdy. The bed, covered in crisp, starched sheets, looked impossibly soft. Its quilt, thick and worn with age, was embroidered with a repeating pattern of curling vines. A modest wooden dresser stood against the far wall, its surface bare except for a small ceramic washbasin and a neatly folded cloth. A single oil lamp on the bedside table cast flickering shadows against the walls, lending the space an almost dreamlike quality. The flame wavered slightly in the draft from the window, its glow painting long, golden streaks across the floor. Outside, the wind whispered through the trees, rustling the branches just beyond the glass. It was quiet here. A stillness that felt safe. For the first time since they¡¯d arrived in Aleria, Annemarie let herself breathe. Brandon set his pack down, stretching his arms above his head. ¡°Feels weird, huh?¡± Annemarie looked over at him, brow quirked. ¡°What does?¡± ¡°Being somewhere... comfortable.¡± He gave a small, almost sheepish smile. ¡°Not worrying about what to eat, what to say, somebody almost dying.¡± She let out a quiet laugh, crossing the room to sit on the bed. ¡°Yeah. Sorry about that, by the way.¡± Brandon exhaled, running a hand through his hair, coming to sit next to her. ¡°I don¡¯t blame you. Or anyone, honestly, not anymore.¡± He leaned over to press a kiss to her cheek. ¡°But I missed you. When was the last time we had any time to just... be us?¡± That caught her off-guard. He was right. They had spent every moment in Aleria focused on survival, figuring out where to go next, how to navigate this strange world. Or unconscious. But before that¡ª before Aleria¡ª they had been a couple. A regular, stupid couple who went on dates, who stayed up too late talking about nothing. Who had the freedom to be close without the weight of an entire world pressing down on them. Annemarie shifted, moving her knees to rest on either side of Brandon¡¯s hips, pushing him back further onto the bed. ¡°I missed you, too,¡± she admitted softly. ¡°I miss us.¡± Brandon met her gaze, something flickering in his expression. ¡°Annemarie, I¡ª¡± He apparently decided against whatever he was going to say and lifted his chin, lips meeting with the tug of, for all intents and purposes, weeks apart. His mouth opened easily under hers, tongue slipping into her mouth, and she sighed into him. They had been together for years. but it could have just as easily been their first kiss. Things grew heated slowly, easily, comfortably, like slipping into a warm bath. Annemarie moved her hips over his, pressing him down onto the quilt, kiss never breaking. She moaned as she felt him harden, grinding atop him more insistently. ¡°You sure you¡¯re good for this?¡± Brandon gasped, throwing his head back as she sucked at a pulse point. Annemarie let go with a smacking sound. ¡°I know my own limits.¡± She sat up, untucking his shirt and slipping her hands beneath the fabric. Finding his nipples with unhurried precision, she traced them lightly with her fingertips before pinching a bud. Brandon surged up to kiss her again, unlacing her top to free her breasts, breaking the kiss to bend and take one heavy tip into his mouth. She writhed in his lap, moving her hips in a way that made him ache. Once her tits were pink with young bruises, she tore away from him and stood. Yanking the blouse over her head and shoving every part of her skirt and undergarments down, she knelt at the side of the bed between Brandon¡¯s knees. ¡°Scoot forward, love,¡± she said, voice thick. ¡°Let me suck your cock.¡± Brandon actually whimpered. Unlacing his trousers with trembling fingers, he pulled himself out and watched with breathless anticipation as Annemarie licked a stripe up his dick. She lavished the base with attention, fingering his balls before lifting to take the tip into her mouth. They had come together maybe hundreds of times over the years, and by now Annemarie knew just how to play his body like an instrument. She could coax the most exquisite sounds from his throat, bringing him nearly to the precipice before backing off. By the time she was finished with him, her throat was raw, her jaw sore, but he was absolutely wrecked. Hair mussed and cheeks flushed, she thought it a damn sight better than the utter terror and dark circles that had been present all too often lately. He¡¯d cared for her. He¡¯d stayed, though the visions and fever were all she could offer in return. She pushed the thought from her mind. ¡°I need to be inside of you,¡± Brandon begged, voice ragged. ¡°Please, love. I¡¯ve been good.¡± ¡°So good,¡± she replied, crawling up his body to press a kiss to his throat. ¡°A good boy like you deserves a reward.¡± He cried out as she positioned him and sheathed him inside her with one stroke. She paused¡ª letting him adjust to the feeling, a little bit of mercy lest he spend himself too quickly¡ª then began to move. Slowly, at first, just little rocks back and forth, then faster. Even still, he didn¡¯t last long. With a shout he came, pulsing deep against her walls. But before she could move, he rolled them over, pulled out, and set his mouth to work. The tables turned, and before she fully realized what had happened, she was a soaked mess. Licking up the juices, two fingers fucking deep within her, he grinned as she gripped the quilt with white-knuckled pleasure. She came with a last gush of fluid against his face, and he swallowed greedily. Later, wrapped in the quiet of the night, Annemarie rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His fingers traced idle patterns against her back, his breathing slow and even. ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out,¡± he murmured, voice drowsy but certain. ¡°Whatever happens.¡± She closed her eyes, letting herself believe it, just for tonight. ¡°Yeah,¡± she whispered. ¡°We will.¡± Chapter 12 The mountains stretched wide and bright, their snow-dusted peaks piercing the sky, framed against a brilliant blue expanse. The morning sun cast long golden streaks over the slopes, warming the frost-covered grass, and as they climbed higher the air turned cool and crisp, carrying the clean scent of pine and stone. Shadows stretched long across the ridges, pooling in the crevices where the sun had yet to reach, and far below, ribbons of mist curled through valleys like silver veins threading through the landscape. The world felt untouched by war or magic. They could have just as easily been in the Alps. The weight of history and prophecy, of visions and uncertainty faded beneath the vastness of the sky. Up here, there were no ruins of fallen kingdoms, no traces of curses woven into the land¡ª only the mountains, ancient and eternal, standing impervious to the struggles of those who moved beneath them. Melissa, arms stretched over her head, took a deep breath. ¡°Okay, yeah. I get why people go skiing and hiking now.¡± Julia smirked. ¡°You didn¡¯t before?¡± ¡°I mean, I figured the mountains would be colder. Worse.¡± ¡°Just wait until we¡¯re higher up,¡± Brenna said lazily, adjusting the saddle bag on her horse. ¡°Then we¡¯ll see how much you like them.¡± The path wound up through the valleys, past deep green meadows where herds of belled cows grazed lazily, their chimes ringing softly in the still air. The scent of wildflowers drifted on the breeze, mingling with the sharper bite of pine. Along the slopes, bright patches of purple and yellow blossoms stood out against the rocky earth. Now and then, they passed a narrow stream cutting through the hillside, its waters clear and cold, tumbling over smooth stones as it wound its way down to the valley below. But there were no people. The few cottages they passed were empty, their doors shut tight, windows dark. Signs of recent life were everywhere¡ª fresh-cut wood stacked outside, gardens still tended, laundry lines strung with gently swaying clothes¡ª but no one came out to greet them. No voices carried through the air, no distant shouts from farmers working the rocky hillside. Just silence. Brandon frowned, nudging his horse closer to Brenna. ¡°Are these abandoned?¡± ¡°Not abandoned,¡± Brenna said, studying the houses carefully. ¡°Just... temporarily left.¡± She snorted. ¡°Smart people.¡± Melissa rolled her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re really dedicated to this whole ¡®doom and gloom¡¯ thing, huh?¡± ¡°I respect people who know when to leave.¡± The wind shifted, carrying with it a faint, metallic tang¡ª so faint it could have been imagination. But Annemarie felt it, just for a moment. That strange, familiar sense of something wrong pressing at the edge of her awareness. She tightened her grip on the reins. Higher up, the mountains loomed. Waiting.
The higher they climbed, the more the world seemed to hold its breath. The trees thinned, giving way to jagged cliffs and sheer rock faces, their edges sharp against the sky. The wind cut through the ridges, colder now, carrying only the scent of stone and frost where pine had once lingered. And still, there was no sign of life. The cottages had vanished behind them, replaced by old outposts¡ª small, weathered fortifications built into the mountainside, their watchtowers standing silent and empty. Some had long since succumbed to time, their doors hanging loose, shutters missing, ivy creeping through cracks in the stone. Others looked as though their occupants had only just fled. Hearths cold but intact, chairs pulled up to empty tables. But no one had come back. Melissa broke the silence first. ¡°Okay. This is officially weird, right? It¡¯s not just me?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not just you,¡± Brandon muttered. Julia slowed her horse, glancing toward Brenna. ¡°This isn¡¯t normal, is it?¡± Brenna exhaled sharply, adjusting her grip on the reins. ¡°Depends on what you call normal. Some people just know when to leave.¡± Melissa frowned. ¡°Yeah, but why? There¡¯s no damage. No signs of a fight, no destruction. Just... empty houses. And cows.¡± Annemarie barely heard them. The pull westward, once subtle and ignorable, had become something else entirely. Here in the mountains, it thrummed beneath her skin¡ª a steady, insistent force, as if something ahead was waiting. Waiting for her. She swallowed, tightening her grip on the reins. The last time she had felt this¡ª this slow unraveling of certainty, this sense of being drawn into something larger than herself¡ª had been in Ismay¡¯s Landing, when the visions had come as flashes of memory she barely understood. But now... now she wasn¡¯t just seeing them. She was feeling them. The sting of ice-cold wind against her face. The scrape of rough stone beneath her fingertips. The weight of something unseen, pressing down on the world like the hush before a storm. Not fear. Not yet. But close. ¡°Annemarie?¡± Brandon¡¯s voice pulled her back, the concern in it grounding her. She blinked, clearing the haze from her mind, realizing the group had stopped. Ahead, the path split. One trail led steeply upward, little more than a narrow, treacherous pass carved into the rock. The other dipped down into a valley, where a dark river cut through the land, waters moving fast and deep, churning beneath the encroaching shadows. Two paths. Two choices. Annemarie barely hesitated. ¡°This one,¡± she said, nudging her horse toward the pass. The wind sharpened as they climbed, carrying with it a thin, biting chill that cut through their cloaks and set the horses shifting uneasily beneath them. The trail was narrow, little more than a jagged ribbon of stone winding up on the mountainside. There were sheer drops on one side and looming cliffs on the other. The sky stretched vast and pale overhead, the brilliant blue of the morning now tinged with streaks of silver-gray as thin clouds gathered, moving like restless ghosts. The silence deepened. Even the wind, though fierce, carried no sound beyond its own howling. No birds. No distant hum of insects. Only the rhythmic crunch of hooves against loose rock, the creak of leather saddles, the quiet rustle of fabric as they adjusted their cloaks. Brandon rode beside Annemarie, his posture tense, his eyes sweeping the cliffs above them as if expecting something to move in the craggy outcroppings. Julia followed behind, their usual chatter absent, replaced by wary glances toward the valley below where the river wound like a dark, shifting ribbon. Brenna, at the rear, let out a quiet breath. ¡°This path hasn¡¯t been used much in years. There used to be trade routes through here, back before the war.¡± She gestured toward the valley. ¡°That river leads to the old crossings¡ª faster, if you¡¯ve got boats, but dangerous this time of year. Most people took the pass when they could. Brandon glanced toward the abandoned outposts they had left behind. ¡°And now?¡± ¡°Now, no one comes this way at all,¡± Brenna murmured. The words settled heavily between them. Annemarie felt it too¡ª that absence. This wasn¡¯t just a place people had forgotten¡ª it was a place people avoided. And yet, the pull in her chest remained steady. Stronger, even. They were going the right way. The trail wound upward, steep and treacherous, forcing them to slow their pace. The horses moved carefully, their hooves sending loose pebbles skittering down the mountainside, vanishing into the mist that clung to the valley below. Then¡ª a sound. Faint. Almost imperceptible. A low, distant hum, just at the edge of hearing. Not the wind. Not the shifting of rock. Something else. Annemarie stiffened. Brandon heard it too. His hand drifted toward the sword at his side. ¡°You hear that?¡± he murmured. Melissa frowned. ¡°Hear what?¡± Another gust of wind swept through the pass, rattling loose stones and sending a shiver through the horses. The hum was gone. But the unease it left behind remained. Annemarie exhaled softly. ¡°Keep moving,¡± she said, voice low. They pressed onward, following the path higher into the mountains, the sky darkening as the first hints of storm clouds gathered above. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. The fire crackled weakly, its light flickering against the stone walls, but the abandoned cottage still felt cold. Not just from the snow outside¡ª though the wind howled like a living thing, rattling the half-rotted wooden shutters¡ª but from something deeper. Something that had settled into the bones of the place. Something that had waited. Brandon pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders, his gaze flicking toward Annemarie. ¡°You sure you¡¯re okay, love?¡± Annemarie swallowed, forcing herself to nod. The feeling of being watched hadn¡¯t gone away. If anything, it had thickened, coiling in the back of her mind like a half-formed thought, just out of reach. And then¡ª a heavy thud from above. Everyone went still. Melissa, who had been kneeling by the fire, slowly straightened. ¡°Tell me that was the wind.¡± Julia¡¯s hand was already on her knife. ¡°That wasn¡¯t the wind.¡± Another thud, followed by a slow, deliberate scraping noise, like claws against wood. Brenna exhaled sharply. ¡°The loft.¡± Before anyone could react, Gorgoloth moved. The massive spider had been resting near the hearth, his dark, hairy legs tucked beneath him, his many eyes gleaming in the firelight. Now, he skittered toward the staircase, his movements impossibly silent for something his size. ¡°Gorgoloth, wait¡ª¡± Melissa hissed, but he was already climbing. Brandon cursed under his breath and grabbed his sword. Annemarie forced herself to focus, to push past the way the air seemed heavier now. Like the whole room was holding its breath. And then¡ª silence. Gorgoloth had disappeared into the loft. Melissa clenched her fists. ¡°If he dies, I¡¯m never forgiving any of you.¡± Brandon shot her an incredulous look. ¡°If we die, I¡¯d rather you focus on that.¡± But before anyone could argue, there was a sudden sharp clicking noise from above. A chittering, rapid and unnatural. Then¡ª movement. Fast, skittering. Something big. Gorgoloth hissed. And suddenly, the whole loft shook. A heavy impact¡ª something slamming against the floorboards. Dust rained down, swirling in the firelight. And then¡ª a guttural, echoing voice. Not words. Not in any language they knew. But Annemarie understood the meaning all the same. Her blood turned to ice. Something lived in the dark. And it was angry. The fire guttered, shrinking back into itself as if recoiling from the sound. Annemarie couldn¡¯t move. Couldn¡¯t breathe. The words weren¡¯t spoken aloud¡ª not really. They rippled through her, pressing into the marrow of her bones, settling into her chest like a second heartbeat. Above them, the loft creaked, the weight of something shifting. A low, wet breath rasped through the wooden beams, heavy with decay and age. Gorgoloth hissed again¡ª sharp, warning. Then, a screech. Louder than it should have been. Too loud. It filled the space, vibrating through the walls, rattling the shutters. The sound was ancient, layered, something massive and many-voiced. Melissa surged forward. ¡°Gorgoloth!¡± Brandon caught her arm before she could charge up the stairs. ¡°Wait!¡± Another impact¡ª harder this time. The whole loft shook, dust and splinters raining down as whatever was up there moved. Gorgoloth dropped. One second he was above them¡ª then a blur of dark, hairy legs as he landed on the stone floor in a tangle of limbs, hissing violently. He scrambled upright, his many eyes wide, his fangs bared¡ª Melissa was already on him, running her hands over his body, searching for injuries. ¡°Oh my god, are you okay? Are you¡ª what was¡ª¡± The loft creaked again. A shadow spilled down the stairs. Not a shadow. A presence. A shape too large to fit the space it occupied, pressing against the edges of reality, warping it. The air shuddered around it, thick and wrong. It wasn¡¯t even fully visible¡ª just darkness given weight and purpose, moving like liquid, shifting like it wasn¡¯t bound by normal dimensions. The voice came again. Understandable, this time. YOU HAVE SEEN TOO MUCH. The fire died. The room plunged into absolute blackness. And then¡ª a sound. A slithering. Something descending the stairs. The darkness swallowed everything. For a single, suffocating moment, there was nothing¡ª no fire, no light, no outlines of their bodies. Just an endless, shifting black, thick as tar, pressing in from all sides. Then came the sound. A slow, wet slither. Something moving, something impossibly large, dragging itself down the stairs. It wasn¡¯t footsteps. It wasn¡¯t legs. It was wrong. Move. Annemarie didn¡¯t know if the voice was hers or something else¡¯s, but she listened. She threw herself sideways just as the first tendril of darkness lunged. It hit the stone floor with a sickening crack, the impact sending out a shockwave of cold so intense it burned. Brandon swore, drawing his sword in one smooth motion. The steel gleamed faintly in the swallowing dark¡ª just for a moment¡ª before the blackness surged forward again, tendril stretching, writhing, hungry. Brandon swung. The blade met resistance, but not the way it should have. It cut through something, but there was no spray of blood, no sound of tearing flesh. Instead, the darkness shuddered and recoiled, the wound sealing almost instantly, reforming like thick smoke. ¡°Shit,¡± he hissed, stepping back. The others scrambled to react. Melissa shoved Gorgoloth behind herm puffed and hissing like an angry cat. Julia struck flint against steel in a desperate attempt to relight the fire. Brenna pulled a dagger from her belt. But Annemarie felt it before any of them The weight pressing in, the overwhelming wrongness of it. This wasn¡¯t just some shadowy creature. This was something older, deeper. A fragment of something vast and consuming, something that did not belong in the world of the living. Something that wanted to take. Her hands clenched, and suddenly, she knew what to do. She didn¡¯t think. Didn¡¯t hesitate. She reached for the power thrumming beneath her skin, and it answered. A surge of light exploded outward from her fingertips¡ª bright, searing, real in a way that the darkness was not. It wasn¡¯t fire, wasn¡¯t lightning, but something older. Something fundamental. The darkness screamed. The black tendrils recoiled violently, curling away from the light like burned flesh. The shape at the top of the stairs twisted, writing, suddenly too solid, too exposed. Annemarie didn¡¯t stop. She stepped forward, pushing against the thing with every ounce of power in her veins. The light surged again, a rippling wave that shattered through the unnatural void, tearing through the darkness like sunbeams through fog. The presence reeled back, howling¡ª not in sound, but in something deeper, something that rattled her skull and burned through her thoughts. Annemarie bared her teeth. ¡°Yes.¡± The light surged a final time¡ª blinding, all-consuming. And the darkness collapsed. A final, keening wail echoed through the stone walls as the thing that had lurked in the loft dissolved, ripped apart by the force of Annemarie¡¯s magic. Shadows curled in on themselves, shrinking, breaking apart like dry leaves in the wind¡ª until, at last, there was nothing. No tendrils. No slithering presence. Just the dim glow of embers in the hearth. The fire flickered weakly back to life, casting long, shivering shadows against the walls. The room was silent. The wind howled outside. Then Melissa let out a long breath. ¡°Holy shit.¡± Brandon, still gripping his sword, looked at Annemarie, his chest rising and falling. ¡°What the fuck was that?¡± Annemarie¡¯s pulse pounded in her ears. ¡°I think I¡¯m figuring out my magic.¡± The fire burned low through the rest of the night, flickering lazily against the soot-stained stones of the hearth. No more shadows moved in the loft. No more wrongness pressed against their skin. Whatever it had been, Annemarie had destroyed it. But she didn¡¯t sleep. The others settled in one by one¡ª Brandon curled around her, Julia grumbling about the cold as she wrapped herself in her cloak. Brenna dozed with her hood pulled over her face. Melissa snored in the corner, her arms wrapped tightly around Gorgoloth, the massive spider resting his hairy legs over her protectively. Annemarie let herself breathe. The magic had quieted in her veins, but she could still feel its hum beneath her skin. Deep. Waiting. Eventually, exhaustion pulled her under.
By morning, the storm had passed. The world outside was transformed¡ª snow-covered slopes gleaming under the pale morning light, the sky an impossibly clear blue. The air was sharp and crisp, their breaths curling in the cold as they packed up, stamping warmth back into their limbs. ¡°I hate snow,¡± Melissa muttered, rubbing her hands together. ¡°I nearly froze to death, and somehow you all managed to sleep through my suffering. ¡° ¡°You snored so loudly the dead could hear you,¡± Julia said flatly, mounting her horse. Melissa scowled. ¡°Gorgoloth and I had a rough night. You wouldn¡¯t understand.¡± Gorgoloth, nestled in the folds of her cloak, twitched his legs in lazy agreement. Brandon swung himself onto his horse, shaking his head. ¡°Let¡¯s get moving before she starts monologuing.¡± They rode out. The checkpoint sat at the base of the next valley, a squat fortress built from thick Ionian stone. The dark red-and-gold banners of the occupying forces snapped in the morning wind. The road leading to it was heavily patrolled, armored soldiers watching the trail with bored, half-interested expressions, hands resting on the hilts of their weapons. Crossing from Lolinglas into Milana should have been simple. It wasn¡¯t. The guards at the main gate barely looked at their travel papers before exchanging looks¡ª quiet, knowing. ¡°Foreigners, huh?¡± the taller one mused, stroking his beard. ¡°Unusual to see so many crossing all at once. Documents seem to be in order, but.. well, there¡¯s an expedited processing fee.¡± Brandon¡¯s grip on the reins tightened. ¡°A what?¡± The shorter guard¡ª lean, sharp-eyed¡ª gave a slow smile. ¡°Little tax. Just to make sure everything is properly recorded.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not how border laws work,¡± Julia said coolly. The taller one spread his hands. ¡°Could always wait. Processing might take... oh, a day or two.¡± Melissa groaned. ¡°God, you¡¯re so bad at this. Just say you want a bribe and let us get on with our lives.¡± The guards¡¯ smiles stiffened. ¡°That¡¯s a very strong accusation,¡± the shorter one said. Melissa raised an eyebrow. ¡°Am I wrong?¡± The taller guard sighed, rubbing at his temple. ¡°Fifteen gold and you¡¯re through.¡± Brenna choked. ¡°That¡¯s a scam. Five.¡± ¡°Twelve.¡± ¡°Seven.¡± The shorter one leaned against the gate, shrugging. ¡°Ten. Welcome to Iona.¡± Annemarie watched the exchange in silence, the remnants of the magic still humming under her skin. She could feel the expectation in the air¡ª the guards sizing them up, trying to see how much they could squeeze from travelers who clearly weren¡¯t locals. She glanced at Julia, who looked about three seconds from stabbing someone. Then at Brenna, who was visibly restraining herself from rolling her eyes. Fine. Annemarie pulled her coin pouch free, counted out the coins, and flicked them toward the guards. ¡°Eight fifty. And that¡¯s generous. We cleared out a living shadow from these valleys last night, so be thankful.¡± The shorter one caught the bag, weighing it in his hand. ¡°Fine. Better you than us. Enjoy the Mirrorwood.¡± The gate creaked open. They were across the border. Chapter 13 The road stretched out westward beneath a sky heavy with clouds, the golden hues of the morning slowly giving way to the muted grays of the afternoon. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and distant rain, the wind stirring lazily through the open fields. Shadows stretched long beneath the rolling hills, their edges softened by the shifting light. It was still beautiful here¡ª the land sloping gently into meadows flecked with wildflowers, the forest standing quiet and undisturbed, leaves whispering in the breeze. The rivers ran clear, threading through the landscape like veins of silver, and the air was crisp, untouched by the creeping rot of the Mirrorwood. Birds still called from the trees, and the occasional fox or deer darted through the brush. On the surface, it looked like any other stretch of unspoiled countryside. But despite its beauty, the land felt empty. Not dead. Not yet. But abandoned. The villages they passed through bore the weight of quiet neglect¡ª clusters of stone houses with thatched roofs, their walls softened by creeping ivy and the slow reclamation of nature. Some stood entirely hollow, their doors yawning open to the wind, their interiors scattered with remnants of old lives: a wooden cradle overturned in one corner, a rusted kettle still hanging above a cold hearth, a faded tapestry sagging from its nails. Window shutters banged softly against their frames, stirred by the wind, and in one home, a single chair remained upright at a dust-covered table. Others, however, showed signs of recent passage. Not the careful mark of returning villagers, but the rough mark of transients¡ª travelers, scavengers, and those who moved through these lands searching for something better. Fire pits long burned out, footprints in the mud where no others had been, makeshift barricades where someone, at some point, had tried to make a stand before moving on. Melissa rode ahead of the group, her horse¡¯s hooves kicking loose a small stone from the path. The sound of it rattling against the dirt too loud in the heavy silence around them. She sighed, shifting in the saddle as she eyed a half-collapsed barn just off the road¡ª vines coiled through the rafters, half-swallowing the remains of an old wooden cart. ¡°Creepy, but not cursed,¡± she announced, adjusting her grip on the reins. ¡°That¡¯s a good sign.¡± ¡°For now,¡± Brenna murmured. The wind shifted, stirring dry leaves across the road, carrying with it the scent of distant rain. The horizon pressed heavy against the sky, thick with something that wasn¡¯t quite a storm. Julia tugged a worn map from her saddlebag, smoothing it out against the pommel of her horse. The parchment was creased and softened from years of use, inked lines tracing roads and rivers and marking settlements that should have been there. But they weren¡¯t. Her frown deepened as she glanced between the map and the land ahead¡ª rolling fields sloping into dense thickets of trees. No ruins. No roads. No sign that anyone had ever built anything here. ¡°This is wrong,¡± she muttered, adjusting her grip. ¡°This says there should be a village here, but¡ª¡± she gestured toward the emptiness, ¡°¡ª there¡¯s nothing.¡± Brenna snorted, shifting in her saddle as she adjusted the strap of her pack. ¡°Welcome to Milana. None of your maps are worth shit.¡± Julia shot her a look. ¡°Why?¡± Brenna exhaled sharply, nodding toward the empty land stretching out before them. ¡°Because the Mirrorwood isn¡¯t the only thing that hollowed out this country,¡± she said. ¡°Milana didn¡¯t just fall to the Curse. There was also the Cleansing.¡± She pointed toward the ruins of an old estate, its blackened remains barely visible beyond the trees. The charred bones of the structure were skeletal, crumbling stones wrapped in ivy, the windows hollow and dark. It had once been something grand¡ª large enough to belong to nobility¡ª but time and violence had worn it all away. ¡°The Cleansing didn¡¯t just take the royal family,¡± Brenna continued, her voice flat and empty of anything but fact. ¡°It wiped out entire bloodlines. Nobles, scholars, loyalists¡ª anyone tied to the House of Tormevi. The people who survived? They left. And when the Mirrorwood came, there was no one left to fight for this place. Annemarie listened in silence, her fingers tightening against the reins of her horse. She could feel it¡ª the weight of what was lost here, lingering like a breath caught in the throat of the land itself. Whoever had orchestrated this¡ª they had not left ruins to be reclaimed. Milana had been erased. As they pressed forward, the roads grew rougher, the villages¡ª abandoned and otherwise¡ª fewer. The dirt paths that had once been well-traveled were now little more than uneven tracks, fractured by time and neglect. Weeds pushed through cracks where cartwheels had once worn the earth smooth. Trees loomed taller, their branches reaching over the road like skeletal fingers. The light was filtered into shifting patterns of gold and grey. Annemarie didn¡¯t need to think about where they were going¡ª the pull was still there, steady, leading them ever westward. It curled deep in her chest, insistent yet patient, as if whatever force was guiding her knew there was no need to rush. She would come. To Callista. To whatever was waiting beyond. The air changed as they traveled, though at first, it was subtle. A quiet shift, barely noticeable beneath the steady rhythm of their horses¡¯ hooves. The scent of pine and damp earth gave way to something thinner, something dry and distant, carrying the faintest trace of rot. Not the stink of death¡ª no, this was older. A lingering wrongness, a whisper of what lay ahead. The Curse was not here, yet. But it was not far off. The land still bore the illusion of peace¡ª rolling hills, scattered forests, and slow-moving rivers reflecting the heavy gray sky. Birds still sang in the distance, and the occasional fox watched them with wary eyes. But the silence between those sounds stretched too long. The wind carried no warmth. Even Gorgoloth, who had been content to skitter ahead, hesitated now. His many dark eyes scanned the horizon, sensing something that had yet to reveal itself. The others felt it, too. Melissa¡¯s usual chatter had quieted, her hands twitching idly at the straps of her pack. Julia rode with one hand near her knife, her gaze flickering toward the treeline ever so often as if expecting movement. Brandon said nothing, but his posture had changed¡ª tense, braced, as though his body was already preparing for the inevitable. Brenna only exhaled softly, adjusting her pipe between her fingers. ¡°Not long now,¡± she murmured. The road stretched ahead, empty. Waiting. The campfire burned low, casting flickering orange light against the trees. Shadows danced along the trunks, shifting and stretching as the embers crackled. Their glow was barely enough to hold back the darkness pressing in from all sides. The night air was cool but heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth, lingering wood smoke, and the faint metallic bite of the distant river. A slow wind stirred the leaves, rustling them in uneven patterns¡ª quiet, but never quite still. Brandon sat cross-legged beside Annemarie, the firelight catching in his eyes as he worked, his fingers moving deftly as he tied a length of sturdy rope around his wrist. The other end was already fastened to hers, the rough fivers snug against her skin. He tugged at it once, testing the knot, before exhaling through his nose. Annemarie watched him, her expression unreadable, though the tension in her shoulders betrayed her frustration. ¡°This is stupid,¡± she muttered, shifting slightly against the slight pull of the rope. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Brandon didn¡¯t look up. ¡°Tell that to the part of you that keeps wandering off in the middle of the night.¡± He tightened the knot with a sharp pull. Annemarie scowled but didn¡¯t argue. He wasn¡¯t wrong. This had been the third time she had woken somewhere she didn¡¯t remember going. The first time, she had barely stepped outside camp, standing in the dark with bare feet and unfocused eyes. She hadn¡¯t even known she¡¯d moved until Melissa had nudged her awake, frowning, asking if she was sleepwalking. The second time, it had been worse. Brandon had found her nearly half a mile away, standing in the middle of an empty field, underskirt damp with morning dew. He had shaken her awake, his voice tight with panic, hands gripping her shoulders as he demanded to know what the hell she was doing. She hadn¡¯t had an answer. They weren¡¯t taking chances anymore. The rope wasn¡¯t comfortable. It wasn¡¯t meant to be. It was meant to stop her from waking up somewhere she shouldn¡¯t¡ª somewhere farther. The fire crackled. The night stretched wide around them, vast and waiting. Melissa sat by the fire, watching her cousin carefully. She wasn¡¯t just restless¡ª she was agitated. Her fingers tapped against her knee, too quick, too erratic, a quiet rhythm betraying the energy coiled beneath her skin. Her eyes darted toward the horizon, not in idle thought but with intent. Like she was waiting for something. Even when she forced herself to stay still, Melissa could see it¡ª the tension in her shoulders, the way she shifted every few moments, the way her breath came a little too fast for someone at rest. It was subtle, but Melissa had known Annemarie her entire life. And she was not right. She was itching for something. But for what? The fire crackled softly, embers floating into the cool night air. The silence stretched between them, thick and expectant, until Melissa finally broke it. She tossed a twig into the flames. ¡°You feel it, don¡¯t you?¡± Annemarie stiffened, just slightly. A tell. But she didn¡¯t look up. ¡°Feel what?¡± Melissa tilted her head, watching her closely. ¡°That pull. It¡¯s not just bringing you somewhere¡ª it¡¯s making you want to go.¡± Brandon, sitting beside Annemarie, frowned and glanced between them. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Melissa leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees, considering how best to say it. ¡°She¡¯s not just being called west. She wants to be there.¡± She hesitated, trying to find the right words, then gestured toward Annemarie¡¯s restless hands. ¡°Like¡ª like she¡¯s starving for something she doesn¡¯t even understand. Annemarie¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°That¡¯s not¡ª¡± but she didn¡¯t finish the sentence. She knew Melissa was right. It wasn¡¯t just a tug anymore¡ª wasn¡¯t just direction or fate. It was a need. Something deeper, something urgent. Something pressing against her ribs from the inside out, curling through her veins, whispering with every breath she took that she was meant to be moving. That every second she spent sitting still was wrong. The bond wasn¡¯t just leading her. It was consuming her. Brandon exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. ¡°This is getting worse.¡± Brenna, who had been lounging against a log, finally spoke. Her voice was calm, as if she¡¯d expected this all along. ¡°Of course it is,¡± she said simply. ¡°You¡¯re following a connection that¡¯s been unable to close itself for years. The closer you get, the stronger it¡¯s going to pull.¡± Annemarie swallowed hard, staring into the fire. Deep down, she knew Brenna was right, too. And a part of her¡ª a part she didn¡¯t want to acknowledge¡ª wasn¡¯t sure she wanted to fight it anymore. The fire had burned down to embers, casting the camp in a dim, wavering glow. The once-vibrant flames had retreated into quiet, smoldering coals, their soft red light barely enough to hold back the vastness of the night. Shadows stretched long across the clearing, shifting slightly with the lazy flicker of heat. The air was still, thick with the lingering scent of burned wood and earth. Somewhere beyond the trees, the wind stirred, rustling the undergrowth with a sound too quiet to disturb the silence. The distant call of a nocturnal animal echoed once, then faded. Brandon was still awake, his back pressed against a fallen log, legs stretched out in front of him. The rope binding his wrist to Annemarie¡¯s had become familiar by now, an ever-present tether between them. He had grown used to the rhythmic pull of her unconscious movements¡ª the small shifts, the restless turning, the way she sometimes exhaled too sharply. As though something in her dreams unsettled her. But tonight was different. Tonight, she wasn¡¯t just shifting. She was muttering. At first, the words were indistinct, lost in the quiet night. Brandon barely registered them, assuming she was simply dreaming. But then¡ª ¡°I don¡¯t want to go there.¡± Her fingers curled into the blanket, gripping it as though holding herself in place. Her breathing was uneven, too shallow, too quick. Brandon leaned in slightly, his voice low. ¡°Anne?¡± She didn¡¯t wake. ¡°I don¡¯t want to go there. I don¡¯t want to go there.¡± The words came again, faster now, her lips barely forming them. A whisper, but urgent. Pleading. Brandon¡¯s stomach tightened. This wasn¡¯t Callista¡¯s voice. It wasn¡¯t some memory bleeding through the bond. This was Annemarie. Her own, unfiltered thoughts, slipping free in the vulnerable space between wakefulness and dreams. She was fighting it. But she was losing. Brandon reached for her, shaking her gently. ¡°Anne. Wake up.¡± A sharp inhale¡ª then she jerked upright, her body lurching forward as though pulled by unseen hands. Her eyes were wide and unfocused, her breath catching in her throat. For a brief, terrifying second, she didn¡¯t see him. Then¡ª recognition. ¡°Brandon?¡± He let out a slow breath, his pulse still too fast. ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s me.¡± She blinked rapidly, trying to orient herself, her gaze flickering around camp as though she expected the world to have shifted in her sleep. Her fingers flezed against the rope still tied to her wrist. ¡°What¡ª¡± ¡°You were talking in your sleep,¡± Brandon said carefully. ¡°Said you didn¡¯t want to go there.¡± Annemarie stilled. The fire crackled softly, the only sound in the space between them. Then, finally, she exhaled¡ª slow, controlled. ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± she admitted. Her voice was small. Brandon¡¯s chest tightened. ¡°Then why are we?¡± Annemarie closed her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. ¡°Because I don¡¯t have a choice.¡± Brandon was quiet for a long moment, watching her in the dim firelight. The way she sat¡ª rigid, tense¡ª like if she let go for even a second, she¡¯d lose whatever fragile control she had left. The way her hands were tight in her lap, her knuckles pale, like she was holding herself together by force alone. He swallowed against the instinctive urge to tell her she did have a choice. Because she didn¡¯t. Not really. Instead, he reached down and loosened the rope binding them together. The knot slipped free easily, the slack falling between them. But he didn¡¯t move away. He didn¡¯t need the rope to stay close. ¡°I don¡¯t like this,¡± he said, voice low. ¡°Not just¡ª this place, not just the Mirrorwood, but this. The way it''s pulling at you. The way you¡¯re barely sleeping. The way you wake up and it takes you a second to remember where you are.¡± Annemarie let out a slow breath, tilting her head slightly toward the sky. The stars were dim beyond the overcast clouds, barely visible between the twisted treetops. ¡°It¡¯s different now,¡± she admitted. ¡°At first, it was just a direction. A pull. Like something was waiting. But now...¡± she hesitated. Brandon didn¡¯t press her. Finally, she met his gaze, and he hated what he saw there. Resignation. ¡°...now, I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll come back.¡± Brandon felt a cold, sharp pang in his chest. He reached for her hand before he could think better of it, his fingers closing over hers. She was freezing. ¡°Hey,¡± he said, his grip firm. ¡°Let¡¯s change that.¡± Her brows furrowed slightly. ¡°We don¡¯t just walk toward this thing blind,¡± Brandon said. ¡°We fight it. We plan. We find a way to make sure you do come back. Because you¡¯re not going at this alone, Anne.¡± Annemarie stared at him, something flickering behind her expression¡ª too raw, too much. She squeezed his hand once before pulling away, wrapping her arms around herself instead. ¡°It doesn¡¯t work like that,¡± she said quietly. Brandon exhaled, running a hand through his hair. ¡°I don¡¯t care how it works. I care that you¡¯re not walking into this just... accepting whatever¡¯s waiting for you.¡± Annemarie hesitated again, but the ways she swallowed, the way her fingers dug into the fabric of her sleeve¡ª he was getting through. Brandon leaned back against the log, watching her carefully. ¡°So,¡± he said, keeping his tone even. ¡°Tell me what¡¯s changed.¡± She didn¡¯t answer immediately. But after a moment, her shoulders slumped slightly. ¡°The bond isn¡¯t just pulling me anymore,¡± she murmured. ¡°It¡¯s... expecting me.¡± Brandon stiffened. ¡°I feel it. Like it knows I¡¯m coming.¡± She shivered, drawing her knees up slightly and resting her chin against them. ¡°Like I already belong to it.¡± Brandon¡¯s throat felt dry. ¡°You don¡¯t.¡± Annemarie closed her eyes. ¡°I hope you¡¯re right.¡± He stared at her, then at the dark treeline beyond their camp, at the way the shadows shifted just at the edge of his vision. He wasn¡¯t letting her go. Not to this. Not without a fight. Chapter 14 Valewatch stood at the border between the known and the lost, perched on the edge of a land that no longer belonged to anyone. It was the last outpost before the wilds, a place where maps became meaningless and the rules of civilization frayed at the edges. The settlement was a patchwork of survival, built from whatever its inhabitants could salvage. Some buildings bore the marks of old craftsmanship, stone cottages with crumbling walls and weathered shutters, remnants of a past when this place had been part of something greater. Others were hastily erected from rough-hewn timber, their roofs uneven, their doors reinforced with mismatched scraps of iron. A few had been cobbled together from the remains of shattered caravans, their wooden frames painted in faded, peeling colors, the names of forgotten merchants still faintly visible beneath the grime. The main road was little more than packed dirt, uneven and worn by years of uncertain travel. Lanterns swung from wooden posts, their flickering glow barely enough to push back the deepening twilight. The air smelled of smoke and damp earth, thick with the mingled scents of burning wood, unwashed bodies, and something more bitter¡ª the acrid tang of rust, of metal left too long in the rain. And beneath it all, carried on the wind, was something else: the faintest trace of rot. It did not come from the town itself. Not yet. But from somewhere beyond, from the lands westward, where the Curse had taken root. It clung to the air like a whisper, like a promise waiting to be fulfilled. Valewatch was not cursed. But it was close enough to the precipice. ¡°This place is weird,¡± Melissa muttered, picking up Gorgoloth and holding him close. The spider twitched his legs in agreement. Valewatch was unlike any town she¡¯d ever seen¡ª if it could even be called a town. There was no order to it, no sense of structure. Buildings leaned at odd angles, hastily repaired or half-finished, as if the entire place had been built with the expectation that it wouldn¡¯t last long. The streets were uneven, a mixture of packed dirt and stray cobblestones, pockmarked with wagon ruts that had long since dried into hardened grooves. And the people... it was hard to tell who actually lived here and who was just passing through. Scholars in ink-stained robes walked beside scavengers in patched armor, their conversations quiet but tense, eyes constantly flicking toward the western horizon. Hunters leaned against doorframes, bows slung over their shoulders, hands wrapped around the hilts of long knives. Traders in heavy cloaks bartered with gaunt-looking merchants over crates of supplies, their words clipped, their movements hurried. The most heavily armed stood in clusters near the tavern, their armor a mismatched collection of scavenged plate and boiled leather, their weapons worn but well-maintained. Old soldiers, exiles, mercenaries¡ª all gathered in low-voiced conversation, their expressions unreadable. And all of them¡ª all of them¡ª watched. Most looked up as the group entered town, their gazes tracking them with quiet scrutiny. Not overtly hostile, but cautious. Evaluating. ¡°They don¡¯t trust newcomers,¡± Julia noted, her sharp eyes sweeping the street. ¡°Can you blame them?¡± Brenna said, dismounting her horse with practiced ease. ¡°Everyone who comes here is either running from something or stupid enough to run toward it.¡± Melissa snorted, adjusting the strap of her pack. ¡°Which one are we?¡± Brenna gave her a flat look. ¡°Take a guess.¡± Near the center of the settlement, an old watchtower stood, the last remnant of Milana¡¯s disorganized fight against the dark. It had once been tall and commanding, a stronghold meant to watch over the land that had long since fallen to ruin. Now, it leaned ever so slightly, as if bowing to the weight of time. Its stones were cracked and weathered by wind and rain. Climbing ivy wove through the gaps in the masonry, curling around the remnants of arrow slits like nature itself was slowly reclaiming the abandoned. The area around the tower was quieter than the rest of Valewatch. No traders, no scavengers hawking wares, just a few figures moving through the streets with quiet purpose. It felt like an unspoken border within the settlement, a place people knew to keep their distance from. A man in a battered leather coat leaned against the base of the tower, one boot braced casually against the stone. His coat was patched in places, worn at the edges, but the weapons at his belt¡ª two knives, well-maintained and well-used¡ª told a different story. His eyes were sharp, assessing, taking in the group without any real alarm but with the kind of awareness that suggested he didn¡¯t miss much. His stance was relaxed but ready. When they got close enough, he tipped his chin at them. ¡°New blood?¡± ¡°Just passing through,¡± Julia answered smoothly. He let out a slow huff of amusement, shaking his head. ¡°That¡¯s what they all say.¡± Brenna stepped forward without hesitation. ¡°We need to see Merris Renwen.¡± At the name, the man¡¯s expression shifted¡ª not quite surprise, but something close to recognition. His gaze flickered over them again, a little more careful this time, as if weighing whether they were worth the trouble. ¡°Merris doesn¡¯t see just anyone,¡± he said, pushing off the tower and crossing his arms. ¡°What¡¯s your business?¡± Brenna didn¡¯t miss a beat. ¡°Magic,¡± she said flatly. ¡°And a complete disregard for personal safety.¡± The man studied her for a long moment, then glanced at the others. Annemarie, quiet but watchful. Brandon, who hadn¡¯t let go of the hilt of his sword since they arrived. Julia, impassive but tense. Melissa, arms crossed, Gorgoloth shifting slightly at her side. Whatever conclusion he came to, it was enough. He nodded toward the western end of town. ¡°She¡¯s got a place near the old grain stores. Don¡¯t bother knocking¡ª she already knows you¡¯re coming. Julia frowned. ¡°How?¡± The man shrugged, turning away. ¡°Because she¡¯s Merris.¡± As they made their way through the shifting, uncertain streets of Valewatch, Annemarie could feel it again. The pull westward. It had never faded, not once, but here, standing on the edge of the world it was stronger¡ª more insistent. A constant pressure at the base of her ribs, a whisper threading through her thoughts. It was not a command, not a shove, but an inevitability. A tide, slowly but surely pulling her toward the place where the light ended. The road ahead of them was still untouched, still safe¡ª but it wouldn¡¯t be for long. She could see it in the people around her. They moved with purpose, but never ease. Conversations were quiet, kept close, voices rarely rising above the wind. No one lingered in the streets longer than necessary. Doors were reinforced, windows shuttered even in waning daylight. Weapons were carried openly¡ª not as a show of force, but as a precaution. And the way they looked at her group¡ª at the direction they were heading¡ª no one tried to stop them. No one warned them away. The people of Valewatch knew. They were waiting¡ª not for salvation. Not for rescue. But for the day when they, too, would vanish into the dark. The market in Valewatch was a strange mix of necessity and desperation, a place that felt like it had never been built to last. Makeshift stalls lined the uneven streets, some little more than wooden crates stacked together, others repurposed from the skeletons of old buildings. Cloth awnings, tattered and patchworked, strained against the wind as traders called out their wares¡ª preserved food, salvaged tools, mismatched sets of armor, and relics pried from the bones of long-abandoned towns. It smelled of smoke, damp wood, and too many people in too small a space. The air carried a dozen conversations at once¡ª haggling, whispered deals, murmured rumors. Some spoke of practical things¡ª weather, routes, who was passing through and who wasn¡¯t coming back. Others talked of the westward dark, of roads that no longer led where they should, of things seen moving between the trees. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Melissa stood near one of the stalls, arms crossed, watching as Julia carefully counted out their remaining coins. They bartered for dried rations, bundles of herbs, and a few odds and ends they might need on the road. ¡°We should get something for Merris,¡± Julia said, placing a bag of dried fruit into her pack. ¡°It¡¯ll make her more likely to help us.¡± Melissa sighed dramatically. ¡°How did we get here?¡± Julia didn¡¯t look up. ¡°To Valewatch? We rode.¡± ¡°No,¡± Melissa said, gesturing vaguely at everything around them¡ª the grim-faced traders, the scavengers picking through rusted weapons, the distant clang of someone hammering a dent from an old breastplate. ¡°I mean here here. I was in college, Julia. I had an apartment. We had a fake polyamorous relationship so we didn¡¯t have to pay for more than one gym membership. Now we¡¯re buying gifts for some weird frontier witch in a town about to be swallowed by actual evil trees.¡± Brandon, adjusting the strap of a saddlebag, glanced over. ¡°To be fair, you never exactly thrived in college.¡± Melissa scoffed. ¡°Yeah, but at least I wasn¡¯t¡ª¡± she paused, looking down at the daggers on her hip, then at the bundle of dried lavender in Julia¡¯s hands, then back at the street full of hardened scavengers and questionable magic-users. ¡°¡ªthis.¡± Brenna smirked, puffing on her pipe. ¡°You¡¯re adjusting well.¡± ¡°I have queer audacity and unresolved anger issues,¡± Melissa muttered. ¡°That¡¯s not the same as adjusting.¡± Brenna exhaled a slow curl of smoke, unconcerned. ¡°If it works, it works.¡± They gathered a few small gifts¡ª a pouch of good tea, dried fruit, and some strong-smelling soap that Julia insisted would make a difference. The market in Valewatch didn¡¯t have much in the way of luxuries, but these were the kind of things that mattered in a place where comfort was scarce. The tea leaves were wrapped in waxed cloth to keep their scent fresh, the dried fruit carefully packed to avoid crumbling, and the soap¡ª an herbal blend so sharp it nearly stung the nose¡ª was, according to Julia, ¡°the best they were going to get out there.¡± ¡°This,¡± Brenna complained when she saw it, ¡°does not count as ¡®the good kind¡¯.¡± Brandon held up the small bundle with a skeptical look. ¡°You think this¡¯ll be enough?¡± Julia adjusted the strap of her pack, glancing at their half-bored, half-disgusted elven companion. ¡°If she¡¯s anything like Brenna, it¡¯ll depend on her mood.¡± Brenna, leaning lazily against a wooden post, exhaled another slow curl of smoke. ¡°Flattery and bribes work on me. Having worked with Merris in the past¡ª I assume so.¡± Melissa groaned, dragging a hand down her face. ¡°This is gonna be a disaster, isn¡¯t it?¡± Julia sighed, slinging her pack over her shoulder. ¡°Probably.¡± No one disagreed. And with that, they headed toward the old grain stores, toward Merris Renwen, and toward whatever new bullshit awaited them next.
Merris Renwen¡¯s home wasn¡¯t marked, but it was easy to find¡ª mostly because no one else wanted to be near it. It sat at the very western edge of Valewatch, where the town thinned into uneven ground and half-forgotten paths. The structure itself was punched and uneven, as if it had grown from the ruins rather than built there. One side was half-sunk into the remains of an old stone grain store, its weathered walls patched with scavenged timber, reinforced in places with rusted metal sheets. Smoke curled lazily from a crooked chimney, filling the air with a thick, bitter scent that wasn¡¯t quite woodsmoke and wasn¡¯t quite pleasant. Wards had been carved into the doorframe, rough and deliberate, scratched into the wood with something to sharp to be an ordinary knife. Some of the sigils were old, their edges worn by time, but others looked fresh¡ª deep grooves where the wood was still raw and splintered. Dried herbs hung from the eaves in tangled clusters, their scents clashing unpleasantly¡ª rosemary, sage, and something acrid that stung the nose. The whole place radiated an air of mild hostility. Not outright dangerous, but distinctly unwelcoming, like a house that tolerated its own existence out of sheer stubbornness. ¡°Charming,¡± Melissa muttered, eyeing the warped wooden steps like they might collapse beneath them. Brenna, completely unfazed, stepped up onto the porch and knocked once¡ª sharp and confident¡ª before pushing the door open without waiting for an answer. ¡°Merris, you old bat,¡± she called. ¡°You alive in there, or did the dust finally get you?¡± There was a clatter inside, followed by a deep, weary sigh, the sound of someone shuffling around in the dimness beyond the threshold. ¡°Brenna,¡± a voice muttered from within. Low, scratchy, and utterly unimpressed. ¡°If you¡¯re here for alcohol, I¡¯m out. If you¡¯re here for money, I¡¯m still out. And if you¡¯re here for information, I already don¡¯t like it.¡± Brenna grinned, stepping inside and gesturing for the others to follow. ¡°Nice to see you, too.¡± Merris Renwen was a tall, wiry woman, her dark hair streaked with gray, her sharp green eyes ringed with exhaustion. There was something unshakable about her, a presence that filled the space around her without effort. She looked like a woman who had spent more years than she cared to count solving problems that other people were too afraid to touch¡ª and who had grown thoroughly tired of it. She sat at a long, cluttered worktable, surrounded by the chaotic remnants of a mind that never stopped working. Scraps of parchment, scrawled over with cramped, precise handwriting, were piled beside half-melted candles and ink-stained quills. Strange charms¡ª some carved from bone, others made from woven metal and stone¡ª lay scattered in various stages of completion, their purposes unknown. A faint, acrid scent hung in the air, something herbal and sharp, like burnt sage mixed with old paper and melted wax. She gave Brenna a longsuffering look, then turned to the rest of them, her gaze sweeping over them with quick, practiced efficiency. ¡°And who are these poor bastards?¡± ¡°The kind who need your expertise,¡± Brenna said cheerfully. Merris snorted. ¡°That¡¯s never a good sign.¡± She didn¡¯t ask for more details. She just gestured for them to sit¡ª though the chairs around the room were just as cluttered as the rest of the place, piled high with books, empty bottles, and bits of broken charms. They explained their situation¡ª Callista, the bond, the pull westward. Annemarie tried to keep it simple, to focus on the facts, but Merris listened with an expression that never wavered. Her sharp eyes flickered with something unreadable. When they finally reached the part where they planned to enter the cursed lands, she let out a long, deep sigh and leaned back in her chair. ¡°You don¡¯t want to do that,¡± she said flatly. ¡°No shit,¡± Melissa muttered. ¡°You think we have a choice?¡± Merris didn¡¯t rise to the bait. She just studied them for a long moment before shaking her head. ¡°I think you don¡¯t understand what you¡¯re asking.¡± She tapped a finger against the table, slow and deliberate, her voice measured. ¡°Most curses can be outwitted¡ª bartered with, resisted, worked around. The Mirrorwood is not one of them.¡± Julia¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Why?¡± Merris exhaled through her nose. ¡°Because it doesn¡¯t just infect what it touches. It rejects everything that isn¡¯t already a part of it.¡± Julia frowned. ¡°Rejects?¡± ¡°Like the body rejects a knife wound,¡± Merris said. ¡°It doesn¡¯t just consume you. It pushes you out¡ª hard. People who try to cross the tainted lands either get sick and die, or they¡¯re thrown into something worse.¡± Brandon¡¯s jaw clenched. ¡°Callista survived.¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± Merris admitted. ¡°But if she did, it¡¯s because she¡¯s a part of it. You are not.¡± Silence settled over them, heavy and absolute. ¡°You¡¯re saying we can¡¯t enter,¡± Julia said finally, her voice measured, careful. ¡°But you have a way, don¡¯t you?¡± Merris sighed, rubbing her temple as if the conversation itself was physically painful. ¡°There¡¯s a theoretical way.¡± Melissa narrowed her eyes. ¡°What does that mean?¡± ¡°It means,¡± Merris said, pushing away from the table and standing. ¡°I have a spell. A method. A possibility. But I have no idea if it actually works, because no one¡¯s ever been stupid enough to try.¡± The room was quiet for half a second before Brenna smirked, leaning lazily against the wall. ¡°Until now.¡± Merris turned on her heel and fixed her with a withering glare. ¡°I hate you.¡± Brenna exhaled a slow curl of smoke from her pipe, utterly unbothered. ¡°I know.¡± Merris muttered something under her breath¡ª probably a curse, possibly a threat¡ª and stalked toward the far end of the room, rummaging through a series of overstuffed shelves. Scrolls, loose parchment, and the occasional dried herb bundle tumbled aside as she searched, movements clipped and precise, frustration evident in the tightness of her shoulders. Melissa crossed her arms. ¡°So, just to be clear¡ª your plan is to send us into a nightmare forest hoping this spell works, but with no actual proof that it does?¡± Merris didn¡¯t even look up. ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m saying.¡± Brandon exhaled sharply. ¡°Fantastic.¡± A heavy book hit the table with a thud, dust curling into the air. Merris leveled them with a flat stare. ¡°Still interested?¡± She grabbed a stack of old notes, flipping through them with sharp, efficient movements, fingers smudging old ink as she searched. Loose pages fluttered, some brittle with age, others covered in cramped, frantic handwriting¡ª notations scribbled in the margins, formulas half-erased and rewritten, diagrams that looked more like warnings than instructions. ¡°If you¡¯re determined to do this,¡± she muttered, shaking her head as if she couldn¡¯t believe their stupidity, ¡°you¡¯re going to need protection. Permanent protection.¡± She pulled out a single page, the parchment worn and stained, its edges curled from years of handling. The ink scrawled across it was uneven, written by a hand either unsteady or hurried, the script dense with symbols and incantations. She set it on the table, the candlelight making the words flicker like they were shifting on their own. Julia leaned over to read it. The moment her eyes registered the writing, her stomach twisted. ¡°This is¡ª¡± ¡°Blood magic,¡± Merris finished, voice flat. ¡°A deep enchantment. One that will¡ª if it works¡ª tie your bodies to this world hard enough that the Mirrorwood can¡¯t force you out.¡± Brandon exhaled slowly, his fingers pressing against the table¡¯s worn surface. ¡°And if it doesn¡¯t work?¡± Merris smiled grimly, her expression unreadable. ¡°You won¡¯t be alive enough to wish it had.¡± Chapter 15 The road out of Valewatch felt different. When they had arrived, the settlement had felt like a strange, uncertain place¡ª hovering between civilization and ruin, a last, desperate foothold before the land turned dark. Now, leaving it behind, there was more to it. It was a threshold. A barrier, not built to keep people in but to hold something out. A last, fragile wall against whatever waited beyond. The land ahead was still green, the trees still standing, the rivers still flowing clear. The soil was not yet poisoned, the air not yet thick with rot. But there was a weight to it now, something pressing against their skin, humming at the edges of what felt normal. As if the further they went, the less the world would remember what it was supposed to be. No one talked much as they traveled. The only sounds were the steady rhythm of hooves against dirt, the occasional rustling of leaves in the wind, and the faint clinking of the enchantments they wore. Merris¡¯s protections felt cold against their skin¡ª thin bracelets woven with iron and dried herbs, small, carved wards strung on leather cords, salves with a bitter, clinging scent rubbed into their pulse points. The old witch had loaded them up with as many possibilities as she could gather, topping them off with a charm¡ª a drop of blood suspended in resin¡ª that each carried. Even Gorgoloth had his tied around his midsection. The smell of them lingered, sharp and unpleasant, like something both alive and dead. As many as they bore, they were all untested. But they were all they had. They made camp near a narrow stream, where the last echoes of Valewatch¡¯s presence still clung to the air. The land was quiet, but not empty. Annemarie drifted toward the western edge of their camp, her hands curled into fists at her sides. The pull was stronger here¡ª a slow, insistent tide tugging at something deep within her. It was not a command, not a call, but an inevitability. She felt the moment she stepped too close. The resistance was immediate. Not a physical barrier, not something she could see or touch, but a pressure against her very existence. Like stepping into a place where she was not meant to be. Brenna¡¯s voice cut through the thickening dark. ¡°Annemarie. You feel that?¡± She nodded, her throat dry. The trees ahead were too still. Their branches didn¡¯t move, even when the wind passed through. Shadows stretched at unnatural angles, bending away from the firelight as if recoiling from its warmth. Night fell. The fire flickered, its light weak, its reach uncertain. And then, the whispers began. At first, they were only impressions¡ª soft shapes of sound just beyond comprehension. Then they grew. Not words, not entirely, but echoes of voices. A phrase half-remembered. A name spoken in the wrong voice. Fragments of memories that didn¡¯t belong to them. Something was waking. Melissa gritted her teeth. ¡°Okay, yeah, we¡¯re officially in fuck this territory.¡± Brenna hummed in agreement and, with the confidence of someone who had long since given up on conventional problem-solving, picked up the nearest loose object¡ª one of their remaining cabbages¡ª and lobbed it past the perimeter of their camp. The moment it crossed the unseen threshold, it withered. Not slowly. Not over minutes or even seconds. It collapsed into itself, rotting from the inside out in the span of a breath. The stink of decay hit them instantly. No one spoke. No one needed to. Then Brandon let out a slow exhale. ¡°So that¡¯s what we¡¯re dealing with.¡± Brenna studied the remains of the cabbage with a mix of fascination and unease. ¡°That¡¯s not just corruption. That¡¯s rejection.¡± Julia¡¯s gaze flickered toward Annemarie. ¡°If Callista made it through... she might not be able to come back. Annemarie swallowed hard, looking toward the dark. The trees shifted. And the whispers drew closer. The fire wasn¡¯t enough. It burned brightly, but the light barely reached past the circle of their camp, swallowed by the unnatural dark. The night pressed close, thick and cloying, stretching the shadows in ways that defied logic. The trees no longer seemed fixed in place. Their shapes shifted, elongated, as if adjusting to new positions whenever the group wasn¡¯t looking directly at them. The whispers hadn¡¯t stopped. They curled at the edges of hearing, just below comprehension. Not voices, not entirely¡ª fragments of thought, memories stretched too thin. Sometimes, they almost sounded familiar. Sometimes, they used the wrong voices. ¡°Brandon?¡± Annemarie¡¯s voice was barely above a whisper, but in the suffocating quiet it cut through like a knife. Brandon turned, his brows furrowing. ¡°Yeah?¡± She shook her head, her grip tightening around the edges of her cloak. ¡°No. I heard¡ª¡± she cut herself off, pressing her lips together. It wasn¡¯t worth saying. Because she had heard him. His voice, low and tired, murmuring something just beyond her understanding. But he hadn¡¯t spoken. He was sitting by the fire, staring at the treeline like he was expecting it to blink. The horses were uneasy. Their ears flickered back and forth, hooves shifting against the dirt. The charms Merris had given them glowed faintly, a pulse of dim light every time the wind stirred. It wasn¡¯t just the horses that were unsettled. Melissa had her arms crossed, watching the darkness with barely masked irritation. Julia was sharpening a blade that didn¡¯t really need it, her jaw set tight. Brenna was the only one still openly curious¡ª poking the remains of the cabbage with a long stick, watching the way it sunk further into itself and liquified into something foul. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. ¡°Well,¡± she said after a long silence. ¡°That¡¯s horrifying.¡± ¡°No shit,¡± Melissa muttered. ¡°You¡¯d think if the universe was going to throw us into a nightmare, it could at least be clear about what it wants from us.¡± The fire flickered. A presence was gathering. The air shifted, the scent of damp earth giving way to something sickly sweet¡ª like rot buried beneath flowers. Then came the pressure. A slow, insidious weight settling against their skin, as if the night itself was watching them. Julia stilled, her fingers tightening around her dagger. ¡°Do you feel that?¡± ¡°I¡¯d rather not,¡± Melissa replied. Annemarie¡¯s breath hitched. The pull was stronger now. Not just a sensation¡ª an imperative. Something was calling her forward, latching onto her bones, her blood. And something else did not want her to answer. The resistance slammed into her like a physical force. She gasped, stumbling backward as if she had run into an invisible wall. Brandon caught her, his hands gripping her shoulders. ¡°Hey¡ª hey, I¡¯ve got you. What¡¯s wrong?¡± She tried to focus, tried to find words for the feeling unraveling inside her. ¡°It¡¯s¡ª¡± her throat tightened. ¡°It¡¯s pushing back.¡± Brenna frowned. ¡°Pushing back?¡± Annemarie swallowed hard. ¡°Like I don¡¯t belong here. Like I¡¯m not supposed to be here.¡± Brandon¡¯s grip tightened slightly. ¡°Is it like last time?¡± She shook her head, frustrated. It wasn¡¯t like before. Not entirely. The pull toward the west was still there, a slow and steady drumbeat in her mind¡ª but now there was something else. A weight dragging her back. Holding her in place. Like something was fighting over her. The trees creaked. The whispers grew louder. And then¡ª the fire collapsed. Not out. Not entirely. It didn¡¯t vanish, didn¡¯t die, but it dropped¡ª as if something had sucked the heat from it, leaving only a weak, guttering ember. The darkness surged forward, pressing at the edges of their camp. And this time, when the whispers spoke, they carried names. Julia. She flinched, eyes snapping to the dark. That voice had been her father¡¯s. Melissa. A whisper, right against her ear, and she whirled¡ª but nothing was there. Annemarie. She stiffened. That voice¡ª Callista. It was hers. It was her own voice, calling from the trees. Annemarie¡¯s blood went cold. The horses reared, suddenly panicked, their shrieks cutting through the night like splintering glass. The group barely had time to react before the shadows moved. The trees shifted. And something howled. The darkness twisted. At first, it was only the feeling of movement¡ª a distortion at the edges of their vision, the way shadows bent and curled unnaturally. Then came the eyes. Pale silver, reflecting the fire¡¯s dying light. Unblinking. Watching. The first shape stepped forward, and the fire flared just enough to reveal it. A wolf¡ª at least, the shape of one. But its body was wrong. Too long in places, its limbs stretched as if the bones beneath were bending to an unnatural will. Its fur wasn¡¯t fur at all, but something shifting and unsubstantial. Like smoke barely held together in the form of a beast. Its teeth, however¡ª glistening white, too many, too sharp¡ª were very, very real. The growl it loosed was not a sound made by any living thing. It was the whispering of wind through dead trees, the creak of something breaking just beyond sight. Then the others emerged. One. Three. Five. A half-circle of shifting, inky shapes surrounding them, low and crouched, waiting. Brandon drew his sword, stepping instinctively in front of Annemarie. Melissa unslung her bow in the same breath, jaw clenched tight. Brenna, hand already at her satchel, muttered, ¡°Knew I should have prepped something for shadow-born abominations today.¡± Julia didn¡¯t wait. With a flick of her wrist, she sent a dagger flying. It caught one of the creatures in the throat¡ª or would have, if the creature had a solid throat to catch. Instead, it rippled around the blade, its body swallowing the steel like mist before reforming, completely unharmed. ¡°Oh shit,¡± Julia hissed. The wolves lunged. The first leapt for Annemarie, teeth snapping inches from her arm before Brandon shoved her out of the way and took the hit instead. He grunted as claws raked across his side, tearing through fabric, but not deep enough to be lethal. He swung wildly with his sword, the silver sheen of it carving through one of the beasts. The wolf shrieked, its body distorting¡ª but it didn¡¯t die. Brandon barely had time to process that before another crashed into him, driving him to the ground. Melissa reacted fast. Her bow loosed with a sharp twang and the arrow struck true¡ª piercing a wolf clean through the chest. For a breath, the beast convulsed, flickering like a flame caught in the wind. Then to her horror, the arrow vanished, swallowed by the darkness, and the wolf barely staggered. ¡°Are you kidding me?¡± she snarled. Brenna, ducking under the swipe of another beast, skidded to a stop near the fire. ¡°Alright, plan B.¡± She reached into her satchel, fingers curling around a flask of oil. With a practiced motion she hurled it at the nearest wolf. The glass shattered against the creature¡¯s form, drenching it in slick liquid. Then she grabbed a burning stick from the fire and threw. The wolf ignited. It didn¡¯t burn like flesh¡ª it burned like paper, like something not meant to hold form. The creature howled, thrashing as it began to come apart, body peeling away in strips of shadow until it collapsed into nothingness. ¡°Fire works!¡± Brenna shouted. Julia was already moving. She dropped to a knee beside Brandon, who had managed to wrestle his attacker off him. One quick slash of her dagger¡ª a different one this time, a rather expensive blade etched with runes¡ª sliced through the wolf¡¯s leg. This time, the wound stayed. The wolf recoiled, its shape flickering like a dying candle. ¡°Magic works,¡± she amended. ¡°Brandon, get up!¡± Brandon rolled to his feet, gripping his sword tighter. ¡°Gladly.¡± Another wolf lunged for Melissa, but she was ready. Instead of firing another useless arrow, she did something far more reckless¡ª she ducked, grabbed a burning log from the fire, and swung. The flaming wood caught the wolf in the ribs. It shrieked as its body distorted, fire eating away at the edges of its form until it, too, crumbled into darkness. Annemarie, panting, stumbled back as the last two wolves circled. The pull in her chest was unbearable. She could feel the thing that had made these creatures. It didn¡¯t just want to stop them¡ª it wanted them gone. Unmade. A deep, humming energy built beneath her skin. Her pulse thundered in her ears. And then¡ª The fire flared brighter. Not from the wood. Not from anything physical. From her. A wind whipped through the camp, and the fire bent toward Annemarie¡ª rushing toward her, swirling at her fingertips as if drawn by something ancient and familiar. She barely had time to think before she threw it. The wave of flame slammed into the remaining wolves, consuming them. Their howls of rage and agony echoed through the clearing before they, too, dissolved into nothingness. And then, just like that, it was silent. The wind stilled. The fire crackled softly, back to its normal, flickering self. Brandon turned to Annemarie, breathless. ¡°You¡ª¡± he swallowed. ¡°You threw fire.¡± She blinked down at her shaking hands. The warmth of the magic still tingled beneath her skin. ¡°I¡ª¡± her voice wavered. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to.¡± He stared at her frankly, openly, before opening his arms and pulling her into an embrace. ¡°It was incredible.¡± Brenna let out a low whistle, rubbing a soot-streaked hand across her face. ¡°Alright. So next time we face nightmare wolves from hell, we know the rules.¡± She gestured vaguely. ¡°Fire, magic, and not stabbing them with regular weapons.¡± Melissa, still gripping her makeshift flaming club, sighed. ¡°Fantastic. Anyone else wanna call it a night? Gorgoloth is still hunting but I think he¡¯d forgive us.¡± Julia wiped soot from her cheek, glancing toward the trees. The darkness was still wrong. The air still felt watched. She exhaled sharply. ¡°We won this round,¡± she muttered. ¡°But I don¡¯t think we¡¯re done yet.¡± And as the trees shifted ever so slightly, the whispering began again. Chapter 16 Stepping beyond the boundary was like slipping between worlds. A feeling Melissa was growing familiar with. One moment the air was breathable, the ground solid beneath her feet. The next, the weight of the Mirrorwood pressed against them¡ª thick and unmoving, like the heavy stillness before a storm that would never come. It wasn¡¯t just pressure. It wasn¡¯t just silence. It was a presence¡ª a waiting thing. The trees stood where trees should be, but they were wrong. Their bark was too dark, streaked with veins as though they had been burned from the inside out. Their limbs twisted unnaturally¡ª some stretching skyward like skeletal hands, others bending toward the earth as if reaching for something unseen. And the leaves¡ªthey didn¡¯t move. No wind stirred them. No shift in the air disturbed their stillness. Even as the group passed beneath their canopy, they did not rustle, did not tremble. It was as though the trees weren''t reacting to the world. They were watching it. And beneath them, there was no sound. No birds. No insects. No distant scuffle of hidden creatures in the brush. Not even the murmur of wind slipping through branches. Just a hollow, breathless stillness. A silence that didn¡¯t belong in a living place. Melissa¡¯s grip tightened around her dagger. ¡°Everyone still breathing?¡± Brandon¡¯s gaze flickered over the darkened forest before setting on Annemarie. ¡°For now.¡± She hadn¡¯t spoken since they stepped beyond the threshold, but something in her had shifted. Not fear. Not exactly. But something close to recognition. Like she had been here before. Like the weight of the Mirrorwood was familiar. ¡°It¡¯s pulling me harder now,¡± she murmured, as if speaking too loudly would break something fragile in the air. ¡°Like I¡¯m already a part of it.¡± Brenna adjusted the bracelet at her wrist, worried the charm at her throat. Her voice was light, but the words hung heavy. ¡°You probably are. If Callista survived this, she isn¡¯t normal anymore. And you¡¯re tied to her.¡± No one liked that answer. No one argued with it, either. They kept moving, horses moving deliberately as they followed the narrow, ruined road to Moorpond. They smelled the lake before they saw it. Wet earth, stagnant water¡ª but beneath it lurked something sharper. Metallic. Sour. Like rusted iron sinking into something that should have rotted but hadn¡¯t. Brandon squinted ahead. ¡°That¡¯s water, right?¡± It was. Mostly. The lake that had once made Moorpond thrive still stretched out before them, still as glass beneath a sky painted in unmoving shades of gray. But its surface was wrong. Water should ripple. It should catch the sky, reflect the light, shimmer with movement. This didn¡¯t. It was too dark, too thick, as though something oily had seeped into its depths, warping its clarity. And its reflection¡ª It twisted. Not with the water. Not with the world. The shapes it held stretched at impossible angles, bending in ways that did not match the landscape around it. Sometimes, the lake reflected trees that weren¡¯t there. Sometimes, their own reflections flickered, slightly delayed, slightly off. And beyond that, along the shoreline, stood Moorpond. Or what was left of it. The buildings remained¡ª some half-collapsed, others eerily whole, frozen as they had been the day the Mirrorwood took them. Stone had darkened, laced with sickly green veins, as though the corruption of the land had sunk into its foundation. Wooden beams had twisted and warped, some curving at unnatural angles, others too smooth¡ª untouched by time. The streets were empty. The windows were hollow. The city had been lost to the Mirrorwood for twenty-three years, and it had never let go. ¡°Saints,¡± Julia whispered, gripping her reins tighter. ¡°It¡¯s still standing.¡± Brenna exhaled, low and grim. ¡°It¡¯s not standing.¡± She scanned the silent city, the weight of unseen eyes pressing against them. ¡°It¡¯s waiting.¡±
Moorpond did not breathe. It was not merely abandoned, not left to decay like any other forgotten ruin. It was held, suspended in silence so deep it pressed against their skin. No wind stirred the surface of the lake. No birds wheeled overhead. No insects chirped beneath the shattered cobblestones. Nothing lived here. Nothing could. As they moved deeper into the city, the air itself thickened, pressing in around them with the weight of deep water. Their limbs dragged, but it was not exhaustion. It was resistance. The buildings still stood¡ª some whole, others half-collapsed, their walls twisted and warped as though time had not simply eroded but rewritten them. The stone had darkened, shot through with something that pulsed beneath the surface and stretched through old carvings like creeping roots. Some doors hung open, yawning into darkness. Others remained shut, untouched, preserved¡ª as if the people inside had simply vanished before they could flee. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. But the windows were the worst. Gaping hollows, gaping into the streets like vacant eyes. Staring. Waiting. Time had stopped here, but it had not let go. Brandon saw it first. ¡°Stop.¡± His voice barely rose above the silence, but the weight in it made everyone obey. The horses shifted uneasily beneath them, ears twitching, muscles tense, sensing something just beyond their riders¡¯ understanding. The others followed his gaze. A man stood in the center of the street. Or, what had been a man. His clothes were faded but whole, stiffened by time rather than rot. His boots were planted firmly on the cobblestones, his posture unnaturally rigid, frozen mid-step. Wisps of thin, gray hair clung to his scalp. But his face¡ª His mouth hung open, lips stretched wide in a silent scream. His eyes, dull and dry, still there but not, stared blankly ahead, fixed on something long gone. His hands had curled into claws, fingers rigid, reaching for something¡ª grasping at a moment just before¡ª before what? Julia dismounted first. Her boots crunched softly against the ground as she moved forward, slow and deliberate, breath measured. ¡°Is he¡ª¡± She didn¡¯t finish. The man was not breathing. And he was not alone. As their eyes adjusted to the dim light, the city shifted¡ª not in movement, but in recognition. Figures stood in the doorways. In the alleys. Along the sidewalks, caught mid-motion, locked in fragments of a life that no longer belonged to them. A woman at a market stall, her hands raised as if gesturing to unseen customers. A child on the steps of a house, staring at something just beyond sight. A man in a doorway,his arms wrapped around nothing as though he had been holding someone who had disappeared. Dozens of them. Hundreds. Frozen and watching. Annemarie stepped forward, her breath shallow, her gaze locked on a young woman near the square. She looked barely older then Annemarie herself¡ª her clothes plain but clean, untouched by decay, stiff with time. Her hands were clasped before her chest, fingers intertwined, as though in prayer. Her posture was gentle, almost peaceful¡ª almost¡ª but something was wrong. The tension in her arms. The slight parting of her lips. The wide, unblinking stillness of her glassy eyes. She had been afraid. Not in the way the man in the street had been, terror wrenched across his features. This was something deeper. Quieter. Like she had known exactly what was coming. And though her lips remained locked in silence, Annemarie heard her. Not in the air. Not in the space between them. In her own bones. The whisper curled beneath her skin, a thread of sound vibrating through her ribs, slipping into the cracks between thought and instinct. A voice¡ª faint, familiar, distant. You should not be here. Annemarie¡¯s breath hitched. She knew exactly whose voice it was: Callista.
The air thickened, pressing against Annemarie¡¯s skin like the weight of unseen hands. She forced herself to step back, her breath shallow, her pulse an unsteady rhythm against her ribs. The frozen girl remained still. Unseeing. Unbreathing. Black veins curled along her throat, stark against pale, unblemished skin, twisting like the roots of something buried too deep to be pulled free. This isn¡¯t just death. Annemarie clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to reach out¡ª to touch, to confirm, to see if anything was left inside that rigid body. But the whisper still hummed through her bones, a lingering thread of Callista¡¯s voice. You should not be here. Annemarie wasn¡¯t sure if it was a warning or a regret. ¡°Okay,¡± Melissa said, shifting her stance, her eyes flicking between the motionless figures. ¡°I¡¯m officially done with this place. This whole town? Worst vibes imaginable. Can we go?¡± Brenna, standing slightly apart from the others, exhaled slowly. ¡°We could,¡± she said mildly. ¡°But I¡¯m starting to realize that whatever did this might not want us to leave.¡± Melissa let out a sharp, strained laugh. ¡°Why would you say that?¡± Brenna only smirked, but her shoulders were tense now. Her weight shifted like she was bracing for something unseen. Annemarie turned, sweeping her gaze over the empty square. The warped buildings loomed, their twisted beams reaching out like grasping fingers. The alleyways between them stretched deeper into the ruins, yawning into shadow. The pull westward remained¡ª constant. Urging. Callista was out there, but something else was too. Something that had never let go of Moorpond. Julia adjusted her grip on the reins, her voice measured, carefully even. ¡°Alright. We keep moving. No splitting up. No stopping unless we have to. We get through this place fast.¡± No one argued. Annemarie inhaled, steadying herself. And pressed forward, deeper into the waiting city. ¡°Did you see that?¡± Julia¡¯s voice cut through the silence, sharp as the snap of a bowstring. Annemarie¡¯s breath caught. Brandon was at her side in an instant, his hand hovering near her arm but not quite touching. ¡°Hey¡ª what was that?¡± She didn¡¯t answer. Something was moving. At first, she thought it was just the shadows shifting¡ª the strange, unnatural light reflecting off the blackened lake, playing tricks on her mind. The entire town felt unsteady, like reality itself was twisting at the edges, unraveling in slow, delicate threads. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe she had only imagined¡ª Then it stepped into view. A figure. Tall. Twisted. Almost human. But not quite. Its limbs were too long, its arms hanging past its knees. Its spine bent at an unnatural angle, its head tilting in a way that made Annemarie¡¯s own neck ache in sympathy. The edges of it blurred and flickered, as if it was trying¡ª and failing¡ª to exist in a space where it did not belong. It shouldn¡¯t be able to stand. And yet it did. Melissa¡¯s dagger was already in her hand, her stance shifting into something ready. ¡°Okay, so they¡¯re not all frozen.¡± The thing shuddered. Not like something waking up¡ª like something jerked into motion. A deep, unnatural convulsion, its joints twitching like a marionette pulled by an unsteady hand. Its shoulders rolled forward, adjusting, remembering how to move. Then slowly¡ª it turned toward them. Its head snapped into place with a wet, grinding pop. And then it started walking. Chapter 17 The creature moved strangely, its limbs bending too fluidly, its gait too smooth¡ª like a puppet without strings, gliding forward as if the ground itself pulled it along. It didn¡¯t stumble. It didn¡¯t hesitate. It simply closed the distance between them, silent and inevitable. And it wasn¡¯t alone. From the darkened alleys, from the crooked doorways of Moorpond, others began to stir. Shadows unfolded from buildings, peeling away from the walls like something unsticking itself from reality. What had seemed like empty ruins moments ago were no longer vacant¡ª figures pulled themselves free from the husks of old lives, their bodies twisting, limbs jerking as if remembering how to move. Brandon¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°Mother of God...¡± ¡°Nope!¡± Melissa said sharply, drawing her daggers in one swift motion. ¡°Nope, nope, nope!¡± The first creature lurched forward, but Julia was faster. Her knives flashed, slicing cleanly across its chest¡ª or at least, where its chest should have been. The blade passed through, tearing aged fabric, but nothing else. There was no give, no resistance, like the thing was made of half-solid mist¡ª something worse shifting beneath its surface. The creature didn¡¯t even slow down. ¡°Not again!¡± Julia snapped. ¡°Apparently so!¡± Brandon yelled. Another lunged from the left, its fingers too long, too many joints. Melissa struck hard, her blade aimed for the throat¡ª but the moment the steel connected, its flesh warped, bending around the wound like water shifting around a stone. ¡°What the fuck?¡± Melissa snarled, jerking back before it could grab her. Brandon swung his sword at the nearest creature¡¯s arm, the movement sharp, precise¡ª But when the blade met flesh, it was like cutting through damp air. The wound never fully formed, the edges of its body twisting, closing before the steel could bite. ¡°Nothing¡¯s working!¡± Brandon shouted. ¡°What do we do?¡± ¡°We burn them again, you idiot,¡± Brenna snapped. Without hesitation, she lifted a hand and snapped her fingers. A pulse of blue-white fire erupted from her palm, streaking through the darkness and striking the nearest creature square in the chest. The reaction was instant. It let out a sound¡ª not just a scream, but something deeper. Something wrong, like a collapsing building, like a chorus of voices layered together and peeling apart all at once. Its body convulsed violently as the flames ripped across its form¡ª And then, the magic solidified it. Its edges snapped into focus, no longer a shifting blur but something real enough to burn. And burn it did. The fire consumed it, curling its shape inward like a dying ember, twisting in on itself until there was nothing left but a blackened, smoking mark on the cobblestones. Brenna exhaled slowly, a satisfied grin tugging at her lips. ¡°Well. That¡¯s promising.¡± ¡°Oh, great,¡± Melissa snapped, eyes flicking toward the many creatures still approaching. ¡°So the only thing that works is magic, which only two of us have? Fantastic! No flaws in this plan at all!¡± Brenna smirked, stepping forward. The flames curled at her fingertips. ¡°Better stick close, then.¡± More creatures emerged from the ruins, their movements growing sharper, their blurring, shifting forms struggling to take solid shape. The city had noticed them now. And it wasn¡¯t letting them leave. The creatures didn¡¯t pursue, however. Not immediately. The fire still flickered in the blackened ruins of what had once been one of them, its charred remains little more than smoldering embers. The echoes of its death scream still hung in the air. The remaining figures hovered just beyond the firelight, their warped bodies shifting, their heads tilting too sharply, too unnaturally, as though reassessing their prey. They were thinking. Watching. Then¡ª one of them spoke. ¡°Now, now,¡± a smooth, lilting voice broke through the silence, each syllable deliberate, amused. ¡°That was unnecessary.¡± A figure stepped forward from the shadows. Almost human. But not quite enough. He was tall, his frame stretched just past the point of normal. His limbs were too long, his fingers tapering into something just shy of elegant. His face was gaunt, hollowed out by time and something else, his skin an unnatural shade of gray¡ª not like a corpse, not quite, but half-translucent. Like wax left too long in the sun. His clothes had been fine once, their cuts unmistakably noble, though time had left them threadbare, fraying at the cuffs and seams. The deep blues and silvers of Milani fashion had long since faded, dulled by the weight of years. But his eyes¡ª His eyes were wrong. Not just in color¡ª something pale and unfixed, shifting like reflections on dark water¡ª but in the way they didn¡¯t quite settle on one place. As if he were seeing too much all at once. Beside him, a second figure emerged¡ª shorted, broader in the shoulders. His movements were stiff, disjointed, as though his bones had set in the wrong positions. His posture was more rigid, his face less refined, his expression severe where the other¡¯s was entertained. Melissa¡¯s grip on her daggers tightened. Then the taller one smiled. ¡°You killed one of our citizens,¡± he said, his tone chiding. Like a schoolmaster correcting a misbehaving student. ¡°That was rather rude of you.¡± Melissa let out a sharp breath. ¡°Oh, fuck off. We were defending ourselves.¡± The taller one chuckled, a soft, eerie sound, as though he found her response adorable. ¡°Defending yourselves?¡± he echoed, tilting his head. ¡°From whom? This is our city. You are the intruders.¡± Julia stepped forward carefully, her stance defensive but her voice even. ¡°Who are you?¡± The smile widened, just a little too much. ¡°I am Duke Hiram Ettaria,¡± he said, inclining his head in a gesture that almost passed for civility. ¡°And this is my dear brother, Turel.¡± The shorter one¡ª Turel¡ª huffed, his mouth a thin, grim line. His voice, when he spoke, was thicker and more solid than Hiram¡¯s, but still carried that unnerving wrongness. ¡°You should not be here,¡± he said simply. ¡°Moorpond is not for outsiders.¡± Brenna exhaled through her nose, unimpressed. ¡°Moorpond is dead,¡± she said flatly. ¡°Has been for twenty-three years.¡± Hiram tilted his head again, studying her with something like amusement. ¡°Oh, my dear. Misguided.¡± He gestured at the city around them, at the hollow, ruined thing that had once been Moorpond. ¡°Our city still stands. We protect it from the Curse.¡± Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Melissa scoffed. ¡°You¡¯re part of the Curse.¡± For the first time, the smile on Hiram¡¯s face didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. His expression didn¡¯t change, not fully, but something beneath the surface hardened. ¡°That,¡± he murmured, voice still smooth but now carrying a faint edge. ¡°is a matter of perspective.¡± Julia felt it first¡ª the shift. The Ettaria brothers weren¡¯t hostile, not yet. But their presence, their words, their eerie calmness¡ª none of it felt right. These were not lingering spirits. Not cursed mortals. Not living things. They were something in between, something caught inside the Mirrorwood¡¯s grip. If she had to put money on it, Julia would have bet that these things¡ª these creatures¡ª simply wore the Ettaria brothers¡¯ faces. Turel¡¯s gaze was steady, unreadable, but his voice was not a threat. Not exactly. ¡°You should leave,¡± he said, ¡°Before our patience wears thin.¡± Annemarie stepped forward before anyone could stop her. ¡°We need to cross through Moorpond.¡± For the first time, Hiram¡¯s strange, flickering eyes fully settled on her. His lips parted slightly, his nostrils flaring as though he was scenting the air. Then, he smiled again. ¡°Ah,¡± he breathed. ¡°I see. You are one of them.¡± Brandon was in front of her instantly, sword drawn, his stance shifting into something dangerous. ¡°One of who?¡± Hiram let out a soft hum, tilting his head at an unnatural angle, his pale eyes still locked on Annemarie. ¡°The ones the Curse despises.¡± The words sent a sharp chill down Annemarie¡¯s spine. Turel made a low, rasping sound¡ª not quite a growl, but something close, something unhappy. ¡°She should not exist.¡± And that was when everything turned. Hiram lifted his hand and the shadows of the ruined city shifted. Not around them, but toward them. The darkness crawled over the cobblestones like ink bleeding through fabric, stretching from the alleys, pouring from the hollowed-out ruins, reaching for them with fingers that had no form, no weight¡ª not yet. Melissa moved first, grabbing Annemarie¡¯s arm and pulling her back. ¡°Yeah, nope. Can¡¯t say this was fun, but I¡¯m out.¡± Turel lunged forward, his motion too fast for something so stiff and wrong. His body twisted as though his bones had learned to move in ways they shouldn¡¯t. Brandon barely got his blade up in time, only for it to sink into flesh that was not flesh¡ª passing through like water. Hiram lifted his other hand, and the entire street came alive. Darkness spilled forth, warping the shadows of the ruined city. The hollow streets of Moorpond breathed, stretching open as if the entire town had become a single mouth waiting to swallow them whole. ¡°Run!¡± Julia shouted. The Ettaria brothers did not move like people. They moved like echoes¡ª something that had been forced into the shape of men, but never taught how to be human. Brenna snapped her fingers, sending a burst of blue-white flame toward Hiram¡ª only for it to pass right through him. Hiram barely blinked. ¡°That won¡¯t work on me,¡± he said, almost kindly. As though she were a child who had simply misunderstood the rules of a game. ¡°But it was a good try.¡± Melissa snarled, already moving, already drawing another dagger and flinging it in a sharp motion straight for Turel¡¯s face. But before it could land, Turel snatched it out of the air, fingers closing over the blade without so much as a flinch. Melissa¡¯s eye twitched. ¡°Come on.¡± she threw her hands in the air. ¡°That¡¯s just unfair.¡± ¡°Stop talking and move,¡± Julia barked, grabbing her and dragging her back toward the nearest alley. Annemarie¡¯s head pounded, the bond pulling at her harder than ever¡ª forward, forward, forward, past this city, past these creatures, past everything that stood in her way. But she forced herself to move. They ran. Through the twisting alleys, leaping over collapsed rubble, skidding around broken carts and through shattered doorways. Never stopping long enough for the brothers to reach them completely. But behind them, Moorpond was shifting. The streets warped, stretching long where they had once been short, twisting into dead ends where open roads should have been. Buildings leaned inward, their dark windows yawning wide. Hollow and waiting, like the city itself was trying to keep them inside. It was like running through a nightmare. ¡°This isn¡¯t a place,¡± Brandon shouted, breath ragged. ¡°It¡¯s a fucking trap!¡± There was only one way out¡ª the old western gate, where the road continued toward Byfox. They raced toward it, boots pounding against the ground, their own gasps loud in the dead air. And behind them, Hiram Ettaria laughed. It wasn¡¯t a mocking laugh, nor a threatening one. It was pleasant. Delighted. Amused. Like this was entertainment. Like they were expected to run. And just as they reached the edge of the city, the shadows lurched. A hand¡ª long-fingered, wrong¡ª nearly closed around Annemarie¡¯s throat. But Brenna shoved her forward at the last second, spinning as she threw a burst of raw magic behind them¡ª a pulse of bright, searing force that struck something in the dark, sending it reeling back with a sound that scraped against her bones. ¡°GO!¡± They cleared the gate. The instant they passed through, the ground was solid beneath them again, the air changing¡ª thin, but real. They stopped only once they were sure they were free, chests heaving, muscles burning. And when they turned back, Moorpond was still. The streets were empty. The ruins were untouched. As though it had never moved at all. They didn¡¯t stop running until the ruins of Moorpond had melted into the cursed horizon, an unmoving shadow against the unnatural sky. Only when they reached what had once been a bridge¡ª its center long collapsed into the river below, jagged remnants jutting out like broken teeth¡ª did they allow themselves to breathe. Brandon bent over, hands on his knees, struggling for air. His breaths came ragged, uneven, shoulders rising and falling under the weight of exhaustion. Melissa braced herself against a rock, her free hand still locked around the hilt of her dagger, knuckles white. Between breaths, she muttered a steady stream of curses, her voice edged with frustration, anger, and something dangerously close to fear. Julia stood apart, silent. Her grip on her knife was too tight, fingers curled around it like a lifeline, like she wasn¡¯t convinced the immediate danger had passed. And Annemarie¡ª she stood at the very edge of the broken bridge, staring westward. Thinking. Calculating. But the unease in her gut refused to settle. The pull toward Callista was still there¡ª constant, insistent¡ª but it was not the only force acting on her anymore. The Mirrorwood itself had reacted to her. Not just by calling, but by pushing back. And that was new. Before, she had assumed the Curse wanted her. That whatever force had twisted this land had been waiting, patient, letting her walk willingly into its grasp. But that wasn¡¯t what she had felt in Moorpond. The pull toward Callista was sharp and direct, focused, like a tether pulling her forward. But the Mirrorwood? That was different. That was different. That was hostile. The pressure, the weight in the air, the way her body had slowed¡ª she recognized it now. The Mirrorwood was not trying to claim her. It was trying to reject her. That should have been a relief. It wasn¡¯t. Because rejection wasn¡¯t the same as safety. It meant there was something wrong about her presence¡ª something that made the Mirrorwood react. Something that tipped the scales off-balance. And it meant the two forces acting on her¡ª the bond pulling her toward Callista, and the Mirrorwood itself¡ª were not the same thing. She had assumed, wrongly, that Callista had been taken by the Curse. That following her path meant following the will of the Mirrorwood. But what if that wasn¡¯t true? What if Callista had gone in willingly, and the Mirrorwood had tried to keep her out too? What if she was fighting it? Her jaw tightened. Behind her, Brenna wasn¡¯t looking at the ruins. She was looking at her hands¡ª or, more specifically, at the bracelet wrapped around her wrist. The enchantments Merris had given them. The only thing keeping them separate from the Curse¡¯s grip. The silver had darkened. Fine cracks splintered across its surface, thin but spreading, barely visible in the dimming light. The runes etched into the metal¡ª once sharp and precise¡ª had blurred at the edges, as if something inside was wearing them down. Brenna lifted her head, scanning the others, and found, to her dismay, it wasn¡¯t just hers. Melissa¡¯s warding bracelet had begun to fray, its woven threads unraveling strand by strand. Julia¡¯s leather talisman had stiffened, its once-bold markings faded to near illegibility. Even Annemarie had a crack running straight through the center of her amulet. Just one¡ª but deep. Brenna exhaled. ¡°That¡¯s not good.¡± Melissa, still catching her breath, rubbed absently at her wrist. ¡°What¡¯s not good? Brenna turned her own wrist, summoning a weak flame and letting the firelight catch on the fractures. ¡°Our protection is failing. The words settled over the group like a stone. Brandon straightened, his expression tightening. ¡°Failing?¡± His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it. ¡°What do you mean failing?¡± Brenna flexed her fingers, as if trying to shake off the weight of the realization. ¡°I mean we¡¯ve been too close for too long,¡± she muttered. ¡°And the Mirrorwood doesn¡¯t like intruders.¡± Julia frowned, brows furrowing. ¡°Merris said these would protect us.¡± ¡°Merris said they would help,¡± Brenna corrected, voice dry. ¡°Not that they would last forever.¡± Melissa let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand through her hair. ¡°Great. So what happens when they stop working entirely?¡± Brenna didn¡¯t answer immediately. Her gaze flicked back towards Moorpond¡ª then at Annemarie, still standing at the edge of the broken bridge. She sighed, rubbing her temples. ¡°Then we find out exactly how fast the Mirrorwood can kill us.¡± Chapter 18 The sky had darkened as they traveled, the sun lingering somewhere behind thick clouds but offering no warmth. Only a faded, sickly light seeped through, making everything feel stretched thin. Shadows sprawled along the ground, longer than they should have been, bending at unnatural angles as though they were unsure of their own shapes. For miles, the land had been changing. At first, the shifts had been subtle¡ª small enough to ignore. Trees grew gnarled, their trunks twisted in on themselves like old wounds, branches clawing skyward in warped, desperate arcs. Rocks jutted from the earth in strange formations¡ª some smoothed unnaturally clean, others fractured and jagged, as though something inside had tried to break free. The further they walked, the older the world felt. Not in the way of time¡¯s natural erosion, but in a way that was wrong. As if the land itself had been forced to age in a direction it was never meant to go, twisting its essence and unraveling the threads of what it was supposed to be. No one spoke. Moorpond was behind them, but its weight still clung to their shoulders like a damp cloth, heavy and unwelcome. Annemarie kept her eyes forward. The pull westward had not faded. It remained a steady, unrelenting force. But something had changed¡ª it was no longer just drawing her forward. It was tightening. Like the Mirrorwood had finally noticed them. The road curved along a ridge of stone, and as they crested the incline, they saw it. The monastery. A dark silhouette against the mist-heavy sky, looming in silence. ¡°There,¡± Julia said, pointing. Once it had been grand. Even from a distance, its ruined splendor was evident¡ª tall stone walls, still standing but worn by time. Arched windows, long emptied of glass, gaping like hollow eyes. Faint traces of carved reliefs lined the outer walls¡ª scenes of saints, their faces eroded smooth, their expressions lost. Now, it was sinking into the land like the earth had tried to swallow it whole. Its walls slumped beneath the weight of expedited centuries, half-buried in the soil as if the ground itself had tried to reclaim it. Entire sections had collapsed, leaving jagged wounds of broken stone and twisted beams. Vines curled through the ruins, but they were not green¡ª they were pale and brittle, drained of life, clinging like veins to a corpse. And despite its ruin, the monastery still stood. Its shadow stretched too far in the dim light. Its empty walls stared outward. The wind, which had been still for miles, whispered faintly here, stirring through broken archways like a breath from something deep beneath the stone. Annemarie¡¯s jaw tightened. She hadn¡¯t realized she¡¯d stopped breathing. ¡°This place is cursed,¡± Melissa muttered. ¡°Like¡ª obviously everything out here is cursed. But this? Extra cursed.¡± Julia exhaled sharply. ¡°We don¡¯t have another option. It¡¯s shelter.¡± ¡°Shelter,¡± Melissa repeated flatly, gesturing toward the skeletal remains of the monastery. ¡°Sure. Because that looks safe.¡± ¡°It¡¯s safer than staying out in the open.¡± Brandon turned and scanned the horizon behind them. His jaw was tight, his eyes narrowed. ¡°Julia¡¯s right. We need to stop before nightfall. We don¡¯t want to be out here when¡ª¡± He didn¡¯t finish his sentence. He didn¡¯t have to. No one wanted to say what they all understood: whatever was watching them was getting closer. Brenna, who had been silent until now, let out a slow breath. ¡°Fine,¡± she said, shifting. ¡°But I¡¯m marking the exit. If something tries to lock us inside, I want to know before it¡¯s too late.¡± No one argued. Up close, the decay was worse. The wooden doors had long since rotted away, leaving only a frame of splintered remains. The courtyard beyond was choked with brittle grass, its stone cracked and uneven, disrupted by time¡ª or, most likely, something else. The eroded reliefs on the outer walls seemed to stare at them. Annemarie hesitated at the threshold. The pull remained, steady and insistent, but the monastery had a different weight to it. Not the force of the Mirrorwood. Not the twisting resistance of Moorpond. Something else. A place abandoned by the divine. A place that had once been sacred, but was no longer. Julia stepped through first, her expression wary but resolute. ¡°Let¡¯s check the interior. If the roof is intact in any of the halls, we¡¯ll stay there.¡± They moved carefully through the ruins, past collapsed pillars and shattered stonework. The monastery was larger than it had seemed from the ridge, its halls stretching deep into the hillside. Some doors were impassable, choked with rubble. Others yawned open, dark and empty. As they stepped inside, the air thickened. Not with dust or age, but with absence. It was the same silence they had felt in Moorpond¡ª the same waiting emptiness¡ª but this time, there was no frozen town, no lingering figures trapped in time. Only a place left behind. Annemarie¡¯s pulse quickened. Not because she felt watched, but because she didn¡¯t. For the first time since they had entered this cursed land, there was no pressure, no push, no pull. The Mirrorwood wasn¡¯t rejecting her here. The bond wasn¡¯t dragging her forward. This place existed in the in-between¡ª untouched by whatever had consumed everything else. And that, more than anything, unsettled her. Brandon stepped past her, sword in hand. ¡°We¡¯ll check the main hall. Stay close.¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. The last traces of daylight had bled away, leaving only the dim, flickering glow of their lanterns. The monastery swallowed the light hungrily, its shadows deep and unmoving, stretching too far in the corners of the broken halls. They walked in silence. Not because they wanted to, but because anything felt like it would break something fragile in the air. Something that had been waiting, undisturbed, for far too long. The main hall stretched ahead, vast and cavernous. Its arched ceiling was mostly intact despite the ruin. Their footsteps echoed off the stone, too loud, as if the space had been empty for so long that sound had forgotten how to belong here. It should have been a place of worship. It wasn¡¯t. The remnants of an altar stood at the far end, the stone cracked down the center splitting whatever inscription had once been carved into it. A mural loomed behind it, its paint faded, its figures long since worn away. Beneath it, the rows of pews had rotted, some collapsed into splinters, others still standing but warped by time and leaning at unnatural angles. Dust coated everything, untouched by the wind, settling thick in the air as they moved. But there was no scent of rot. No signs of life. No bodies. And yet, despite the emptiness, despite the silence, it did not feel abandoned. Brandon¡¯s grip tightened on his sword. ¡°I hate this place.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Melissa muttered, nudging aside a fallen beam with her boot. ¡°Means you have sense.¡± Julia moved cautiously down the aisle, scanning the hall with a wary eye. ¡°The roof is intact here. This is our best option for shelter.¡± ¡°Safe isn¡¯t the word I¡¯d use,¡± Brenna said under her breath, adjusting the straps of her satchel. She tilted her wrist, checking the state of her warding bracelet. The cracks had deepened, the runes nearly unreadable. Annemarie hovered near the entrance, her arms folded tightly against her chest. The Mirrorwood had swallowed everything. It had taken entire cities, twisted landscapes, corrupted whatever lingered in its grasp. So why had it left this? Why had it skipped this place? ¡°Something¡¯s off,¡± she murmured. Brandon turned, brow furrowing. ¡°You mean besides the obvious?¡± Annemarie hesitated. ¡°It¡¯s not just the ruin. The Mirrorwood should have taken this place. It should have twisted it, consumed it the way it did Moorpond. But it didn¡¯t. It left it alone.¡± Julia¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± And that was the problem. The Mirrorwood did not leave things alone. It either claimed or rejected, but the monastery was neither. Whatever had once protected it was still lingering. Brenna let out a slow breath, glancing back toward the entrance. ¡°If it¡¯s outside the Mirrorwood¡¯s grip, then it¡¯s the best shelter we¡¯re going to get. But I don¡¯t think we should get comfortable.¡± ¡°Agreed,¡± Julia said. ¡°We stay together. We don¡¯t split up. We keep watches through the night.¡± Melissa clicked her tongue. ¡°What a fantastic idea, considering none of us are going to sleep anyway.¡± They moved quickly, clearing space for camp. A cluster of the less-broken pews were dragged into a rough circle. Supplies were set down, and rations unpacked. Brenna scrawled small protective sigils onto the stone floor with a piece of chalk¡ª extra layers of security, just in case. Still, no one sat with their backs to the open room. No one let their guard down. The fire was small, barely more than embers, but it was something¡ª a fragile warmth against the cold stone, against the hollow vastness of the monastery. But as the night deepened, the silence did, too. Not the stillness of emptiness. Not the quiet of a place abandoned. But something listening. Something waiting. And then, just past the edge of the firelight, one of the pews shifted. It didn¡¯t collapse or crumble like one might expect. It moved with a sound like old wood groaning under pressure. Like something inside the monastery was stirring. Annemarie didn¡¯t breathe. Her pulse thundered against her ribs as she slowly, slowly turned her head. The pew that had been tilting slightly to one side was now upright. Centered. As if someone had set it back in place. The hair on the back of her neck rose. ¡°Did anyone else see that?¡± she whispered. Melissa had already drawn her daggers, eyes locked on the same spot. ¡°Yeah,¡± she murmured. ¡°We¡¯re not alone.¡± And as if in response, somewhere deep in the halls beyond the fire¡¯s reach¡ª a door creaked open. The sound echoed through the cavernous space, slow and deliberate. A long, groaning creak, followed by the soft, unmistakable click of a door settling into place. No one moved. No one breathed. Annemarie¡¯s pulse hammered against her ribs. The pew. The door. The weight in the air¡ª thick, pressing, like a held breath just waiting to exhale. Brandon shifted first, hand tightening on his sword as he rose to his feet. ¡°That wasn¡¯t the wind.¡± ¡°No shit,¡± Melissa hissed, already crouched with her daggers in her hands. Her eyes flicked toward the yawning darkness beyond the main hall, where the sound had come from. For a long moment, nothing followed. The monastery held its silence like a thing alive, pressing in around them, waiting. Then¡ª a slow, deliberate shuffle. A footstep. Faint. Muffled. But unmistakable. It was not the sound of debris shifting. Not the groan of the old structure settling under its own weight. Someone was there. Brandon moved instinctively, stepping in front of Annemarie. ¡°Stay behind me.¡± Julia¡¯s fingers twitched toward her belt, where her knife hung sheathed. ¡°We need to move. Now.¡± ¡°Move where?¡± Brenna¡¯s voice was tight, barely above a whisper. ¡°Back outside, where we know something¡¯s watching? Or deeper in, where something¡¯s waiting?¡± No answer. There wasn¡¯t a good one. The fire flickered, casting their shadows long against the cracked stone walls. The mural behind the broken altar seemed different now¡ª its faded figures stretched unnaturally in the shifting light, blank faces turned toward them. Another sound. A whisper of movement in the hall beyond. The fire guttered suddenly, as if something had passed too close to it. Melissa swore. ¡°We are not waiting around to see what that is.¡± Brandon nodded once, jaw tight. ¡°We take the main corridor. Move fast, stay together.¡± They fell into step without another word, keeping low, staying close. Annemarie felt it again¡ª the pull westward, the bond¡¯s silent insistence. But it did not guide her here. Did not push her forward or drag her back. It left her to decide, and that terrified her more than anything else. They reached the edge of the hall, where the arched doorway led into the deeper corridors of the monastery. The firelight didn¡¯t reach beyond it. Just before they stepped through, Brenna¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°Wait,¡± she whispered. They froze. She raised a shaking hand, pointing. At the far end of the hall, where the last slivers of dying firelight met the dark, a figure stood. Still. Silent. Watching. And then, just as they saw it¡ª the fire went out. Chapter 19 For a moment, all was silence. The figure at the end of the hall did not move. It did not lunge or charge or dissipate into smoke. It simply stood there, as if waiting. Then, the air shifted. The darkness was no longer empty. It was filled with movement, with sound. Footsteps rustled against stone, a low murmur of voices layered upon each other, overlapping in a rhythm like the tide. Light bloomed faintly in the distance, golden and flickering, the warm glow of candles and oil lamps lining the walls. The monastery was awake. Figures moved through the halls¡ª men and women dressed in simple robes, their hands full of scrolls and ledgers, their voices hushed but hurried. A group of monks passed by the party without a glance, muttering in quiet tones about supply shortages, the worsening condition of the roads, the encroaching wood. Annemarie¡¯s breath caught. ¡°Do you see¡ª?¡± ¡°They don¡¯t see us,¡± Julia whispered. She waved a hand in front of one of the monks, but the woman continued on, expression grim as she spoke to her companion. ¡°We¡¯re not here,¡± Brandon said, his voice low. ¡°Not really.¡± Melissa exhaled slowly. ¡°So we¡¯re just... witnessing this?¡± ¡°They must be echoes,¡± Brenna murmured, glancing around. ¡°Residual magic. The monastery is showing us something.¡± Annemarie turned, watching as more monks and nuns moved through the vast hall¡ª ghostly figures of the past, untouched by time. If this was a memory, then it was an old one. The Mirrorwood had not yet swallowed the land, but its shadow stretched long in their words. One of the monks, a lean man with a salt-and-pepper beard, gestured toward the gathering crowd. His voice was weary, resigned. ¡°Moorpond will not last the month.¡± The woman beside him, a severe-looking nun, pressed her lips into a thin line. ¡°We¡¯ve known that for some time.¡± ¡°Knowing it does not make it easier,¡± the monk replied. He glanced over his shoulder, expression shadowed. ¡°Lady Callista and her household have chosen to remain with the people.¡± At the name, Annemarie inhaled sharply, gaze darting to Julia. ¡°Callista?¡± Julia whispered. ¡°She¡¯s¡ª¡± ¡°She¡¯s still in Moorpond?¡± Another monk asked. ¡°For now,¡± the first monk confirmed. ¡°But her grandson, young Lord Hiram, has already left. He and his new wife the Duchess of Byfox set out for her estates not three weeks past. Lords Hiram the Elder and Turel urged him to go.¡± Brenna went still. The others didn¡¯t notice at first, still piecing together the conversation unraveling before them, still trying to connect names and places. But Annemarie saw the shift in Brenna¡¯s face, the way her fingers curled into fists. ¡°Brenna?¡± Annemarie asked quietly. Brenna swallowed, her throat working around something heavy. ¡°That¡¯s¡ª¡± Her voice came out strained, uncertain. ¡°The younger Hiram they¡¯re talking about and his wife¡ª that¡¯s Callista Nazenne¡¯s mother and father.¡± The weight of it landed hard between them. Julia¡¯s stomach flipped. ¡°Wait¡ª¡± ¡°Lady Callista Ettaria Arai was probably Callista Nazenne¡¯s namesake. A different generation. She¡¯s Nazenne¡¯s great-grandmother.¡± The monks continued speaking, oblivious to the revelation tearing through the party. ¡°Moorpond is lost,¡± one said grimly. ¡°Byfox has some time, but if nothing changes, it will fall too.¡± ¡°Where are the people going?¡± another asked. ¡°If they can afford it? To Swynden. Or Lolinglas, if they can make the journey.¡± There was a long pause. Then the nun who had spoken earlier shook her head. ¡°Swynden is still in chaos. Rummi and Geurla are pressing for power, and The Nameless One refuses to name them queens. He himself still hasn¡¯t been crowned officially.¡± A bitter laugh. ¡°And why should he? His hands are just as stained as theirs.¡± The voices moved past them, monks and nuns slipping into the corridors beyond, their figures flickering like candlelight before vanishing into the depths of the monastery. And then the warmth bled out of the room. The golden glow of the lamps flickered, dimmed¡ª extinguished. And the silence that followed was different. Not empty. Not quite. Waiting. Brandon gripped his sword. ¡°What now?¡± No answer. Annemarie¡¯s pulse pounded against her ribs. The echoes of the past had faded, but the monastery was still awake. And they were still inside it. No one spoke. The air still held the weight of voices twenty-three years faded, the remnants of footsteps that should no longer exist. The warm candlelight had vanished, leaving only the deep, swallowing dark. Annemarie turned, her pulse still pounding in her ears. The figures were gone. The voices had faded. The monastery had gone still once more. But it had not returned to how it was before. She could feel it. Something was listening. Julia exhaled, steady and slow. ¡°Let¡¯s get back to camp.¡± No one argued. They moved carefully, footfalls hushed against the stone. Even though the monastery was silent now, none of them wanted to shatter whatever fragile peace remained. They retraced their steps through the ruined halls, past the broken altar and the gaping windows, their path leading them back to where they had made camp. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. The fire was back. Burning low, but steady. The sight of it sent a wave of relief through Annemarie¡¯s chest¡ª something real, something untouched by whatever they had just witnessed. The makeshift camp remained as they had left it, their bedrolls and supplies undisturbed. Brenna sat down first, rubbing a hand over her face. ¡°Well, that was¡ª¡± She hesitated, shaking her head. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what that was.¡± ¡°Some kind of memory,¡± Julia murmured, crouching near the fire. ¡°The monastery showed us something. Something important.¡± Melissa dropped onto her bedroll with a long sigh. ¡°Yeah? Well, I¡¯d rather not see any more. That was way too much ghost nonsense for one day.¡± Brandon didn¡¯t sit. He stood just beyond the firelight, staring into the darkened halls. His sword remained in his hand. ¡°Do you think it¡¯ll happen again?¡± he asked. No one answered immediately. Annemarie ran a hand down her arm, fingers pressing into her skin. She still felt unsettled, still felt the weight of something lingering unseen, but¡ª ¡°No,¡± she said finally. ¡°I think... it¡¯s done.¡± The monastery had wanted them to see. Now, it had returned to silence. Brandon exhaled through his nose and finally sheathed his sword. He sat down, but he didn¡¯t look at ease. None of them did. They arranged themselves in a loose circle around the fire, their postures tense, minds still wrapped in the weight of what they had learned. Callista Ettaria Arai. Hiram and Turel. Young Hiram and Vevra Nazenne. The past had unfolded before them, clear as day, and with it, a connection none of them had expected. Brenna looked down, her fingers tracing absent patterns in the dust. ¡°They were her parents,¡± she murmured. ¡°Callista¡¯s parents.¡± Silence again. Melissa drew her knees up to her chest. ¡°We saw the beginning of the end,¡± she muttered. ¡°Moorpond¡¯s last days. Swynden still in chaos after the Cleansing. It didn¡¯t sound like¡ª what was it? Rummi and Geurla?¡ª were very helpful.¡± Julia exhaled sharply. ¡°They didn¡¯t stand a chance.¡± No one wanted to say it. No one wanted to admit that they had just watched history unfold in the worst way possible. Annemarie lay back, staring at the vaulted ceiling above them where cracks split the stone like veins. The pull was back, the bond tugging her toward something unseen. But the monastery had not pushed her forward. It hadn¡¯t rejected her, either. It had simply let her witness. Whatever power had once kept this place untouched had allowed them to see a piece of the past. But why? What did it want them to understand? The fire crackled softly, sending flickering shadows against the cold stone. No one slept easily. But nothing else happened.
Morning came reluctantly. The first pale slivers of dawn crept through the hollow windows of the monastery, casting long beams of watery light across the cracked stone floor. It did little to chase away the lingering weight of the night. The fire had burned down to ash¡ª no one had slept well enough to tend it. Annemarie sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. Her muscles ached from the cold and the hard ground, but it was nothing compared to the dull pressure in her chest. She exhaled. Brandon was already awake, crouched near the remains of the fire, sharpening his sword with slow, deliberate movements. His eyes flicked up as she moved. ¡°Morning, love.¡± Annemarie nodded, stretching her sore arms. Julia was still curled in her blanket, though Annemarie could tell she wasn¡¯t really asleep. Her breathing was too even, too controlled. Melissa lay sprawled on her back, her arm draped over her face as if she could block out the world. Brenna sat cross-legged nearby, idly running her fingers over the cracked surface of her warding bracelet. For a moment, no one spoke. Then Julia let out a long breath and sat up, shoving her tangled blonde hair out of her face. ¡°So. We survived the night.¡± Melissa groaned into her sleeve. ¡°I don¡¯t want to do do this first thing in the morning.¡± ¡°Do what?¡± Julia shot back. Melissa gestured vaguely. ¡°Thinking. Talking. Remembering that ghosts are real.¡± Brenna snorted. ¡°You¡¯re in the wrong world for that, Mel.¡± Melissa made a vague noise of protest and rolled onto her side, burying her face in her bedroll. Julia stretched, rolling out her stiff shoulders. ¡°We¡¯ve got two days to reach Byfox. We should get moving soon.¡± Brandon glanced toward the monastery entrance, where the first rays of daylight barely reached beyond the threshold. ¡°I¡¯ll be honest. I¡¯ll feel a lot better when we¡¯re out of here.¡± No one disagreed. They packed up quickly, moving with quiet efficiency. The eerie stillness of the monastery had returned, and no one wanted to linger in it. They left the firepit behind, scattered their footprints, and stepped back into the morning air. The sky was still choked with clouds, but the air was crisp. Their breaths misted in front of them as they descended from the ridge, the monastery¡¯s broken silhouette looming behind them like an unspoken warning. They did not look back. The road west was rough and uneven, more a path of compacted dirt and broken stone than anything truly maintained. What might have been signposts had rotted away, and the trees on either side stood crooked and bare, skeletal branches reaching toward the sky like grasping hands. No one spoke much at first. The weight of what they had seen in the monastery still clung to them¡ª Moorpond¡¯s fate, Byfox¡¯s impending fall, the names they recognized woven into a history that had already happened. It had felt real. Not just words in a book or distant echoes of the past. They had seen the worry on the monks¡¯ faces, heard their voices. Felt the fear and resignation hanging in the air. ¡°They had no idea,¡± Annemarie murmured suddenly. Julia glanced at her. ¡°What?¡± ¡°The monks. The nuns. The people in the monastery.¡± Annemarie frowned, watching the path beneath her boots. ¡°They knew Moorpond was doomed and Byfox had some time¡ª¡± Brandon exhaled through his nose. ¡°But we know how that turned out.¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± Annemarie¡¯s stomach twisted. ¡°Hiram and Turel¡¯s desire to protect their people was... twisted. And Byfox still fell.¡± She sighed. ¡°We know how it ends.¡± ¡°And we can¡¯t do anything about it.¡± Brenna¡¯s voice was quiet. Melissa rubbed her arms, walking a little faster to keep warm. ¡°I hate that,¡± she muttered. ¡°Watching people talk about their future when you already know they don¡¯t have one.¡± No one responded. The wind picked up, rustling the brittle grass along the roadside. Julia¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°If the monastery wanted to show us something, why that?¡± Brandon looked at her. ¡°What do you mean?¡± She gestured vaguely. ¡°Why tell us about Callista Ettaria and not Callista Nazenne? Why tell us about Young Hiram and Vevra leaving instead of what happened to them? Why show us the beginning of the fall, not the end?¡± Annemarie frowned. It was a good question. The monastery had not shown them death. It had not shown them the destruction of Byfox, the full force of the Mirrorwood¡¯s curse, or the desperate final moments of those who stayed behind. It had shown them the people who had left. Annemarie swallowed. ¡°It wasn¡¯t a warning,¡± she realized aloud. ¡°It was a decision.¡± Brenna¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°The Ettarias stayed. The monks said Callista Ettaria Arai and her family chose to remain in Moorpond. But Young Hiram and Vevra left for Byfox.¡± Annemarie¡¯s fingers tightened around the straps of her pack. ¡°The monastery showed us a choice. The ones who stayed, and the ones who ran.¡± The wind whistled through the trees. Brenna¡¯s expression was unreadable. ¡°And?¡± Annemarie hesitated. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± But she had a feeling they weren¡¯t done learning what the past had to tell them. And whatever waited in Byfox¡ª it hadn¡¯t even started. Chapter 20 Byfox had fallen long before the Mirrorwood took it. The city had not been swallowed in an instant, nor consumed in the unnatural stillness that had frozen Moorpond in time. Byfox had been gutted first¡ª brought to ruin by mortal hands before the creeping dark ever reached its gates. The first sign of what remained was the noble estate, or what was left of it. Once, it had been the heart of Byfox, a grand house of wealth and influence, with tall windows that caught the sunlight and banners that fluttered from the towers. Now, it stood as a ruin. A skeletal wreck of blackened stone and collapsed timber, bones half-swallowed by the ashen ground. What fire had not devoured had crumbled beneath the weight of the Mirrorwood. Charred beams jutted at odd angles from the rubble, the remnants of upper floors that had caved inward, burying whatever had been left inside. The main hall, where lords and ladies and honored guests had once gathered, lay open to the sky. Its vaulted ceiling had long since collapsed, its archways twisted and broken. The walls still bore scorch marks, dark streaks trailing like clawed fingers toward the heavens. Unlike Moorpond, where the Curse had simply stopped time, Byfox had suffered its end in full. The Cleansing had taken this place before the Mirrorwood ever had the chance. And the dead were still here to prove it. Their presence lingered¡ª not in the unnatural stillness of those lost to the Curse, but in the remnants they had left behind. Scattered through the ruins, half-buried beneath soot and debris, lay the first true corpses they had seen on this journey¡ª or what remained of them. Skeletons curled in unnatural shapes, their brittle fingers clutching at nothing, their bodies left where they had fallen. Some had once worn fine silks, their fabric reduced to nothing but fragile scraps clinging to bone. Others had died in armor, rusted plates still buckled tight around leg bones, helmets cracked and blackened where the heat had been worst. These were not the untouched, unbreathing figures frozen in Moorpond¡¯s eerie half-life. These people had not simply vanished. They had burned. The acrid scent of old ash and something sickly sweet clung to the ruins, curling in the cold air like a presence of its own. It wasn¡¯t decay¡ª not exactly. It was the ghost of fire, of destruction that had burned so hot and fast that it had left its mark in the very bones of the earth. Brandon lifted a hand to his face, his nose wrinkling at the stench. ¡°Jesus,¡± he muttered. ¡°It still smells like¡ª¡± He stopped short, his gaze flickering over the twisted remains of a charred wooden beam. His jaw tightened. ¡°Like death?¡± Melissa offered, crouching near a skeleton half-buried in the soot. The ribs were hollowed out and blackened along the edges. The skull was still intact, tilted at an unnatural angle as if its owner had fallen mid-motion, hands stretched toward something they had never reached. ¡°They didn¡¯t die to the Curse,¡± she said, brushing ash from the exposed bones with careful fingers. ¡°This was fire.¡± Julia stood beside her, arms crossed, her gaze scanning the ruined estate. Its hollowed windows stared back at them like empty eye sockets, watching their every moment. ¡°Two years ago,¡± she murmured. ¡°When Byfox fell.¡± Annemarie swallowed. ¡°The Cleansing.¡± The words settled over them like dust, heavy and suffocating. She had known they would find this. They all had. The fall of Byfox had been recorded, spoken of in hushed voices, a tragedy acknowledged but never fully reckoned with. They had known it was coming, that the Cleansing had reached beyond Swynden, spreading through the noble houses of Milana like a controlled blaze, burning away anything tied to the House of Tormevi. But knowing it and seeing it were two very different things. Brandon exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. ¡°We knew this was coming. We knew we¡¯d find¡ª¡± He cut himself off, shaking his head. ¡°Never mind.¡± Because the truth of it sat in front of them, in the brittle bones and scorched stone. Unlike Moorpond, where the people have simply ceased, bodies never rotting¡ª Byfox had bled first. There had been screams here. There had been a struggle. Melissa wiped a hand over her forehead, even though the air was cool. ¡°Is it just me, or does it feel like we¡¯re¡ª¡± ¡°Drowning?¡± Julia supplied. Melissa pointed at her without looking up. ¡°That.¡± Brandon pressed a hand to his chest, fingers splaying slightly as if testing the weight of the air. His heart was hammering too fast, his breath heavier than it should have been. ¡°Merris said the Mirrorwood rejects anything untainted. Maybe this is how it starts.¡± Brenna, who had been standing apart from the group, rolled her shoulders uncomfortably. She adjusted the strap of her pack. Normally, she carried herself with easy confidence, but now her gaze was distant, unfocused. ¡°It¡¯s worse here than in Moorpond,¡± she muttered, voice low. ¡°More... aware.¡± Julia frowned, turning toward her. ¡°You mean the Curse?¡± Brenna exhaled through her nose. ¡°I mean this place.¡± No one responded immediately. They didn¡¯t have to¡ª they all felt it. The Curse had not taken Byfox in the same way it had consumed other places. It had reached it late, after the damage had already been done. After fire and violence had already hollowed out the city. But that did not mean the Mirrorwood had ignored it. Something was still here. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Annemarie barely heard them. The pressure in her skull was growing, the pull forward intensifying, a slow, steady heartbeat that was not her own. She turned toward the ruins of the noble estate, staring past the blackened walls, past the scorched remnants of what had once been a house of power, wealth, and history. Of Callista Nazenne. The bond was leading her there. And she had the horrible, suffocating feeling that someone was waiting for her to arrive. The burned-out manor loomed over them, skeletal and broken, its blackened stone walls barely standing beneath the weight of time and ruin. What had once been the proud estate of House Nazenne, a symbol of wealth and power, was now little more than a graveyard. The land around it was ashen and lifeless, the ground cracked and dry where gardens had once flourished. Ivy, brittle and colorless, curled feebly around scorched columns, as if even nature had tried to reclaim this place and failed. The silence that pressed down upon them was heavy, thick with the remnants of old smoke¡ª a scent that should have long since faded. The grand entrance hall had once been lined with banners bearing the Nazenne sigil, but now only charred remnants of fabric remained. They clung to the walls like ghostly shrouds. The ceiling was gone, and the upper floors collapsed inwards, leaving jagged beams stretching skyward like the ribs of some long-dead beast. Debris littered the ground, half-melted candlesticks, shattered glass, fragments of what might have been fine furniture now reduced to unrecognizable blackened husks. A grand staircase still stood, though barely, its steps warped and uneven, the banister scorched beyond repair. But the worst part wasn¡¯t the destruction. It was the bodies¡ª and they were everywhere. Brandon exhaled slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Saints preserve us.¡± There was no preservation here. Only the echoes of what had been.
The air inside the ruined manor was thick with soot and silence. Their footsteps stirred the ash, kicking up small, ghostlike tendrils of dust that clung to their boots and refused to settle. No one spoke as they moved deeper into the estate, past doorways that gaped open like mouths, past walls scorched so black that the old tapestries had burned into them. They left only faint, shadowy impressions of what had once hung there. The dining hall lay ahead. Its doors had been blown inward¡ª whether by fire, force, or something else, none of them could say. Inside, the long wooden table remained eerily intact, though its surface was warped with heat and covered in a layer of ash so thick it dulled the once-polished wood. The chairs, though blackened, still stood in place, arranged as if waiting for a meal that would never come. And around the table, five skeletons sat. Two adults, three children. Brenna exhaled sharply through her nose, stepping forward before she even realized she was moving. She barely heard the others behind her, barely noticed Julia¡¯s quiet intake of breath or the way Melissa shifted uncomfortably, her usual bravado slipping in the face of something so fundamentally wrong. Because this didn¡¯t make sense. She counted again. Two adults. Three children. The adults sat at either end of the table. The larger skeleton, broad-shouldered even in death, had been seated in the head chair. The smaller one, presumably his wife, had slumped slightly to one side, her bony fingers still curled against the table¡¯s edge. Between them, the children sat neatly, their fragile skeletons still small and delicate. And there was the problem. There should have been four. Brenna¡¯s mind worked through the knowledge she had, turning over facts like pieces of broken glass. It made sense that Callista¡¯s skeleton wasn¡¯t here¡ª she was alive, after all, somewhere beyond this ruined city. But Callista had another sibling. And that sibling¡¯s body was not at this table. Her brow furrowed, her fingers clenching and unclenching at her sides. The Cleansing had taken all of House Nazenne, burned them in their own home, left their remains to sit in these charred ruins like a twisted monument to history¡¯s cruelty. There was no reason why one of them should be missing. Brenna swallowed hard. ¡°This isn¡¯t right.¡± Brandon glanced at her incredulously. ¡°No part of this is right.¡± ¡°No,¡± Brenna said, sharper this time. ¡°There¡¯s someone missing.¡± Julia¡¯s gaze snapped to her. ¡°Who?¡± Brenna hesitated. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. But Hiram II Ettaria and Vevra Nazenne had five children: Callista, Jochem, Turel, Aida, and Hiram III. All named after relatives.¡± She gestured at the skeletons at the table. ¡°This accounts for three of them.¡± Melissa frowned. ¡°And the fourth?¡± Brenna shook her head. ¡°They should be here. But they¡¯re not.¡± The silence that followed felt heavier than the ash in the air. Annemarie¡¯s hands curled into fists. The pull in her chest, the constant drumbeat of the bond, was still guiding her forward¡ª westward, ever westward. But the realization settled over her uneasily, yet another pressure to consider. Brenna was right. If Callista was the only survivor of the massacre of Byfox, her entire family should have died here. But there were only five bodies. Where was the sixth? The fire had long since burned out, but its remnants still clung to the ruined stone. Soot streaked in the cracks, the bricks warped from unbearable heat. Ash pooled in the crevices of the floor, gathering like dust over the years. Untouched by time, by wind, by anything at all. It was as if the room itself had been sealed away from the world and left to rot in silence. Brenna crouched beside the fireplace, brushing a gloved hand over the blackened stone. ¡°Duchess Vevra Nazenne was one of Kiernen¡¯s strongest supporters,¡± she said, voice devoid of its usual wry humor. ¡°Loyal. Loud about it. Even with the threat of the cleansing, she refused to run.¡± She gestured toward the table, to the remains of what had once been a family. ¡°Someone came here and made an example out of her.¡± Julia crossed her arms, her gaze flickering between the skeletal figures, to the ruined walls, to the darkened corners of the room where the fire had not reached. ¡°But Callista survived.¡± Brenna exhaled sharply. ¡°Apparently.¡± She rocked back on her heels, glancing toward the gaping remains of what had once been a doorway. Beyond it, the sky stretched heavy with clouds, the Mirrorwood pressing at the edges of the world. ¡°The Curse came later. Two years ago, this was just a pile of corpses and ruined stone. But then the Mirrorwood crept in and took the rest.¡± Brandon shook his head, running a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. ¡°But if one of the siblings escaped too¡ª¡± Julia finished the thought before he could. ¡°They might still be alive somewhere.¡± The words settled over them, sinking deep, heavy with implications none of them had fully considered. Annemarie¡¯s fingers curled against her sleeve, her breath shallow. The bond had never faltered, never wavered. It had always led her toward Callista. But now, standing here in the ruins of the Nazenne estate, staring at the bones left behind, a question crept in. They had come looking for Callista. But what if they weren¡¯t just chasing one Nazenne survivor? What if there were two? Chapter 21 The air in the ruined manor had changed. At first, it was subtle. A barely noticeable shift in the heavy stillness, a faint stirring of dust where no breeze should have reached. The ash at their feet, undisturbed for years, whispered against itself in dry, delicate swirls. But then the weight came. Heavy. Crushing. It was not a presence that could be seen or heard, but felt¡ª thick as smoke, pressing against their ribs, their breath, their thoughts. It crept in like the slow gathering of a storm, sinking into the marrow of their bones, coiling through the empty spaces between heartbeats. The Mirrorwood was aware of them now. And it did not like intruders. Annemarie shivered as the sensation crawled down her spine, cold and sharp, settling like a blade pressed lightly to the base of her skull. A warning. A promise. The prickle of unseen eyes. The certainty that something was watching. She turned. Her gaze swept across the wreckage of the manor, past the burned-out archways and the hollowed skeletons of rooms that had once held laughter, warmth, and life. The ruins stretched before her in an expanse of blackened stone and collapsed timber, a graveyard of memories long since buried beneath the weight of time and fire. Empty. Except they weren¡¯t. She saw her then. A child. Small, frail, no more than nine or ten, standing just beyond the shattered bones of the estate. Beneath the skeletal remains of a collapsed balcony. She was barely more than a smudge against the ruined backdrop, her limbs thin, her face streaked with soot. Wide, dark eyes¡ª too dark, too deep¡ª watched her. She did not move. She did not speak. She only watched. Annemarie¡¯s breath caught. Her pulse slammed against her ribs, the urgency rising before she could even understand why. ¡°Brandon¡ª¡± she started, stepping forward, her fingers half-lifting as if reaching for something that wasn¡¯t there¡ª The girl blinked. And then she was gone. Not fled. Not turned and run. Not even a flicker of movement. Just gone. The space where she had stood lay empty, undisturbed. No trail in the ash, no shift in the ruins. No sound, no breath, no trace of her existence at all. Annemarie¡¯s stomach dropped into a cold, hollow pit. ¡°Did you see that?¡± she whispered. Brandon¡¯s frown deepened. His eyes swept the ruins, sharp, searching, but finding only the lifeless husk of Byfox. ¡°See what?¡± ¡°A little girl¡ª¡± Annemarie turned in a slow circle, eyes flicking between the crumbling archways, the gaping hollows of burned-out windows, the long-dead remains of the house that had once belonged to Callista Nazenne. But there was nothing. Only silence. ¡°She was right there. Watching us.¡± Julia and Melissa exchanged a glance¡ª uneasy, careful, something unspoken passing between them. ¡°Anne,¡± Julia said, tone measured, deliberate. ¡°Are you sure¡ª¡± The ground shifted. Not an earthquake. Not a tremor. Something deeper. The ruins inhaled. The weight in the air sharpened into something heavier, something pressing down from above and curling up from below. Stone groaned, a slow, drawn-out sound like ancient bones shifting after too long at rest. Charred beams creaked, their blackened frames brittle beneath the weight of forgotten history. The dead city stirred. Brenna¡¯s fingers flew to her wrist, pressing against the warding bracelet as if the fractured runes there might offer reassurance. They didn¡¯t. ¡°Shit,¡± she muttered. ¡°It¡¯s reacting.¡± Melissa tensed beside her, knives already in her hands, her stance low and ready. ¡°Reacting to what?¡± The answer came in the movement at their feet. The ash shifted¡ª not tossed by wind, not scattered by their steps, but moving. Rippling outward in slow, deliberate waves, like breath from the earth itself. ¡°To us,¡± Annemarie whispered. She felt it all too keenly. The pull of the bond. The pressure of the Mirrorwood. The weight of something beneath them, slow and waking. The ruins exhaled. A slow, deep shift, like something vast and unseen stretching after too long in stillness. The weight pressing against them grew heavier, thick as damp wool, curling around their ribs, their throats, their breath. And then the silence cracked. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. A sharp, splintering pop¡ª wood snapping under pressure, stone grinding against itself. Somewhere deep in the manor, a sound like footsteps echoed, impossibly distant yet too close at the same time. Melissa¡¯s grip on her daggers tightened. ¡°I hate this.¡± ¡°You think I don¡¯t?¡± Julia muttered, shifting her weight, scanning the ruins. The ground beneath them trembled. Brandon took a step back, sword raised, jaw clenched tight. ¡°We need to move.¡± Brenna¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line, her fingers still curled around the cracked edges of her warding bracelet. ¡°We might be a little past that point.¡± Annemarie¡¯s heart pounded against her ribs. The pull forward was relentless now, a pulse deep in her bones, tugging her back toward the burned-out husk of a manor. Toward the wreckage of House Nazenne. The girl. The moment she had disappeared, the city had woken up. Annemarie had a horrible, sinking feeling that that wasn¡¯t a coincidence. She turned sharply, stepping involuntarily toward the ruined doorway leading into the estate. ¡°We have to¡ª¡± The ash at their feet lurched. Not wind. Not breath. Something beneath them moved. The rippling deepened, spreading outward from the shattered remains of the manor like ink bleeding into water. The tendrils of it curled unnaturally, slithering between the stones, creeping up the broken walls. Melissa let out a sharp breath. ¡°Yeah, okay, we¡¯re leaving. Now.¡± She turned toward the street¡ª And the first shadow took shape. It rose from the ash as if forming from the ruins themselves, its edges blurred, flickering, indistinct. Not solid. Not human. A figure of deep black, its shape shifting, unfixed¡ª its limbs stretching long, its head tilting too sharply to one side. It did not have eyes, but Annemarie felt it looking at her. Her stomach clenched. Brandon swore, stepping between her and the thing, his blade raised. ¡°Move.¡± ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you know by now that your sword isn¡¯t going to work?¡± Julia hissed. Brandon flipped her off. But the figure did not attack. It didn¡¯t lunge. It simply stood. And then, another appeared. And another. All rising from the ruins, from the crumbling bones of Byfox itself, their forms flickering in and out of focus. A slow, whispering murmur spread through the ruined streets, a sound just below comprehension. Not words. Not voices. Something older. Something wrong. Brenna inhaled sharply. ¡°This isn¡¯t just the Mirrorwood.¡± Julia¡¯s hand went to her belt, her fingers curling around the hilt of her ruined dagger. ¡°Then what the hell is it? ¡° Brenna didn¡¯t answer. She didn¡¯t know. The air thickened, pressing against them like unseen hands. The shadows stood still, watching, waiting, but the ruins of Byfox were shifting around them. The walls of the manor groaned, blackened stone shuddering in place, the splintered remains of its wooden beams cracking under invisible strain. The ground beneath their feet felt unsteady¡ª not crumbling, not breaking apart, but wrong. Like something beneath them had begun to breathe. Brandon¡¯s sword remained raised, but his grip was tight. ¡°We need to move. Now.¡± ¡°No argument here,¡± Melissa muttered, brandishing her daggers at the looming shadows. Julia¡¯s eyes darted between the shifting shadows, calculating, assessing. ¡°The eastern road¡ª¡± ¡°No.¡± Brenna¡¯s voice was sharp, immediate. ¡°We don¡¯t want to go back.¡± The figures had begun to shift. Not stepping forward, not changing, but adjusting, tilting their head at unnatural angles. The whispering around them grew louder, not words, not voices, but understanding. The city itself was responding to them. And it was closing in. ¡°We need an opening,¡± Brandon said, scanning for an exit that didn¡¯t lead them into a dead end. ¡°We don¡¯t have one,¡± Brenna shot back, her fingers twitching at her side as though debating whether magic would work against whatever this was. The ash stirred. The shadows twitched. And, as one, they all felt it. A pull¡ª not Annemarie¡¯s pull, the pull of the bond. Not calling them forward, not leading them toward Callista, but pressing outward. A pressure, a force coiling inside their chests, curling through veins like fire waiting to be released. ¡°What the fuck is that?¡± Julia spat. Annemarie¡¯s breath came fast, uneven. ¡°It¡¯s rejecting us.¡± And it wasn¡¯t just pushing them out¡ª it was trying to erase them. They wouldn¡¯t make it out in time. Not if the city had decided they weren¡¯t meant to leave. Unless¡ª Annemarie didn¡¯t think. Her hands lifted, fingers curling as something deep inside pulled¡ª not from the Mirrorwood, not from Callista, but from herself. A warmth¡ª sharp and insistent¡ª flared beneath her skin. Not fire. Not light. Something in between. Annemarie exhaled sharply and pushed. The air shattered. A pulse of force erupted outward from her chest, ripping through the ruins in a wave of crackling heat and sound. The ash on the ground exploded outward in all directions, blasting back the shifting figures, sending them flickering and breaking apart like smoke in a gale. The ruined walls of Byfox screamed. Wood snapped. Stone shuddered. The city itself recoiled. For a moment, everything stopped. The pressure lifted, the weight pressing down on them vanishing as if the ruins themselves had flinched from her touch. And then Brandon grabbed her wrist. ¡°Run.¡± They ran. Through the shattered ruins, past broken walls and streets that twisted even as they moved, past doorways where figures no longer stood, past alleys where whispers had fallen silent. The city no longer tried to stop them, but it was watching. Annemarie didn¡¯t look back. She felt the weight of it, the unseen eyes lingering just beyond sight, the memory of what had tried to hold them in place. The remains of Byfox faded into the horizon behind them, and as they crossed the final threshold of the ruined city, the wind exhaled. Like something disappointed to have seen them go. Chapter 22 The road stretched ahead, uneven and fractured, winding through the skeletal remains of what had once been countryside. They didn¡¯t stop moving. The pressure of Byfox was gone, but none of them spoke. The only sound was the steady rhythm of boots against dirt, the occasional rustling of brittle grass in the wind. The sky overhead remained heavy, thick with unmoving clouds that smothered the light. Everything felt stretched thin, as if the world itself had worn down to its last threads. They were safe, for now¡ª whatever that meant in the cradle of the Mirrorwood. But the weight of their realizations in Byfox still clung to them. Annemarie barely felt her own exhaustion. Her heartbeat was still too fast, her chest still warm from the magic she had pulled on back in the ruins. It hadn¡¯t left her, not entirely. The sensation of something inside her waking up still crackled beneath her skin, humming like a thread drawn too tight. It wasn¡¯t just that. The bond had shifted, pulling her slightly north in addition to the constant west. She pressed a hand to her ribs, steadying herself, trying to make sense of the change. It had always been a steady force, an unseen thread leading her toward Callista, but now¡ª now it was even sharper. Urgent. As if something ahead had finally noticed her coming and decided to pull her in faster. That wasn¡¯t comforting. Brandon cast a glance at her, his eyes narrowed in concern. He didn¡¯t say anything, but she could tell¡ª he knew something was different. They kept moving. The landscape had shifted. The ruins of Byfox had given way to land that was empty, abandoned. No signs of villages, no old farms, nothing but open fields and patches of twisted, wind-worn trees. The further they traveled, the less the world felt real. ¡°We stop here,¡± Julia said finally, breaking the silence. No one argued. They had made it far enough away from Byfox that the presence of the city no longer pressed against them, but no one wanted to risk traveling further in the dark. They found a patch of land near the remains of an old road marker, long since weathered beyond recognition. Brandon and Melissa set up the fire. Julia unpacked the dwindling rations. Brenna checked her wards, frowning at the deepened cracks along the surface of her bracelet. Annemarie sat stiffly on her bedroll, her hands curled against her knees. She could feel the bond stretching out ahead of her, toward something unseen. Something waiting. Brenna sat down beside her, running a hand through her hair. ¡°You gonna tell us what¡¯s wrong, or are you just going to sit there looking haunted?¡± Annemarie hesitated, then exhaled. ¡°I think the bond shifted.¡± Brenna¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but Annemarie could see the sharp flicker of thought behind her eyes. ¡°Where?¡± ¡°Northwest,¡± she murmured. ¡°It¡¯s pulling me harder now.¡± Brenna hummed, thoughtful. ¡°Any reason why?¡± Annemarie shook her head. ¡°Not that I know of.¡± Brandon poked at the fire, frowning. ¡°We were already heading west. Why would it change direction now?¡± Julia glanced at Annemarie. ¡°Does it feel... different?¡± Annemarie hesitated. ¡°It¡¯s still the same bond. But now it feels¡ª sharper. Like Callista is closer than she was before.¡± Brenna¡¯s fingers tapped idly against the cracked surface of her warding bracelet. ¡°Or like she¡¯s moving.¡± A heavy silence settled between them. It wasn¡¯t an impossible thought. The bond wasn¡¯t just guiding Annemarie toward Callista¡ª it was linking them. If she had switched direction, she wasn¡¯t staying in one place. They weren¡¯t chasing a lost woman. Callista was still moving. The fire had burned down to embers. Flickering orange light danced across the uneven ground, casting shifting shadows over the camp. The night was too still¡ª no wind, no rustling leaves. Just the steady crackle of burning wood and the distant, waiting silence of the world beyond their circle. Everyone else was asleep. Or, at least, they were trying. Melissa had passed out first, muttering something about how exhaustion was beginning to win out over anxiety. Julia lay on her side, back to the fire, but Annemarie could tell by the tension in her shoulders that she wasn¡¯t fully at rest. Brenna, as usual, had closed her eyes and decided to sleep, because worrying was apparently something for other people. Which left her. And Brandon. He was sitting cross-legged by the fire, sharpening his sword in slow, methodical strokes, his expression unreadable. Annemarie didn¡¯t know why she was awake. Maybe it was the pull of the bond, still insistent, threading through her ribs like an anchor. Maybe it was the unease of knowing their wards were failing. Or maybe it was the realization¡ª the quiet, horrible certainty¡ª that she might not make it out of this alive. She exhaled slowly, rubbing her arms against the cold. Brandon¡¯s gaze flickered toward her. ¡°You should sleep.¡± Annemarie huffed a quiet, humorless laugh. ¡°And you should follow your own advice.¡± Brandon smirked but didn¡¯t argue. For awhile, neither of them spoke. The silence between them wasn¡¯t uncomfortable, but it was heavy¡ª filled with the unspoken weight of everything pressing down on them, of everything they weren¡¯t saying. Eventually, Annemarie sighed. ¡°Brenna¡¯s right. Our protection is failing.¡± Brandon didn¡¯t stop sharpening his blade. ¡°I know.¡± Annemarie ran a thumb over the surface of her own ward, feeling the fractures running through it, the delicate splintering of something that had once been whole. They weren¡¯t protected anymore. Not fully. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! ¡°How long do you think we have?¡± she asked quietly. Brandon hesitated before answering. ¡°A few more days, maybe. A week if we¡¯re lucky.¡± He set his sword down and rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°Merris said the Mirrorwood rejects things that don¡¯t belong.¡± Annemarie swallowed. ¡°And we don¡¯t belong.¡± Brandon¡¯s jaw tightened, his expression darkening. ¡°No.¡± Another long pause. Annemarie stared into the fire, watching the embers pulse like a dying heartbeat. ¡°What happens if we don¡¯t make it out?¡± she asked, her voice barely a whisper. Brandon inhaled sharply through his nose. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± ¡°Brandon¡ª¡± ¡°I mean it, Annemarie.¡± She turned to look at him, really look at him. His usual easy confidence had frayed at the edges, the steady composure worn thin under the weight of everything pressing down on them. He met her gaze, his brown eyes darker in the firelight. ¡°I don¡¯t do that,¡± he muttered. ¡°Do what?¡± ¡°The whole... preemptively giving up thing.¡± Annemarie huffed a soft laugh, shaking her head. ¡°It¡¯s not about giving up. It¡¯s about¡ª¡± she hesitated, struggling to find the words. Accepting that death might be an option? Coming to terms with the fact that she might not have a choice? Brandon watched her, his gaze steady. Then, after a long moment, he sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know what happens.¡± Annemarie swallowed. Neither did she. She rubbed a hand down her face. ¡°This was supposed to be simple.¡± Brandon snorted. ¡°That¡¯s your own damn fault for thinking anything in this world is simple.¡± Annemarie laughed¡ª a real laugh this time, tired but genuine. Brandon smirked, but his expression softened. For a moment, they sat there, side by side, staring into the fire. Then Brandon spoke again, quieter this time. ¡°I won¡¯t let you die out here.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t promise that.¡± ¡°I can try.¡± Something in the way he said it made her breath catch. She had always known Brandon was stubborn. Always known he was the type to throw himself between the people cared about and whatever hell was coming for them. This wasn¡¯t just a declaration. This was a vow. Annemarie exhaled slowly, looking away. ¡°You¡¯re an idiot,¡± she muttered. Brandon grinned. ¡°And you¡¯re stuck with me.¡± Annemarie didn¡¯t respond. Because she was. And despite everything, she didn¡¯t hate that. The fire crackled softly, the night stretching wide and uncertain around them. And even with death waiting somewhere ahead, for now, just for this moment¡ª They were still here. Morning came reluctantly. A thin, watery light seeped through the low-hanging clouds, casting everything in a muted, ashen gray. The air was still, thick with the damp chill of the earth, and the embers of last night¡¯s fire barely smoldered. Annemarie sat up slowly, stretching the stiffness from her limbs. Her head ached faintly¡ª not a deep pain, but a pressure, like something heavy pressing down on her skull. The bond was still pulling her northwest, steady and insistent, but something felt... off. It took her a moment to realize what. Then she felt it. The charm around her neck¡ª the warding charm Merris had made for her, a drop of her own blood suspended in resin¡ª was broken. She lifted it carefully, fingers brushing over the once-smooth surface. The resin had fractured completely, a thin network of cracks running through it like shattered glass. At the center, where the dried blood had once been preserved, it was now... gone. Or rather, it had been absorbed. Her stomach twisted. ¡°Shit,¡± she muttered. Brandon, who had been stirring the fire back to life, glanced up at her tone. ¡°What?¡± Annemarie held up the charm wordlessly. His expression darkened. ¡°Oh fuck. That¡¯s not good.¡± Julia, still groggy, blinked blearily at them. ¡°What¡¯s not good?¡± Brandon gestured toward Annemarie¡¯s charm. ¡°Her ward broke.¡± That woke everyone up. Melissa sat up so fast she nearly rolled out of her bedroll. ¡°Hold on, what?¡± Brenna was already moving, crouching beside Annemarie to inspect the remains of the charm. She turned it over in her fingers, frowning deeply. ¡°It wasn¡¯t just damage,¡± she muttered. ¡°It¡¯s completely drained.¡± Brandon straightened, his shoulders tensing. ¡°What does that mean for Annemarie?¡± Everyone turned to her. Annemarie took a slow breath. She felt... different. The pressure in her skull was heavier, the pull of the bond sharper, more intrusive, but she wasn¡¯t sick. She wasn¡¯t collapsing. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she said carefully. Melissa did not look convinced. ¡°You don¡¯t look fine.¡± Annemarie exhaled. ¡°I mean, I don¡¯t feel good, but I¡¯m not¡ª¡± she hesitated, searching for the right words. ¡°I¡¯m not dying. I can still think. I don¡¯t feel like I¡¯m being unmade.¡± The others exchanged uneasy glances. Julia pressed her lips together, studying Annemarie with sharp, assessing eyes. ¡°That doesn¡¯t make sense,¡± she said. ¡°If your ward is gone, you should be feeling it worse than the rest of us.¡± ¡°She should be the first to go,¡± Melissa said grimly. ¡°Thanks for that,¡± Annemarie muttered. Brenna was quiet for a long moment, still turning the broken charm over in her hands. Then, finally, she said, ¡°Maybe she belongs.¡± A beat of silence. Brandon frowned. ¡°What?¡± Brenna exhaled through her nose, tapping a finger against the cracked resin. ¡°Think about it. She and Callista are tied together. And Callista survived the Curse.¡± Annemarie¡¯s stomach twisted. ¡°You think I have?¡± Brenna looked at her, gaze steady. ¡°I think you¡¯re resisting it.¡± The words settled between them. Melissa made a vague, frustrated noise. ¡°Okay, hold on¡ª so we¡¯re saying Annemarie is immune to the actual corrupting force of reality itself?¡± ¡°No,¡± Brenna said, shaking her head. ¡°Not immune. Resisting. That¡¯s different.¡± Julia¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Resisting how?¡± Brenna hesitated. Then she sighed. ¡°You ever wonder why Seers can heal?¡± she asked. Everyone frowned. ¡°It¡¯s not just magic. There¡¯s a reason Seers can put things back together. A reason they can¡¯t create something new, but can fix what¡¯s already broken.¡± She gestured toward Annemarie. ¡°Seers¡¯ magic is tied to fate, but it¡¯s deeper¡ª they¡¯re tied to what¡¯s right with the world.¡± Annemarie blinked. ¡°What does that mean?¡± Brenna leaned forward, her expression unusually serious. ¡°It means that whatever happened to the Mirrorwood wasn¡¯t right. Something twisted the natural order, broke it.¡± A chill ran down Annemarie¡¯s spine. ¡°And your magic,¡± Brenna continued, ¡°is resisting that brokenness. It¡¯s trying to put things back together.¡± Annemarie exhaled slowly. It felt right¡ª like something she had already known but not had the words for. Brandon crossed his arms. ¡°So you¡¯re saying Annemarie and Callista¡¯s magic is the only reason they haven¡¯t been consumed by the Mirrorwood? Brenna shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s a theory. But we don¡¯t have a better one.¡± Melissa groaned, rubbing a hand down her face. ¡°I hate theories.¡± ¡°Yeah, well,¡± Julia muttered, ¡°Get used to it.¡± Annemarie ran a hand over her face, trying to process it all. It didn¡¯t change anything. The bond was still pulling her¡ª northwest, now. The Curse was still there, pressing against the edges of reality. But if Brenna was right... if her magic was pushing back... then maybe she had a chance. She wasn¡¯t sure if that made her feel better or worse. Brandon nudged her knee with his own, drawing her back into the present. ¡°You good?¡± Annemarie let out a breath, shaking her head. ¡°I don¡¯t think ¡®good¡¯ is the word for it.¡± Brandon¡¯s mouth quirked. ¡°Fair enough.¡± Julia sighed, running a hand through her tangled hair. ¡°Alright. We¡¯ve wasted enough time. We need to move.¡± Melissa grumbled but started packing her things. Brandon reached for his sword, checking its edge. Brenna adjusted the strap of her satchel. Annemarie curled her fingers around the shattered remains of her ward. Northwest. Chapter 23 The air shifted. At first, it was barely noticeable¡ª a subtle loosening, a breath of something different. But then, the pressure that had gripped their ribs for miles uncurled. The thick, suffocating weight that had clung to their lungs eased, no longer pressing, no longer drowning them in something unseen. The wind stirred. Not strong. Not clean. But present. A faint ripple through the trees, a whisper against brittle leaves, the barest echo of life in a place that had been dead for far too long. It still carried traces of ash and damp earth, the scent of something old and unsettled, something disturbed. A presence lingered just beyond reach. But it was better. Brandon exhaled, a slow release of breath as his shoulders sagged, like he¡¯d been holding himself too tightly for too long. Julia pressed her fingers to her temples, rubbing away the last traces of a lingering fog. Annemarie stood still. The bond still pulled, but the tension had changed. They had reached the far edge of the Mirrorwood. A hush settled around them, broken only by the distant rustling of wind through half-wilted branches. The air here was different¡ª lighter, clearer, yet still tinged with the metallic tang of lingering magic. The land itself seemed to waver between two states, uncertain whether to reclaim what had been lost or succumb to the slow rot that had crept through the Mirrorwood behind them. Melissa stretched, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the weight of the forest. Even with open ground ahead, tension clung to her muscles like something that would not let go. ¡°It looks... better,¡± she said, though caution edged her voice. ¡°Better,¡± Julia murmured, but there was no relief in it. Her eyes moved over the clearing, tracing the subtle signs¡ª an old campfire, long burned out; the shallow imprint where someone had rested. Someone had been here. And, given where they were and who they¡¯d been following, it was easy to guess who. Brenna followed her gaze, stepping toward the fire pit. She crouched, running her fingers through the ashes. ¡°Warm,¡± she murmured. ¡°She was here this morning.¡± A ripple of unease passed between them. Callista was ahead, close enough that her presence still lingered in the shape of disturbed earth and the careful edge of a blade against stone. But where was she now? Melissa¡¯s gaze swept the thinning trees. ¡°You think she¡¯s watching us?¡± she asked, voice barely above a whisper. Julia didn¡¯t answer right away. The wind had picked up again, rustling through the sparse foliage like a whisper. The path was open, but it promised nothing. They had escaped the heart of the Mirrorwood, but they weren¡¯t free of it. Not truly. And somewhere beyond the thinning trees, Callista was moving, too. Brenna rolled her shoulder, wincing at the faint shimmer of fractured magic along her arm. The protective wards had held, but barely. ¡°We need these reinforced as soon as possible,¡± she muttered. ¡°We were damn lucky they lasted this long.¡± Julia barely heard her. Her gaze was locked on the land ahead, where the curse ended as if sliced clean. ¡°It¡¯s not just luck,¡± she murmured. ¡°Look at the way it stops. It¡¯s not fading¡ª it¡¯s being held back.¡± Brandon¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°By what?¡± Julia exhaled. ¡°By who.¡± No one spoke, but the answer hung between them¡ª unspoken and undeniable. Melissa let out a slow breath, rubbing her temples. ¡°So, let¡¯s get this straight¡ª Callista has been alone out here, holding back the entire Mirrorwood Curse?¡± Brenna shook her head. ¡°Not alone,¡± she murmured. ¡°Al¨¢nders can share power. I¡¯d put money on this being why Annemarie struggled so much adjusting to it.¡± A heavy silence settled over them. Then, ahead of them, something moved. A figure, standing at the treeline. Distant. Waiting. Annemarie¡¯s pulse jumped, something yanking hard at her chest. She staggered a half-step backward, barely aware of the others. ¡°Someone¡¯s here,¡± she whispered. She moved without thinking, her feet dragging her backward toward the dark. She barely noticed when she turned and started walking¡ª one moment she was staring at the open land, feeling the weight of quiet relief settle in her bones. Then the pressure behind her ribs surged, sharp and overwhelming. Not toward Callista¡ª away. Toward the Mirrorwood. ¡°Anne!¡± A hand closed around her wrist, yanking her back with enough force to jolt her body. Melissa. Annemarie barely registered the sting of nails pressing into her skin, the sharp panic in Melissa¡¯s voice. ¡°What the fuck are you doing?¡± Brandon was already at her side, gripping her other arm, his hold firm but steady. ¡°Anne, talk to us. What¡¯s wrong?¡± Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. She blinked hard, the haze cracking apart like shattered glass. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths. ¡°I¡ª I didn¡¯t mean to¡ª¡± Her own voice sounded wrong, distant, like it belonged to someone else. Then, from the shadows of the trees, something spoke. ¡°It still calls to you, doesn¡¯t it?¡± The voice sliced through the thinning silence, smooth and sweet, an edge of amusement curling at the words. It was undeniable¡ª like a song hummed too close to the ear, fingers tracing along the edge of something fragile and waiting to break. Melissa¡¯s head snapped up, dagger already drawn. The metal caught the dim light, gleaming sharp in her grip. Julia¡¯s hand went to her own runed knife, muscles coiled. Her body was rigid with the kind of tension that came from knowing something was wrong before the mind could place why. From the darkness, the figure stepped forward. Small. Slow. Not a creature, nor one of the twisted, watching things they had left behind. For a moment, Annemarie braced for another warped thing from Moorpond¡ª another hollowed-out creature draped in the remnants of its old life. But then she saw them: Small hands, clasped neatly in front of her. Wide, unblinking eyes¡ª the same ones that had watched her from the ruins. A child. Or, at least, something that still wore the shape of one. She emerged like a wisp of mist given form, slipping through the space between trees as though the forest itself had exhaled her into being. Her bare feet touched the earth without sound, her thin dress hanging loose over a frail frame. And her eyes¡ª too dark. Too deep. Like the forest itself had been poured into them, endless and waiting. She tilted her head, watching them. Smiling just a little. A child. Frozen. Wrong. ¡°Christ,¡± Brandon whispered, stepping back. The little girl tilted her head. Too slow. Too precise. A movement meant to be human, but somehow not. ¡°Hello,¡± she said. Her voice was clear and sweet, but hollow. Empty as though the words had been placed there rather than spoken from something real. ¡°I finally found you.¡± Annemarie¡¯s stomach twisted. Melissa glanced at her, alarm sharpening her expression. ¡°That¡¯s¡ª¡± ¡°The girl from Byfox,¡± Annemarie finished. ¡°I saw you.¡± The child¡¯s lips curled into something that might have been a smile, if a smile was just the memory of an expression. ¡°You saw me,¡± she echoed, pleased. ¡°That means you¡¯re friendly.¡± She stepped forward again, bare feet soundless against the ashen ground. ¡°My name is Aida Nazenne,¡± she said, tilting her head again, angle just a little too sharp. ¡°I¡¯m nine years old.¡± Silence. The name hit like a hammer to the chest. Julia¡¯s fingers tightened around the hilt of her knife. ¡°Nazenne?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Aida said, blinking slowly. ¡°Do you know where my big sister is?¡± Annemarie¡¯s breath caught. ¡°Callista?¡± Aida nodded, her hands twisting together. ¡°She left me.¡± Her voice didn¡¯t waver. It didn¡¯t change. But there was something beneath it, something raw and cold and waiting. ¡°She told me to wait for her,¡± Aida continued, calm, distant. Like she was recounting a lesson learned long ago. ¡°Just for a moment. She promised she¡¯d come back.¡± A pause. Long, agonizing. ¡°But she didn¡¯t.¡± Melissa exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down her face. ¡°Oh, I hate this.¡± Brenna crossed her arms. ¡°How long have you been waiting, kid?¡± Aida smiled again¡ª that same empty, hollow stretch of lips that never quite reached her eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Julia¡¯s grip on her knife tightened, her voice careful. ¡°What happened?¡± She hesitated. ¡°After Callista left?¡± Aida¡¯s fingers twitched, delicate, pressing tightly together. ¡°The darkness closed in,¡± she said simply. ¡°It took everyone.¡± A pause. ¡°But then you came, and I followed you. You seemed nice.¡± She blinked, slow, like a doll resetting. ¡°I only caught up now.¡± Annemarie felt sick. Byfox had fallen two years ago. Which meant Aida had been alone¡ª wandering, waiting¡ª for longer than she could even comprehend. Melissa let out a slow, unsteady breath. ¡°So, uh. What now?¡± Aida¡¯s expression never wavered. ¡°Now,¡± she said, voice light, easy, and terribly wrong, ¡°we find my big sister.¡± The wind stirred again, threading through the thinning trees like a whisper that no one wanted to hear. The woods felt too still, too aware¡ª like someone was listening. Annemarie swallowed hard, heart hammering against her ribs. She left me. The words echoed in her skull, sinking deep, wrapping around the pull in her chest like cold fingers. Melissa let out a sharp, humorless laugh, breaking the silence. ¡°Great,¡± she muttered. ¡°Awesome. A ghost child on a revenge quest. Lilya was bad enough, but¡ª¡± Aida blinked at her, head tilting once more. ¡°I¡¯m not a ghost,¡± she said pleasantly. ¡°I¡¯m just waiting.¡± A pause. Julia shifted slightly, her hand still tight on her knife. ¡°Waiting for what?¡± Aida¡¯s dark eyes flicked toward her. ¡°For Callista,¡± she said simply. ¡°She¡¯s coming back.¡± Something in the way she said it¡ª light, easy, certain¡ª made Annemarie¡¯s stomach twist even further. ¡°She¡¯s not coming back, kid,¡± Melisssa said bluntly, then winced. ¡°I mean, she¡ª¡± She hesitated, struggling for a way to rephrase. ¡°Look, it¡¯s been two years. She¡ª she probably couldn¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°She will,¡± Aida interrupted. She didn¡¯t sound angry. Just... patient.¡± ¡°She promised.¡± Another silence. Brenna sighed, shifting her weight. ¡°Alright,¡± she said carefully. ¡°Say we help you find her. Do you know where she is?¡± Aida¡¯s fingers twitched at her sides. ¡°No,¡± she admitted. ¡°But you do.¡± Annemarie stiffened. ¡°What?¡± Aida turned her gaze to her, and for the first time since stepping out of the trees, something changed behind those too-dark eyes. ¡°The bond. You have Callista written all over you.¡± Another cold breeze wound through the clearing. The air still felt strange here, stretched thin between two realities¡ª between what had been lost and what still remained. Melissa ran a hand through her hair. ¡°Okay, yeah, sure, why not,¡± she muttered. ¡°Worst case scenario, we¡¯re leading a cursed child straight to her long-lost sister and dooming ourselves in the process. That sounds totally reasonable.¡± Aida only smiled. And, without waiting, she turned and walked forward¡ª past them, past the burned-out fire, toward the road ahead. The others hesitated. But Annemarie¡¯s feet had already begun to move. Chapter 24 Aida skipped ahead, her bare feet soundless against the packed earth. It should have been unsettling¡ª was unsettling, if Annemarie let herself think about it too long¡ª but there was something so effortlessly childlike about the way she moved that made it difficult to remember what she was. What she had to be. If she had been anyone else¡ª just a lost little girl instead of something left behind in the ruins of Byfox¡ª she would have looked almost normal. Just another child walking the road, humming softly under her breath. But she wasn¡¯t normal. And Annemarie could tell, even without the way the air seemed to shift around her, that something was keeping its distance. Gorgoloth, for one. The massive spider, usually unbothered by things that should have unnerved him, skittered closer to Melissa¡¯s side whenever Aida came too near. His eight legs moved in careful, deliberate steps, his body angled slightly between them and the skipping girl ahead. Melissa reached out absently, running a hand along his thick carapace. ¡°Not a fan, huh?¡± she murmured. Gorgoloth let out a low, clicking sound. He wasn¡¯t a fan. Which, honestly, didn¡¯t help Melissa¡¯s feelings about the situation. Brandon was quiet, his gaze flickering between Aida, Annemarie, and the thinning trees around them. ¡°This is it, isn¡¯t it?¡± he asked finally. ¡°The last stretch.¡± No one needed to ask what he meant. The land ahead of them was different. Not just beyond the reach of the Mirrorwood, but beyond the weight of anything that still lingered in its shadow. The trees weren¡¯t just untainted¡ª they were real, solid, untouched by the warping presence they had walked through for days. The sky above was clearer, the air crisp in a way that made it feel like they were finally stepping back into a world they recognized. Melissa exhaled, rubbing a hand over her face. ¡°God, I hope she¡¯s here.¡± ¡°She is.¡± The certainty in Annemarie¡¯s voice made everyone look at her. She didn¡¯t need to explain how she knew. The bond had been pulling at her for so long that she had stopped questioning it. Callista was close¡ª so close that it made Annemarie¡¯s whole body feel unsteady, like she was teetering on the edge of something inevitable. She looked up, past Aida, past the path stretching out before them. Just a little further. The road stretched on, a thread of worn dirt carved between the fading remnants of the Mirrorwood and the open land beyond. The trees, once tangled and oppressive, thinned with each step, their warped silhouettes retreating into memory. Above them, the sky stretched vast and pale, the light of the dying sun spilling over the horizon in muted golds and deepening blues. The air felt wider, lighter¡ª almost free. Each step forward was heavier than the last, weighted by something unseen, something inevitable. Annemarie could feel it. The bond hummed beneath her skin, coiling tight in her chest, pulling her forward with a force she could not resist. Every breath, every heartbeat, was laced with that unrelenting tether, drawing her toward the end of a journey she hadn¡¯t even known she was on. Callista was close. Too close. Aida no longer skipped. Her steps, once light and careless, had slowed to something measured and deliberate. She moved like a girl walking toward something she already knew was waiting for her, as if the future had already been written and she was merely stepping into the space it had left for her. Her gaze never wavered from the path ahead. And then¡ª A figure stepped from the shadows. She did not emerge suddenly. She did not startle them, did not break the silence with sound. She simply was, as though she had always been there, waiting in the periphery, waiting in the spaces where the light did not touch. Tall. Noble. Unbroken. Callista moved with quiet strength, her boots crunching against the earth, a blade resting loose in one hand. She carried herself like a woman who had fought and survived¡ª but not without cost. She was alive. But she was not untouched. Dark veins, sharp and jagged, threaded beneath her skin. They curled like black lightning from her fingertips, trailing along the curve of her throat, seeping toward her jaw. Not sickness. Not corruption. Something else. Something she held back by sheer force of will. Her hair had been pulled into a crown of braids, woven with strands of silver-threaded charms that shimmered faintly, resisting the pull of whatever clung to her dark skin. She looked like a queen without a throne, a warrior without an army. And when her gaze swept over them, searching, tense¡ª she saw her. And froze. ¡°No.¡± The word came raw, barely formed, barely spoken. Then she was moving. Her sword fell from her grip, forgotten. Her strides were quick, unrelenting, unstoppable. Aida beamed. ¡°Sister!¡± Callista dropped to her knees, her arms outstretched before Aida had even reached her. The girl ran into them without hesitation, her small fingers twisting into the fabric of Callista¡¯s coat, clinging to her like she had been waiting for this moment longer than time itself. Callista¡¯s eyes squeezed shut. Her breath hitched¡ª an uneven, shaking thing, thick with everything she had not let herself feel for two years. ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± she whispered, voice breaking. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m so sorry.¡± Her hands moved over Aida¡¯s back, mapping out the fragile shape of her, desperate, aching. As if she could hold her there forever. As if she could make up for the years she had lost in this single moment. And then, she whispered something. The words slipped from her lips, soft and ancient, weighted with finality. A spell hummed through the air, deep and resonant, like a storm rolling in from the horizon. Aida stilled. Then¡ª her body began to disintegrate. Not violently. Not like something being torn away. Softly. Ash lifted in slow, curling wisps, dissolving into the still air. It flaked from her fingers, from her arms, from the soot-streaked curve of her cheek. She did not scream. She only blinked¡ª once, twice¡ª before her form crumbled entirely, the last fragments of her rising upward, lost to the sky. And then, she was gone. Callista remained kneeling, her arms still outstretched, empty now. Her breath shuddered, soundless, her entire body trembling beneath the weight of everything she had refused to feel. The Mirrorwood did not react. The wind had settled, the land around them suspended in unnatural stillness. The air felt too thin, too fragile¡ª like the world itself had yet to catch up with what had just happened. ¡°What the fuck did you just do?¡± Julia¡¯s voice slashed through the silence, raw with horror, her words jagged and barely contained. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Callista¡¯s head snapped up. Golden-brown eyes burned with something dangerous, but Julia did not back down. ¡°She was your sister!¡± Julia spat, her hands shaking, her breath uneven. ¡°You just¡ª just killed her¡ª¡± ¡°No.¡± Callista¡¯s voice cut through the space between them, cold and sharp as steel. ¡°That was not Aida.¡± The weight of her words settled heavily in the air, suffocating, unrelenting. There was no hesitation. No doubt. Only certainty, solid as iron. Her grief was there¡ª buried deep, locked behind something too strong to shatter. She exhaled once, slow and controlled, then rose to her full height, shoulders squared, spine straight. She was imposing. Not just in stature, but in presence. A force that had spent two years standing against the inevitable and refusing to break. ¡°Aida died two years ago,¡± Callista said, her voice steady and deliberate. ¡°Whatever followed you out of Byfox was just an echo. And now she can rest.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know that!¡± Julia snapped, stepping forward, fury sparking like flint against stone. ¡°I do.¡± Callista didn¡¯t waver. Her gaze was measured, unwavering, unyielding. ¡°I have been fighting this war for two years,¡± she said, her tone devoid of patience. ¡°And you don¡¯t have a clue what you¡¯ve walked into.¡± Silence fell again, thick and suffocating. Callista¡¯s gaze swept over them, sharp and assessing, calculating. Then, she locked eyes with Annemarie. The weight of it stole her breath. The bond thrummed violently beneath Annemarie¡¯s skin, responding to Callista¡¯s presence in a way that made her stomach twist. It wasn¡¯t just recognition. It wasn¡¯t just magic. It was something else, something deeper¡ª something inevitable. Callista¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°Now,¡± she said, her voice dropping into something colder, deadlier. ¡°Tell me why the fuck you¡¯re here.¡± The weight of Callista¡¯s words pressed against them, thick as smoke, settling over the group like an unshakable force. Aida¡¯s ashes had barely faded into the air, yet Callista stood unshaken, staring them down with the intensity of someone who had been fighting alone for far too long. Her voice was sharp, measured¡ª each word deliberate, honed to a razor¡¯s edge. But beneath the exhaustion, beneath the unyielding steel of her stance, there was something else¡ª something harder to name. Desperation. Melissa crossed her arms, unimpressed. ¡°Wow. Not even a ¡®thanks for coming¡¯, huh?¡± Callista didn¡¯t look at her. Didn¡¯t react at all. Her gaze remained locked on Annemarie. ¡°You felt it, didn¡¯t you?¡± she asked, stepping closer, movements precise and controlled. ¡°The pull? The bond?¡± She didn¡¯t need to ask what Callista meant. She had felt it for weeks¡ª pulling her across a world that wasn¡¯t hers, carving something unfamiliar into her bones, something she couldn¡¯t fight no matter how much she had tried. She swallowed hard. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Then you should have stayed away.¡± The words hit like a physical blow. Annemarie flinched, but Callista wasn¡¯t finished. ¡°This is not your fight,¡± she continued, her voice cutting, sharp as the edge of a blade. ¡°This is not your war, Traveller. You have no idea what you¡¯ve walked into.¡± ¡°Then tell us,¡± Julia snapped, stepping forward. ¡°Because we¡¯ve been running across half of Iona trying to find you, and I¡¯d love to know what exactly we almost died for.¡± Callista¡¯s jaw tightened, frustration flickering across her face, her fingers flexing at her sides. But before she could speak, Annemarie took a shaky step forward. ¡°We¡¯re here because we had no choice,¡± she said, her voice unsteady but firm. ¡°The bond¡ª¡± ¡°The bond is a curse,¡± Callista interrupted. Not cruel. Not mocking. Just stating a fact. A truth she had accepted long before Annemarie had even known the word al¨¢nder. ¡°You think this is fate?¡± Callista asked. ¡°That we were meant to find each other?¡± Annemarie hesitated. Yes. Yes, she had. Through all the uncertainty, through the impossible weight of what she had been forced into, through the fear and exhaustion¡ª she had believed it meant something. Callista stepped closer, lowering her voice, and for the first time, there was no anger in her words. Just something raw. ¡°It¡¯s not fate. It¡¯s a mistake. An accident of magic that should have been severed at birth.¡± Annemarie opened her mouth. Tried to argue. Tried to tell Callista she was wrong. But she couldn¡¯t. Deep down, she had thought the same thing. Brenna, arms still folded, exhaled a slow breath. Steadied herself. ¡°Look, I get that you¡¯re tired and pissed off, and probably one bad night away from fully snapping, but¡ª¡± She never got to finish. Callista¡¯s gaze snapped to her, and for the first time she looked truly furious. Not frustrated. Not annoyed. Furious. ¡°Do you think this is just about me?¡± Her voice was sharp enough to cut. She took a step forward, her entire presence shifting, burning, the air around her thick with something barely restrained. ¡°Do you have any idea what I have been doing here?¡± She wasn¡¯t looking at Brenna anymore. She was looking at all of them¡ª at Annemarie, at Julia, at Melissa, at Brandon. She lifted a hand and gestured behind her, toward the Mirrorwood¡¯s jagged, unnatural edge. The cursed land loomed like a living thing, writing just beyond the threshold where reality still held firm. The divide was stark¡ªa clean, unbroken line where the corruption ended. ¡°I have been keeping this at bay,¡± Callista said, voice low and seething. Her fingers curled into a fist. ¡°Every day, every night¡ª it wants to spread, and I stop it. Again and again.¡± Her breath hitched, but it wasn¡¯t weakness. ¡°I have given everything I have to hold this ground. And if I fail¡ª¡± She stopped, but she didn¡¯t need to finish. They all knew: If Callista failed, if she faltered, then the Mirrorwood would spread. Not the queen, not the nobles, not all the armies of the world could stop it. Callista had been standing here, alone, on the very edge of existence, holding back the tide with nothing but her own strength. And they had walked straight into it. The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. No one moved. No one spoke. Then, finally, Callista exhaled a long, slow breath, and when she spoke again her voice was quieter. Not softer. Not kinder. Just final. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have come.¡± Annemarie stared at Callista, stunned into silence. Not because she was intimidated. Not because Callista had somehow earned the right to shut her down. But because after everything¡ª the sleepless nights, the constant pull westward, the visions that left her breathless and shaking¡ª this was Callista¡¯s response? ¡°We shouldn¡¯t have come?¡± Annemarie repeated, voice dangerously low. ¡°Are you fucking kidding me?¡± The others tensed at her tone. Even Melissa, who usually thrived on conflict, shot her a wary glance. Annemarie barely registered them anymore. Her hands curled into fists, nails biting into her palms. Her head pounded with exhaustion and the bond burned in her chest like a second, unwanted heartbeat. The pressure of it, the weight of weeks¡ª months¡ª of being dragged toward this moment, coiled so tightly inside her that she thought she might snap. ¡°I have been dragged across half a goddamn continent,¡± she said, each word clipped and shaking with barely restrained fury. ¡°Sleepwalking, blacking out, losing control of my own body¡ª¡± She took a step, then another. Jabbed a finger at Callista¡¯s chest, the contact sharp and accusatory. ¡°And now you¡¯re telling me you don¡¯t even care?¡± Her voice cracked, but she ignored it. ¡°That this whole thing was just a mistake?¡± Callista¡¯s jaw tightened. Her expression remained unreadable, her golden-brown eyes locked onto Annemarie¡¯s with something that looked almost like restraint. ¡°I didn¡¯t say I didn¡¯t care,¡± she said, her voice even and controlled. ¡°Sure sounds like it,¡± Annemarie snapped. Callista exhaled sharply, frustration rippling through her tense frame. But she didn¡¯t step back. Instead, she met Annemarie¡¯s fury head-on. ¡°You think I haven¡¯t suffered, too?¡± Callista asked, her words a sharp-edged blade slicing through the air between them. ¡°You think you¡¯re the only one who¡¯s had to deal with this?¡± Annemarie hesitated, but only for a second. ¡°Oh, so it has been bothering you?¡± Callista¡¯s expression cracked. Not much. Not enough for most people to notice. But Annemarie saw the flicker of something behind her eyes¡ª the slip of control, the barely-contained rage. Callista took a step forward, closing the distance between them. ¡°Bothering me?¡± she hissed. ¡°Annemarie, I have been ripped out of my own mind, dragged into the Mirrorwood time and time again because of this bond. I have been pulled into the dark, forced to fight for my life while my body is left defenseless¡ª¡± Her breathing was uneven now, but her voice didn¡¯t falter. ¡°And every time I get closer to understanding this curse, every time I think I¡¯m making progress¡ª¡± Callista¡¯s fists tightened, her magic stirring faintly in the air, ¡°¡ªI get dragged back. And the Mirrorwood surges. And my efforts to stop this thing suffer.¡± The wind had died completely. The world around them felt held in place, trapped between breaths, waiting. Annemarie stiffened. ¡°The Curse has been getting worse?¡± Callista¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Every time the bond pulls me toward you, the Mirrorwood takes advantage of my distraction.¡± Silence. A heavy, horrible silence. Melissa shifted uneasily, rubbing her arms. ¡°Okay, so that¡¯s bad.¡± Julia¡¯s stomach twisted. ¡°You¡¯re saying the Curse has been spreading because of Annemarie?¡± ¡°Because of the bond,¡± Callista corrected. Her voice was level, but there was no mistaking the weight behind her words. ¡°And yes. It has.¡± The air felt colder. Annemarie felt something awful settle in her gut, heavier than exhaustion, heavier than the bond itself. It felt something like guilt. She had thought¡ª hoped¡ª that this bond had been affecting them both equally. That Callista, like her, had been suffering the same disorientation, the same sleepless, restless nights. But it was so much worse than that. It was affecting the entire world. Chapter 25 Annemarie exhaled sharply, forcing herself to steady her breathing. She was still angry. Still tired. But rage wouldn¡¯t fix this. She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to push past the heat simmering under her skin. Arguing wouldn¡¯t change the past. Yelling wouldn¡¯t reverse the damage that had already been done. If what Callista was saying was true¡ª if the bond had been hindering her progress, allowing it to spread¡ª then Annemarie had no right to stand here and demand answers without offering something in return. She squared her shoulders, meeting Callista¡¯s gaze head-on. ¡°Fine,¡± she said. ¡°Then what do we do?¡± Callista blinked. For the first time, something in her hardened expression wavered¡ª just a fraction, just enough to reveal the briefest flicker of surprise. Not at the question. At the fact that Annemarie had asked at all. ¡°You actually want to help,¡± Callista asked, her voice more measured now, less biting. Annemarie frowned. ¡°Of course I want to help. What, did you think I was going to throw a fit and storm off?¡± Callista raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, but she didn¡¯t deny it. Melissa huffed. ¡°Honestly, we weren¡¯t ruling it out.¡± ¡°Not helping, Mel,¡± Julia muttered, shooting her a glare. Melissa held up her hands in mock surrender, but the tension in the air didn¡¯t lift. ¡°We¡¯re bonded, Callista. Stuck together, whether we want it or not. I¡¯m on your side.¡± Callista sighed, rolling one stiff shoulder as if she were trying to ease out a deep, lingering ache. Her expression was unreadable again, guarded¡ª but there was hesitation there, just beneath the surface. As if she was still debating how much to tell them. Then, after a long pause, she spoke. ¡°Now that we¡¯re together, the bond won¡¯t pull us toward each other anymore,¡± she said. ¡°That means I won¡¯t be constantly ripped away when I need to focus. But more than that¡ª¡± She hesitated. Her jaw tightened, fingers curling at her sides. As if she had to force the words out. ¡°There¡¯s a chance we can do more than just hold back the curse,¡± she finally admitted, words slow and deliberate. ¡°We might be able to break it.¡± Julia straightened. ¡°You think we can stop the Mirrorwood?¡± Callista didn¡¯t answer right away. Instead, she exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the weight of the question itself. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she admitted at last, honest but grim. ¡°No one knows how to stop it. Everything I¡¯ve tried has only held it at bay, nothing more. But the bond¡ª¡± She glanced at Annemarie, her eyes sharp, calculating. ¡°The bond is powerful,¡± she said. ¡°Two souls pulling from the same well of magic. If we can harness it, instead of letting it control us¡ª¡± She let the thought hang between them, unfinished but heavy with meaning. The implications were clear. Brenna frowned. ¡°That¡¯s a big if.¡± ¡°I know,¡± Callista said, her tone unwavering. ¡°But it¡¯s the only real option we have.¡± Silence settled over the group, thick and suffocating. Slowly, inevitably, all eyes turned toward Annemarie. Her throat felt dry. The idea of harnessing the bond, of using it instead of fearing it, should have terrified her. But after everything¡ª after being dragged across a world she barely understood, after the sleepless nights, the visions, the pull toward Callista like something buried in her bones¡ª this was the first time she had a choice. She could walk away. She could turn her back on all of this, return to Ismay¡¯s Landing, try to pretend she was the same girl who had stepped through the portal weeks ago. Try to convince herself she could go back to the life she¡¯d barely started before. Or¡ª Annemarie inhaled slowly, steadying her breath, steadying herself. Then she met Callista¡¯s gaze, matching its weight, its certainty. ¡°Fine,¡± she said, the word stronger than she expected. ¡°Let¡¯s break the Curse.¡± They set up camp just beyond the Curse¡¯s reach, on a flat stretch of land where the grass still grew and the trees weren¡¯t watching. Where the air no longer pulsed with something wrong, something hungry, something waiting for them to look away. It wasn¡¯t safe. Not truly. Nowhere near the Mirrorwood could ever be called that. But it was as good as they were going to get. The fire burned low and steady, licking at the dry wood with a slow, crackling hunger. Shadows stretched long against the ground, shifting in time with the flickering flames¡ª but they were normal. Recognizable. Not warped like they had been in the wood. The air was cooler here, no longer thick with the unnatural weight of the cursed land, but the tension in the group still lingered like smoke. No one spoke much as they worked. Brandon and Julia unpacked the bedrolls, movements stiff with exhaustion. Melissa crouched near the fire, sharpening a blade that didn¡¯t need sharpening, her fingers tight against the worn handle. Brenna sat cross-legged a few feet away, quietly reinforcing the protective wards around their perimeter, tracing runes into the dirt with precise, practiced hands. The sigils glowed faintly, fading into the earth as she whispered the last of the incantation. Gorgoloth had settled himself close to Melissa, his massive, spindly legs curled beneath him, eyes reflecting the fire¡¯s glow like distant lanterns. Ever so often, one of his many limbs twitched as if something unseen had caught his attention. He made no move to investigate. And Callista¡ª Callista sat apart from them, her back to the fire, staring out toward the treeline where the Mirrorwood¡¯s edge loomed, jagged and wrong. Her shoulders were tense, her body still as stone, but Annemarie could tell she wasn¡¯t resting. She was watching. Waiting. Holding the line even now, even here. Annemarie pulled her cloak tighter around herself, staring into the flames, her mind still circling the same thought over and over. They had agreed to this. To breaking the Curse. But that meant stepping further into something none of them truly understood. And for the first time since they had arrived in Aleria, Annemarie wasn¡¯t sure if she was more afraid of what lay ahead, or of what they might have already set into motion. ¡°So,¡± Melissa said, stretching her legs toward the fire, her voice deliberately casual. ¡°Breaking a thirty-year, world-ending curse. Where do we start?¡± No one laughed. Callista exhaled, rolling a knot of tension from her shoulder. ¡°We find who started it.¡± Simple words. Impossible weight. Julia muttered something under her breath, rubbing at her temples like she was already regretting everything. ¡°Right. Except this curse has been around for decades, and I doubt whoever¡¯s responsible signed a damn note.¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°There are records,¡± Callista said. ¡°Scattered, but they exist. There are people out there who know things. We need to find out what they know and who was behind it.¡± Brandon frowned. The firelight cast sharp lines across his face, his usual skepticism deepening into something closer to unease. ¡°Even if we find them, how do we stop them? This happened a while ago. If they¡¯re still alive, they¡¯re probably¡ª¡± ¡°Powerful,¡± Brenna finished grimly. She was still seated by the wards, her hands resting loosely over her knees. Her fingers twitched, like she was running through calculations in her head. ¡°And there could be more than one person responsible.¡± The fire crackled. A grim silence settled over the group, thick and unmoving. They all knew what this meant. The Mirrorwood hadn¡¯t just appeared. It had been made¡ª not by accident, not by nautre, not by time. Someone¡ª or multiple someones¡ª had deliberately skewed the balance of nature. And they might not be done. Annemarie sat quietly, staring at the fire, fingers curled loosely around the edge of the blanket. The night stretched around them, vast and unmoving, but the weight in her chest refused to settle. The bond still hummed between her and Callista, an unspoken presence neither of them had quite acknowledged again. It wasn¡¯t painful, not anymore. Not in the way it had been when they were miles apart, pulling against something they didn¡¯t understand. But it was there, always there, threading through her like a second pulse. She didn¡¯t regret agreeing to this. But the sheer weight of it¡ª the decades-old magic, the unknown enemy, the curse that could wipe out half of Iona if it spread any further¡ª it felt impossible. The fire crackled, sending a slow shower of embers spiraling into the night air. No one spoke for a long moment. Then Julia shifted, rubbing a hand over her face. ¡°We need leads,¡± she said, glancing toward Callista. ¡°Where do we start looking?¡± Callista didn¡¯t answer right away. Her gaze flickered toward the distant treeline, where the Mirrorwood loomed, waiting. She was thinking¡ª not hesitating, just weighing her words. Choosing the best way to break apart something too vast to be contained in a single sentence. ¡°Swynden is our best bet,¡± she said at last. ¡°There are more records in Atriane. Unbiased ones. And deeper in Milana, there are still people who remember the start of it.¡± Melissa lifted a brow. ¡°Survivors?¡± Callista nodded. ¡°And scholars. Soldiers. Traitors. Some of them saw the beginning of this firsthand.¡± Brenna huffed, crossing her arms. ¡°If they survived this long, I doubt they¡¯d be eager to help.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll make them help,¡± Callista said simply. ¡°Breaking the Curse is one thing. Rooting out the perpetrators will be another.¡± Julia exhaled, shaking her head. ¡°Saints, you really have been doing this alone for far too long.¡± Callista didn¡¯t argue. Didn¡¯t say yes, didn¡¯t say no. She just let the silence answer for her. The fire popped, breaking the moment. Annemarie let out a slow breath, straightening. ¡°Alright,¡± she said, her voice steady, drawing their attention. ¡°We find who started it. We break the Curse. And then we end things for good.¡± The campfire burned low, its glow flickering against the cool night air. The others had drifted into exhausted silence, some half-dozing, some pretending to sleep. But Annemarie wasn¡¯t sleeping. And neither was Callista. The other woman sat a few feet away, fingers absently turning a small charm over in her hand¡ª a delicate silver coin, edges worn smooth, the faint outline of an old crest barely visible. She hadn¡¯t spoken since the discussion ended. And Annemarie, despite everything, was tired of the silence. ¡°So,¡± she said, voice quiet but sharp enough to cut through the stillness. ¡°You really weren¡¯t going to say anything to me, huh?¡± Callista didn¡¯t look up. ¡°What would you have wanted me to say?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Annemarie muttered. ¡°Maybe something other than ¡®you shouldn¡¯t have come¡¯?¡± Callista exhaled sharply through her nose, but there was no real bite to it. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to be here,¡± she admitted. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to be real.¡± Annemarie blinked. ¡°Excuse me?¡± Callista finally looked at her, tilting her head slightly. ¡°You¡¯re from another world,¡± she said plainly. ¡°A world where this doesn¡¯t exist. Where magic doesn¡¯t exist. I thought the bond was... I don¡¯t know. A mistake. A story I told myself when things got worse. But then you actually showed up, and now you¡¯re sitting here like this is just another day in your life.¡± Annemarie huffed a quiet, tired laugh. ¡°Yeah, well. My life¡¯s been pretty weird lately.¡± ¡°Clearly.¡± A long pause. Then Annemarie sighed, shifting her weight. ¡°So what do we do? About us?¡± Callista raised a brow. ¡°Us?¡± ¡°The bond,¡± Annemarie clarified. ¡°You know what I mean.¡± Callista rolled the silver charm between her fingers, considering. ¡°We learn to work with it,¡± she said. ¡°We don¡¯t have a choice, otherwise.¡± ¡°Yeah, but¡ª¡± Annemarie hesitated. ¡°We¡¯re supposed to be connected, right? But I don¡¯t know a damn thing about you.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not true.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Annemarie raised an eyebrow. ¡°What do I know?¡± Callista held her gaze, unflinching. ¡°You know what it¡¯s like to wake up somewhere you don¡¯t remember walking to.¡± Annemarie¡¯s stomach twisted. Yeah. Yeah, she did. The fire crackled softly, breaking the silence that stretched between them. Callista didn¡¯t press further. She just turned the charm over one last time, then tucked it away into the folds of her coat. ¡°You want to know me?¡± she asked, voice quieter now. Annemarie nodded. Callista nodded back, just once, as if deciding something. ¡°Then keep up,¡± she said simply. ¡°I don¡¯t have it in me to repeat things.¡± After a long pause, she finally spoke. ¡°I grew up in Byfox,¡± she began, voice steady but distant. ¡°It was beautiful once. Before the fire. Before the Curse.¡± ¡°We were privileged,¡± Callista continued. ¡°The noble house of Nazenne and the last Ettaria scion, united. My mother, Duchess Vevra, was a powerful woman¡ª not just in name. My father Hiram had married into the title, but he was loved by the people.¡± She traced the fabric of her sleeve absently, fingers curling slightly. ¡°I had three younger brothers¡ª Jochem was fourteen, Turel eleven, and Hiram, who was almost six. And one younger sister¡ª Aida.¡± Annemarie flinched slightly at the name, but Callista didn¡¯t stop. ¡°Aida turned nine after everything happened,¡± she said softly. ¡°I made her a cake.¡± The others had stirred, and were now listening intently. Melissa arched an eyebrow. ¡°You? A cake?¡± ¡°A mud cake,¡± Callista clarified. ¡°With leaves and berries for decoration. We were hiding at the time.¡± No one spoke. They already knew how that story ended. Callista exhaled slowly. ¡°But before that, we were happy. My parents would stay up late, meeting with their advisors more often than not, but they did their best to keep the worst of it from us. We knew the world was dangerous¡ª politically, magically, everything was shifting¡ª but they shielded us from it as much as they could.¡± A bitter, almost laughless chuckle left her lips. ¡°I think I believed, for a long time, that we were untouchable.¡± Her eyes darkened, something distant and cold settling over her features. ¡°I was wrong. The assassins came at night,¡± she continued. ¡°There must have been a traitor in the guard. It was too easy.¡± Brandon stiffened slightly, but he said nothing. ¡°Aida had a cold,¡± Callista murmured. ¡°Or something like it. She was too tired for dinner, so I stayed with her. I was reading her a story while the others ate.¡± Her fingers twitched. ¡°Then I heard the sound of steel.¡± Annemarie¡¯s stomach twisted. ¡°I took Aida out the back way,¡± Callista said, voice calm but too steady, too restrained. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I was thinking¡ª just that we had to run. We made it outside, and that¡¯s when I saw it.¡± Her hands clenched briefly, knuckles pale against the firelight. ¡°The estate was already burning.¡± Silence. The group listened, unmoving, as she continued. ¡°We ran,¡± Callista said simply. ¡°Away from Byfox. Away from the encroaching Curse, or at least, where I thought it was. We lived in the woods for weeks. I didn¡¯t know the Curse was spreading.¡± Her voice went quieter now, and Annemarie already knew what was coming. ¡°One day, I left to hunt,¡± Callista whispered. ¡°I told Aida to stay put. That I¡¯d be back.¡± Her throat bobbed slightly, but she didn¡¯t stop. ¡°When I returned, the Curse had overtaken the campsite.¡± Melissa muttered something too soft to catch, dragging a hand over her face. Callista¡¯s voice didn¡¯t shake, didn¡¯t break. But there was something missing in her tone now, something hollowed out long ago. ¡°She was gone,¡± she finished. ¡°I never found her.¡± The wind shifted slightly, sending a whisper of cool air across the fire. Callista let the silence stretch between them, absorb the weight of it. Then, finally, she said, ¡°I¡¯ve been alone ever since.¡± Annemarie swallowed hard, but Callista wasn¡¯t looking at her anymore. She was staring into the fire, eyes fixed on something only she could see. And when she spoke again, her voice was quiet, but firm. ¡°Weeks ago, I started feeling it. The tugging in my gut. The bond pulling at me.¡± She turned back to Annemarie, her golden-brown eyes sharp and knowing. ¡°I don¡¯t have to tell you what that was like,¡± she said. ¡°You already know.¡± Annemarie did know. And for the first time, it occurred to her: she hadn¡¯t been alone. The two of them had been chasing each other. Chapter 26 Swynden rose before them, sprawling and unfamiliar. The capital of Milana had not been Milana¡¯s in Callista¡¯s lifetime. Iona had held it for as long as she could remember, its banners draped over the city¡¯s bones, its presence woven into the streets like a stain that could not be scrubbed away. She had read of the city¡¯s grandeur in history books, traced her fingers over faded maps, and imagined the towering spires and bustling markets in the quiet hours of the night. She had dreamed of the city her distant family had once ruled¡ª not the one she was now entering. The banners of Tormevi blue and silver were long gone, replaced by Iona¡¯s deep crimson and gold. The once-proud marble facades of the noble quarter were dulled by soot and grime, their balconies empty where they had once overflowed with flowers. The streets felt narrower than she had imagined, not because they had changed but because occupation had a weight, and it pressed in from all sides. And the people¡ª Callista had expected suspicion. Perhaps even fear. What she had not expected was exhaustion. The eyes that flickered toward them held no spark of curiosity, no trace of the pride that had once defined Milana¡¯s heart. The people moved like ghosts, heads bowed, hands tucked close to their bodies as if afraid to draw attention. This was not a city waiting for freedom. This was a city that had learned to survive. The buildings bore scars, not of war but of occupation. Of power shifting to irresponsible hands. A burned-out husk of a temple, doors chained shut. A statue, once grand but now decapitated, broken pieces left to crumble in the gutter. A row of gallows, empty but waiting. Callista clenched her hands at her sides. This was not the city her ancestors ruled. But it would be again. Duchess Callista Nazenne Ettaria of Byfox, straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and strode forward like she belonged. Because she did. Melissa adjusted the straps of her pack, glancing sidelong at Callista. So, uh. We¡¯re just walking in?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Callista said, voice crisp. ¡°No sneaking?¡± Brenna asked, a note of hope in her voice. ¡°No sneaking,¡± Callista confirmed. Brandon let out a low sigh, running a hand through his hair. ¡°Callista...¡± She turned on her heel to face them. ¡°I am the Duchess of Byfox,¡± she said, enunciating each syllable as though daring them to argue. ¡°Great-niece of the queen. I will not hide.¡± Julia, to her credit, did not argue. Instead, she tilted her head, expression assessing. ¡°So we¡¯re making an entrance.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Callista said. Melissa let out a short laugh. ¡°Well. That¡¯s going to be fun.¡± Gorgoloth clicked his mandibles in what sounded suspiciously like agreement. The guards at the city gates barely spared them a glance as they passed into Swynden proper. The streets were alive with the hum of midday traffic¡ª merchants hawking their wares, children darting between carts, couriers on horseback weaving through the flow of people. The scent of fresh bread and roasting meat clashed with the ever-present undercurrent of damp stone and horses. Callista ignored it all. She moved with purpose, the others falling into step behind her as they crossed the stone-paved roads toward the palace. The guards at the palace gates, unlike those at the city entrance, did not ignore them. ¡°Halt,¡± one of them commanded, stepping forward, hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. His eyes flicked over their group, lingering on Callista¡¯s battered but tailored coat and the steel in her gaze. ¡°State your business.¡± Callista did not hesitate. ¡°I am Callista Nazenne, Duchess of Byfox, heir of Tormevi blood, and I have come to reclaim my place.¡± A silence settled over the street. A few passersby slowed, eyes widening as they caught the name¡ª Byfox. The name of a land swallowed by the Mirrorwood, of a bloodline that should have been long dead. The guard hesitated, mouth opening, then closing. Callista¡¯s lips curled into something that was almost a smile. ¡°I would strongly advise you to let my party and me in.¡± The second guard¡ª a woman with a scar across her cheek¡ª narrowed her eyes but did not move to stop them. Instead, she murmured something to the first, who cursed under his breath before turning back to Callista. ¡°...Wait here,¡± he said stiffly, before disappearing through the palace gates. Callista exhaled, rolling her shoulders as she turned to the others. ¡°See?¡± she said, smug. ¡°Proper channels.¡± Melissa smirked. ¡°Oh yeah. Real proper.¡± Brandon crossed his arms. ¡°You do realize we just announced our presence to every political schemer in the city, right?¡± Callista arched a brow. ¡°Good. Let them know I¡¯m back.¡± From behind her, Gorgoloth clicked his mandibles. And Swynden waited. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Swynden¡¯s palace had once been the heart of Milana¡¯s power, its marble halls echoing with the voices of rulers who shaped the land. Now, it was a place of quiet tension, of hushed whispers behind hands and half-finished decrees gathering dust on the council tables. Callista walked through its corridors as if her family had never left. The guards led them through high-arched doorways into the throne hall¡ª though there was no throne. Instead, two seats of dark wood sat side by side on the raised platform, three banners framing them. On the left was the green-and-iron of the Rummi family, on the right the white-and-black of the Geurlas. And in the middle was the Ionian national banner, gold and red as blood. Adela Rummi and Onesta Geurla sat in those chairs, and the distance between them might as well have been an ocean. Adela was sharp angles and cold ambition, with her dark hair pinned in a severe braid and her crimson robes carefully arranged. She looked at Callista as one might regard a ghost¡ª half-wary, half-disbelieving. Onesta was her opposite in every way: older, stockier, her gray curls left loose around her shoulders. Her fine garments were practical but worn at the edges, her fingers ink-stained from a life spent writing orders no one obeyed. She squinted at Callista with something approaching disdain. ¡°So,¡± Adela murmured, leaning forward. ¡°The lost duchess of Byfox graces us with her presence.¡± Callista lifted her chin. ¡°And you should be grateful.¡± The court erupted in whispers. Isn¡¯t she dead? Byfox is lost to the Mirrorwood¡ª what claim does she even have. Look at her veins. Darkened. Is she... Cursed? Callista heard it all. She did not care. Melissa stood with her arms crossed, clearly holding back a smirk. Julia. ever the diplomat, kept her expression carefully neutral. Brandon remained at Callista¡¯s side, as steady as ever, while Brenna shifted uncomfortably, glancing around at the muttering nobles. Gorgoloth, to his credit, remained impressively still, though his eight eyes flickered toward anyone who spoke too loudly. It was Adela who finally broke the silence. ¡°You arrive in our city, unannounced, and expect us to believe you are who you say you are?¡± She raised a single dark brow. ¡°What proof do you have?¡± Callista smiled coldly. ¡°I have my name. I have my blood. And if that¡¯s not enough, I have my power and the experience of fleeing my burning home in the night.¡± Adela¡¯s lips twitched at the corner, though whether in amusement or irritation was unclear. ¡°Name and blood don¡¯t mean much when your duchy is gone.¡± Callista stepped forward, slow and deliberate. ¡°Gone,¡± she repeated, her voice quiet but cutting. ¡°Or taken? I have been through too much to be denied.¡± Onesta let out a long-suffering sigh. ¡°We do not have time for old claims.¡± She rubbed at her temple as if fending off a headache. ¡°Swynden has enough problems without ghosts dredging up the past.¡± Adela shot her a glare, then smiled sweetly at Callista. ¡°Perhaps a ghost is exactly what we need.¡± The tension between them was palpable. It was no secret that the two co-rulers distrusted each other¡ª Adela, the cold strategist who believed in rule by force, and Onesta, the exhausted bureaucrat trying to keep the city from falling apart under the weight of indecision. The council was deadlocked on nearly every issue, half favoring Adela¡¯s ruthless pragmatism, the other half clinging to Onesta¡¯s fraying ideals. It was why Swynden stagnated. Why the city waited in uneasy silence, caught between two rulers who could not stand each other. ¡°Well,¡± Callista said finally, sweeping her gaze across the court. ¡°Since you are clearly desperate for leadership, allow me to offer my services.¡± Adela smirked. Onesta sighed. And, somewhere in the palace, people listened. The whispers still echoed through the throne hall, murmurs of disbelief and unease rippling outward like cracks in old stone. Callista stood at the center of it, spine straight, chin lifted, utterly unshaken. ¡°I didn¡¯t come here to play court politics,¡± she said, her voice steady and clear. ¡°I came here to end the Curse.¡± Silence. Then¡ª laughter. Adela was the first to chuckle, low and amused, shaking her head as she leaned back in her seat. Onesta¡¯s laugh was more of a disbelieving huff, half a scoff and half sheer exhaustion. ¡°Oh, you are going to end the Curse?¡± Adela said, a smirk curling her lips. ¡°And how, exactly, does a what¡ª twenty-year-old?¡ª plan to accomplish what the greatest minds of the last thirty years could not?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care how old I am.¡± Callista met Adela¡¯s gaze without flinching. ¡°I know the Mirrorwood better than any of you ever will. I lived it.¡± She flexed her fingers at her sides, as if resisting the urge to show them the darkened veins creeping beneath her sleeves. ¡°And I won¡¯t stop until it¡¯s done. Either we end the Curse, or we die trying.¡± Onesta sighed, rubbing her temple as though warding off an impending migraine. ¡°Saints above,¡± she muttered. ¡°It¡¯s like listening to a character in a badly written play.¡± Adela smirked. ¡°The Duchess Who Died Twice¡ª has a nice ring to it, don¡¯t you think?¡± Melissa let out a low whistle. ¡°Damn. Y¡¯all are mean.¡± Callista ignored them. ¡°Mock me all you like,¡± she said coolly. ¡°But what¡¯s your alternative? Wait another thirty years and hope it just... fixes itself?¡± That, at least, sobered Onesta. She exhaled heavily, rubbing at the space between her brows. Adela, however, seemed more entertained than anything. ¡°Your confidence is charming, truly. But there is more at work here than you realize. The Curse is not something you can simply fix with sheer determination.¡± ¡°I know that,¡± Callista snapped. ¡°But someone has to do something.¡± Adela tapped her fingers on the armrest of her chair, studying Callista with something like curiosity. ¡°You really mean it, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be here if I didn¡¯t.¡± The silence stretched long. Then Onesta let out another sigh, this one almost amused. ¡°Well, if you¡¯re determined to throw yourself at a problem that¡¯s killed better people than you, far be it from us to stop you.¡± Adela hummed in agreement. ¡°Though if you insist on chasing impossible answers, you may as well start with Evadne Sharmure.¡± The name sent another ripple through the gathered nobles, some shifting uncomfortably, others exchanging glances. Callista narrowed her eyes. ¡°I¡¯ve heard the name.¡± ¡°I imagine you have.¡± Adela¡¯s smirk turned sharper. ¡°She¡¯s been... advising us on the matter for quite some time. Among others¡± Onesta¡¯s mouth twitched. ¡°Advising. That¡¯s one way to put it.¡± Callista glanced at Brenna, who gave the barest nod. They had heard rumors of Evadne over the years, of her quiet influence over both rulers, of the way she whispered in ears and pulled strings that no one else could see. Adela gestured vaguely toward the far end of the chamber. ¡°She¡¯s expecting you.¡± Callista arched a brow. ¡°Is she?¡± Adela¡¯s smirk deepened. ¡°Evadne always knows when someone is coming.¡± Callista¡¯s jaw tightened, but she said nothing. Instead, she turned sharply on her heel, striding toward the chamber doors with the others falling into step behind her. ¡°Oh, Lady Byfox?¡± Adela called from her throne. ¡°You will be given a suite of rooms as befits a woman of your station. There will be room for your companions as well. Do stay awhile, will you?¡± Callista ignored her. Melissa leaned in as they walked, muttering under her breath. ¡°So, let me get this straight. We just announced ourselves as a problem, got laughed at, and were sent off to talk to a creepy mystery woman?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Callista said. Melissa clicked her tongue. ¡°Love that for us.¡± Brenna, beside them, exhaled softly. ¡°Callista.¡± Callista didn¡¯t stop walking. ¡°I know.¡± Because despite the bravado, despite the way she had stood firm against their mockery, she knew one thing for certain. Evadne Sharmure wasn¡¯t just expecting her. She had been waiting. Chapter 26 Swynden rose before them, sprawling and unfamiliar. The capital of Milana had not been Milana¡¯s in Callista¡¯s lifetime. Iona had held it for as long as she could remember, its banners draped over the city¡¯s bones, its presence woven into the streets like a stain that could not be scrubbed away. She had read of the city¡¯s grandeur in history books, traced her fingers over faded maps, and imagined the towering spires and bustling markets in the quiet hours of the night. She had dreamed of the city her distant family had once ruled¡ª not the one she was now entering. The banners of Tormevi blue and silver were long gone, replaced by Iona¡¯s deep crimson and gold. The once-proud marble facades of the noble quarter were dulled by soot and grime, their balconies empty where they had once overflowed with flowers. The streets felt narrower than she had imagined, not because they had changed but because occupation had a weight, and it pressed in from all sides. And the people¡ª Callista had expected suspicion. Perhaps even fear. What she had not expected was exhaustion. The eyes that flickered toward them held no spark of curiosity, no trace of the pride that had once defined Milana¡¯s heart. The people moved like ghosts, heads bowed, hands tucked close to their bodies as if afraid to draw attention. This was not a city waiting for freedom. This was a city that had learned to survive. The buildings bore scars, not of war but of occupation. Of power shifting to irresponsible hands. A burned-out husk of a temple, doors chained shut. A statue, once grand but now decapitated, broken pieces left to crumble in the gutter. A row of gallows, empty but waiting. Callista clenched her hands at her sides. This was not the city her ancestors ruled. But it would be again. Duchess Callista Nazenne Ettaria of Byfox, straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and strode forward like she belonged. Because she did. Melissa adjusted the straps of her pack, glancing sidelong at Callista. So, uh. We¡¯re just walking in?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Callista said, voice crisp. ¡°No sneaking?¡± Brenna asked, a note of hope in her voice. ¡°No sneaking,¡± Callista confirmed. Brandon let out a low sigh, running a hand through his hair. ¡°Callista...¡± She turned on her heel to face them. ¡°I am the Duchess of Byfox,¡± she said, enunciating each syllable as though daring them to argue. ¡°Great-niece of the queen. I will not hide.¡± Julia, to her credit, did not argue. Instead, she tilted her head, expression assessing. ¡°So we¡¯re making an entrance.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Callista said. Melissa let out a short laugh. ¡°Well. That¡¯s going to be fun.¡± Gorgoloth clicked his mandibles in what sounded suspiciously like agreement. The guards at the city gates barely spared them a glance as they passed into Swynden proper. The streets were alive with the hum of midday traffic¡ª merchants hawking their wares, children darting between carts, couriers on horseback weaving through the flow of people. The scent of fresh bread and roasting meat clashed with the ever-present undercurrent of damp stone and horses. Callista ignored it all. She moved with purpose, the others falling into step behind her as they crossed the stone-paved roads toward the palace. The guards at the palace gates, unlike those at the city entrance, did not ignore them. ¡°Halt,¡± one of them commanded, stepping forward, hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. His eyes flicked over their group, lingering on Callista¡¯s battered but tailored coat and the steel in her gaze. ¡°State your business.¡± Callista did not hesitate. ¡°I am Callista Nazenne, Duchess of Byfox, heir of Tormevi blood, and I have come to reclaim my place.¡± A silence settled over the street. A few passersby slowed, eyes widening as they caught the name¡ª Byfox. The name of a land swallowed by the Mirrorwood, of a bloodline that should have been long dead. The guard hesitated, mouth opening, then closing. Callista¡¯s lips curled into something that was almost a smile. ¡°I would strongly advise you to let my party and me in.¡± The second guard¡ª a woman with a scar across her cheek¡ª narrowed her eyes but did not move to stop them. Instead, she murmured something to the first, who cursed under his breath before turning back to Callista. ¡°...Wait here,¡± he said stiffly, before disappearing through the palace gates. Callista exhaled, rolling her shoulders as she turned to the others. ¡°See?¡± she said, smug. ¡°Proper channels.¡± Melissa smirked. ¡°Oh yeah. Real proper.¡± Brandon crossed his arms. ¡°You do realize we just announced our presence to every political schemer in the city, right?¡± Callista arched a brow. ¡°Good. Let them know I¡¯m back.¡± From behind her, Gorgoloth clicked his mandibles. And Swynden waited. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Swynden¡¯s palace had once been the heart of Milana¡¯s power, its marble halls echoing with the voices of rulers who shaped the land. Now, it was a place of quiet tension, of hushed whispers behind hands and half-finished decrees gathering dust on the council tables. Callista walked through its corridors as if her family had never left. The guards led them through high-arched doorways into the throne hall¡ª though there was no throne. Instead, two seats of dark wood sat side by side on the raised platform, three banners framing them. On the left was the green-and-iron of the Rummi family, on the right the white-and-black of the Geurlas. And in the middle was the Ionian national banner, gold and red as blood. Adela Rummi and Onesta Geurla sat in those chairs, and the distance between them might as well have been an ocean. Adela was sharp angles and cold ambition, with her dark hair pinned in a severe braid and her crimson robes carefully arranged. She looked at Callista as one might regard a ghost¡ª half-wary, half-disbelieving. Onesta was her opposite in every way: older, stockier, her gray curls left loose around her shoulders. Her fine garments were practical but worn at the edges, her fingers ink-stained from a life spent writing orders no one obeyed. She squinted at Callista with something approaching disdain. ¡°So,¡± Adela murmured, leaning forward. ¡°The lost duchess of Byfox graces us with her presence.¡± Callista lifted her chin. ¡°And you should be grateful.¡± The court erupted in whispers. Isn¡¯t she dead? Byfox is lost to the Mirrorwood¡ª what claim does she even have. Look at her veins. Darkened. Is she... Cursed? Callista heard it all. She did not care. Melissa stood with her arms crossed, clearly holding back a smirk. Julia. ever the diplomat, kept her expression carefully neutral. Brandon remained at Callista¡¯s side, as steady as ever, while Brenna shifted uncomfortably, glancing around at the muttering nobles. Gorgoloth, to his credit, remained impressively still, though his eight eyes flickered toward anyone who spoke too loudly. It was Adela who finally broke the silence. ¡°You arrive in our city, unannounced, and expect us to believe you are who you say you are?¡± She raised a single dark brow. ¡°What proof do you have?¡± Callista smiled coldly. ¡°I have my name. I have my blood. And if that¡¯s not enough, I have my power and the experience of fleeing my burning home in the night.¡± Adela¡¯s lips twitched at the corner, though whether in amusement or irritation was unclear. ¡°Name and blood don¡¯t mean much when your duchy is gone.¡± Callista stepped forward, slow and deliberate. ¡°Gone,¡± she repeated, her voice quiet but cutting. ¡°Or taken? I have been through too much to be denied.¡± Onesta let out a long-suffering sigh. ¡°We do not have time for old claims.¡± She rubbed at her temple as if fending off a headache. ¡°Swynden has enough problems without ghosts dredging up the past.¡± Adela shot her a glare, then smiled sweetly at Callista. ¡°Perhaps a ghost is exactly what we need.¡± The tension between them was palpable. It was no secret that the two co-rulers distrusted each other¡ª Adela, the cold strategist who believed in rule by force, and Onesta, the exhausted bureaucrat trying to keep the city from falling apart under the weight of indecision. The council was deadlocked on nearly every issue, half favoring Adela¡¯s ruthless pragmatism, the other half clinging to Onesta¡¯s fraying ideals. It was why Swynden stagnated. Why the city waited in uneasy silence, caught between two rulers who could not stand each other. ¡°Well,¡± Callista said finally, sweeping her gaze across the court. ¡°Since you are clearly desperate for leadership, allow me to offer my services.¡± Adela smirked. Onesta sighed. And, somewhere in the palace, people listened. The whispers still echoed through the throne hall, murmurs of disbelief and unease rippling outward like cracks in old stone. Callista stood at the center of it, spine straight, chin lifted, utterly unshaken. ¡°I didn¡¯t come here to play court politics,¡± she said, her voice steady and clear. ¡°I came here to end the Curse.¡± Silence. Then¡ª laughter. Adela was the first to chuckle, low and amused, shaking her head as she leaned back in her seat. Onesta¡¯s laugh was more of a disbelieving huff, half a scoff and half sheer exhaustion. ¡°Oh, you are going to end the Curse?¡± Adela said, a smirk curling her lips. ¡°And how, exactly, does a what¡ª twenty-year-old?¡ª plan to accomplish what the greatest minds of the last thirty years could not?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care how old I am.¡± Callista met Adela¡¯s gaze without flinching. ¡°I know the Mirrorwood better than any of you ever will. I lived it.¡± She flexed her fingers at her sides, as if resisting the urge to show them the darkened veins creeping beneath her sleeves. ¡°And I won¡¯t stop until it¡¯s done. Either we end the Curse, or we die trying.¡± Onesta sighed, rubbing her temple as though warding off an impending migraine. ¡°Saints above,¡± she muttered. ¡°It¡¯s like listening to a character in a badly written play.¡± Adela smirked. ¡°The Duchess Who Died Twice¡ª has a nice ring to it, don¡¯t you think?¡± Melissa let out a low whistle. ¡°Damn. Y¡¯all are mean.¡± Callista ignored them. ¡°Mock me all you like,¡± she said coolly. ¡°But what¡¯s your alternative? Wait another thirty years and hope it just... fixes itself?¡± That, at least, sobered Onesta. She exhaled heavily, rubbing at the space between her brows. Adela, however, seemed more entertained than anything. ¡°Your confidence is charming, truly. But there is more at work here than you realize. The Curse is not something you can simply fix with sheer determination.¡± ¡°I know that,¡± Callista snapped. ¡°But someone has to do something.¡± Adela tapped her fingers on the armrest of her chair, studying Callista with something like curiosity. ¡°You really mean it, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be here if I didn¡¯t.¡± The silence stretched long. Then Onesta let out another sigh, this one almost amused. ¡°Well, if you¡¯re determined to throw yourself at a problem that¡¯s killed better people than you, far be it from us to stop you.¡± Adela hummed in agreement. ¡°Though if you insist on chasing impossible answers, you may as well start with Evadne Sharmure.¡± The name sent another ripple through the gathered nobles, some shifting uncomfortably, others exchanging glances. Callista narrowed her eyes. ¡°I¡¯ve heard the name.¡± ¡°I imagine you have.¡± Adela¡¯s smirk turned sharper. ¡°She¡¯s been... advising us on the matter for quite some time. Among others¡± Onesta¡¯s mouth twitched. ¡°Advising. That¡¯s one way to put it.¡± Callista glanced at Brenna, who gave the barest nod. They had heard rumors of Evadne over the years, of her quiet influence over both rulers, of the way she whispered in ears and pulled strings that no one else could see. Adela gestured vaguely toward the far end of the chamber. ¡°She¡¯s expecting you.¡± Callista arched a brow. ¡°Is she?¡± Adela¡¯s smirk deepened. ¡°Evadne always knows when someone is coming.¡± Callista¡¯s jaw tightened, but she said nothing. Instead, she turned sharply on her heel, striding toward the chamber doors with the others falling into step behind her. ¡°Oh, Lady Byfox?¡± Adela called from her throne. ¡°You will be given a suite of rooms as befits a woman of your station. There will be room for your companions as well. Do stay awhile, will you?¡± Callista ignored her. Melissa leaned in as they walked, muttering under her breath. ¡°So, let me get this straight. We just announced ourselves as a problem, got laughed at, and were sent off to talk to a creepy mystery woman?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Callista said. Melissa clicked her tongue. ¡°Love that for us.¡± Brenna, beside them, exhaled softly. ¡°Callista.¡± Callista didn¡¯t stop walking. ¡°I know.¡± Because despite the bravado, despite the way she had stood firm against their mockery, she knew one thing for certain. Evadne Sharmure wasn¡¯t just expecting her. She had been waiting. Chapter 27 The chamber was dimly lit, the heavy drapes drawn just enough to let in slanted beams of the afternoon sun. It was not the grand, gilded meeting hall they had expected, but a private study¡ª warm, quiet, lined with high bookshelves and the scent of parchment and ink. A fire burned low in the hearth, casting flickering shadows over the polished wooden floor. Evadne Sharmure was already waiting. She stood near the window, half illuminated by the waning light, tall and unnervingly still. She was pale¡ª paler than she should have been, as if the sun had long forgotten her¡ª but there was nothing sickly about her. Her black hair, cut just past her shoulders, framed a face that was both sharp and smooth, the kind of beauty that could be mistaken for gentleness until one looked closer. And then there was the mark. The moment Callista and Brenna stepped inside, their gazes fell to her forearm, to the small, diamond-shaped brand just visible beneath the loose cuff of her sleeve. A Soul Stealer. Brenna inhaled sharply. Callista felt something cold crawl up her spine. No one else reacted. Melissa was too busy scanning the bookshelves, Julia too caught up in assessing Evadne¡¯s posture, her presence. Brandon, standing just slightly in front of Annemarie, seemed more focused on the way Evadne¡¯s gaze flicked over them¡ª curious, but not unkind. If she noticed the way Callista and Brenna stiffened, she didn¡¯t comment. Instead, she turned to them with a small, knowing smile. ¡°You must be exhausted,¡± she said smoothly. ¡°Traveling in and out of the Mirrorwood is no small feat.¡± Her voice was softer than Callista had expected. Measured, careful. Callista forced herself to lift her chin, to push past the thundering of her pulse. ¡°We¡¯re used to exhaustion.¡± Evadne studied her for a moment, then nodded, as if she had expected that response. ¡°Of course.¡± She gestured toward the chairs arranged in a loose semicircle near the hearth. ¡°Please, sit. We have much to discuss.¡± There was a moment of hesitation¡ª Callista saw Julia glance toward Brandon, saw the way Annemarie¡¯s brow furrowed just slightly. But then Melissa flopped into the nearest chair without hesitation, and that broke whatever tension had been forming. The others followed, some slower than others. Evadne took the seat across from them, folding her hands neatly in her lap. ¡°I was told you intend to break the Curse.¡± Callista met her gaze evenly, though everything in her screamed to look away. ¡°Yes.¡± Evadne hummed, tilting her head slightly. ¡°Ambitious. But then again, surviving the Mirrorwood at all is no small feat. You must be... remarkable.¡± There was something about the way she said it, something careful and almost hungry beneath the surface of her words. Callista forced her shoulders to remain loose, her expression impassive. ¡°We¡¯re alive. That¡¯s enough.¡± ¡°Is it?¡± Evadne asked, and though she was smiling, there was something in her eyes¡ª something that said she already knew the answer. A silence stretched between them, thin and charged. Then, Julia cleared her throat. ¡°We came here because we need information,¡± she said, leaning forward. ¡°We know the Curse didn¡¯t appear out of nowhere. It wasn¡¯t just some act of divine punishment, no matter what people believe. Someone did this. Someone made the Mirrorwood what it is now.¡± Evadne tapped a single finger against the arm of her chair. ¡°And you think I know who.¡± Julia¡¯s lips pressed together. ¡°We think you might know something.¡± Evadne exhaled softly, as if considering. Then, to Callista¡¯s surprise, she nodded. ¡°I may.¡± The room seemed to tighten. ¡°But,¡± Evadne continued, ¡°information is a delicate thing. If you truly want answers, you must understand¡ª what you are seeking is not just knowledge. It is history soaked in blood. The Mirrorwood did not become what it is overnight. It took decades of suffering, of slow unraveling. And those responsible...¡± she trailed off, her gaze flicking to Callista once more. ¡°Well. Some of them were not as lost as we believed.¡± Callista¡¯s throat tightened. ¡°What are you saying?¡± Brandon asked, voice low. Evadne¡¯s lips curved slightly. ¡°I¡¯m saying there are more ghosts in this story than the ones we tell children.¡± A chill pricked at the back of Callista¡¯s neck. Evadne leaned forward just slightly, resting her hands on her knees. ¡°If you wish to untangle the Mirrorwood¡¯s secrets, I will help you.¡± Her gaze settled fully on Callista now, sharp and assessing. ¡°But tell me, Duchess of Byfox¡ª how exactly did you escape the fate that swallowed your land?¡± The fire crackled. The shadows stretched. And Callista¡ª every instinct in her body screaming to run¡ª wasn¡¯t sure how to answer. Evadne studied them for a long moment, the firelight casting flickering shadows across her sharp features. Then, with a measured nod, she leaned back in her chair. ¡°I will help you,¡± she repeated simply. A breath Callista hadn¡¯t realized she was holding slipped from her lungs. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°But not tonight,¡± Evadne continued, rising smoothly to her feet. ¡°I need time. The Mirrorwood is no ordinary curse, and if I am to aid you, I must be sure of what I can offer.¡± Julia frowned. ¡°And you need a night to figure that out?¡± Evadne smiled, but there was something unreadable in the curve of her lips. ¡°I have resources you do not.¡± Her gaze flicked to Callista again, assessing, searching. ¡°Rest. Return tomorrow, and we will discuss how best to proceed.¡± Melissa exhaled loudly. ¡°Great. Homework.¡± Evadne ignored her, turning toward the door. ¡°I will have a servant escort you to your rooms.¡± Brandon hesitated. ¡°How do we know you won¡¯t just disappear?¡± Evadne glanced at him, and though her expression didn¡¯t change, something behind her eyes sharpened. ¡°Because I am not your enemy, Brandon Larimer.¡± His jaw tensed at the use of his full name, but he said nothing. Callista stood, smoothing her coat with careful precision. ¡°Tomorrow, then.¡± Evadne gave a small, almost approving nod. ¡°Tomorrow.¡± She turned away, moving toward a bookshelf on the far side of the room, and with that, they were dismissed. The palace halls were quiet as they followed their assigned attendant¡ª a young woman with a freckled face and a nervous energy that suggested she wasn¡¯t used to escorting unexpected guests. The walk was long, winding through corridors of old marble and high-arched ceilings, the torches casting flickering golden light along the walls. ¡°Are we just trusting her now?¡± Brenna muttered, keeping her voice low.¡± ¡°No,¡± Julia said simply. ¡°But we need her.¡± Melissa stretched her arms above her head, yawning. ¡°She¡¯s creepy, but at least she didn¡¯t try to murder us right off the bat. That¡¯s a good start.¡± Brandon, walking just behind them, was less convinced. ¡°She knew our names,¡± he said quietly. ¡°Even the ones we never told her.¡± Callista barely heard them. She was still turning Evadne¡¯s words over in her mind. How, exactly, did you escape the fate that swallowed your land? She didn¡¯t know what answer Evadne had been hoping for. And that unsettled her more than she cared to admit. They reached their rooms a few minutes later¡ª a suite, as expected, given her status. The doors opened into a spacious sitting area, a fireplace already lit, the furniture arranged with effortless elegance. Through a second doorway, Callista could see a grand bedroom, draped in deep reds and golds. ¡°Well,¡± Melissa said, flopping dramatically onto one of the velvet chairs. ¡°At least the noble treatment doesn¡¯t suck.¡± Callista ignored her, moving toward the window. The view overlooked the city¡ª Swynden, dark and sprawling, its streets alive with torchlight and movement. I will help you. Evadne¡¯s voice echoed in her mind. She didn¡¯t believe her. But for now, there was nothing to do but wait. The fire crackled in the hearth, filling the suite with a soft golden light, but the warmth did nothing to ease the tension pressing down on the room. Callista stood near the window, arms crossed, watching the dark city beyond the glass. Brenna sat stiffly in one of the chairs, her fingers drumming restlessly against the armrest. The others had settled in, exhaustion weighing them down after the long day, but Callista could tell none of them were ready to sleep. ¡°We can¡¯t trust her,¡± Callista said finally. Melissa, sprawled across a couch, groaned. ¡°Wow, shocking. And here I was thinking our creepy, all-knowing new friend was completely normal.¡± Julia ignored her, leaning forward. ¡°Why?¡± Callista turned from the window, exchanging a glance with Brenna before answering. ¡°Evadne Sharmure isn¡¯t just an advisor. She¡¯s an Eldramori.¡± Silence. Melissa blinked. ¡°Okay. And that means?¡± Brenna sat up straighter, expression grim. ¡°She¡¯s a Soul Stealer.¡± This time, the reaction was more immediate. Brandon tensed, and Annemarie¡¯s brow furrowed in concern. Julia, however, didn¡¯t flinch¡ª she simply nodded, as if filing the information away, calculating. ¡°I don¡¯t know much about Eldramoria,¡± she admitted. ¡°My father mentioned them in his journals, but never in detail. He mostly referred to them in passing.¡± She turned her gaze to Callista and Brenna. ¡°I¡¯m guessing you two know more.¡± Brenna exhaled slowly. ¡°Yeah. We do.¡± Callista moved toward the sitting area, resting her hands on the back of a chair. ¡°Eldramoria¡ª Soul Stealers, in the colloquium¡ª are a form of magic user, where their magic is tied to souls. Most of them are only able to sense things¡ª people¡¯s presence, strong emotions, the echoes of where someone has been. They have an awareness of life that others don¡¯t.¡± Brandon frowned. ¡°So she knew our names because...?¡± ¡°Because she can feel us,¡± Brenna said quietly. ¡°Maybe she overheard rumors, maybe she pieced things together, but I guarantee she already knew a lot about us the moment we walked into that room.¡± Julia tapped her fingers against her knee, thinking. ¡°That¡¯s... unsettling, but not necessarily dangerous. You¡¯re making it sound like it is.¡± Callista nodded. ¡°It is dangerous. Most Soul Stealers never amount to much. Their magic is passive, their abilities are limited. But Evadne?¡± She exhaled sharply. ¡°Either she¡¯s extremely cunning, or she¡¯s very powerful. You don¡¯t get that kind of influence in Swynden¡ª whispering in the ears of two rulers¡ª without being one or the other. Or both.¡± Brandon¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°Great.¡± Melissa rubbed at her temples. ¡°Okay, but what else can they do? Like, the name ¡®Soul Stealer¡¯ isn¡¯t exactly comforting.¡± Brenna hesitated. ¡°Most of them can¡¯t actually steal anything. That¡¯s a myth.¡± ¡°Mostly,¡± Callista corrected. Brenna sighed. ¡°Mostly.¡± Melissa squinted. ¡°Mostly?¡± Callista straightened. ¡°There are rumors¡ª very old, very well-buried¡ª that some of the most powerful Eldramoria can pull from others. Not just sense emotions, but influence them. Not just detect a presence, but drain it. It¡¯s why they were called Soul Stealers in the first place.¡± Annemarie shifted in her seat. ¡°And you think Evadne...?¡± Callista didn¡¯t answer straight away. Instead, she stared at the fire, the flames twisting in the dim light. ¡°I think she didn¡¯t get to where she is by being harmless.¡± The words settled like a stone in the room. Julia exhaled. ¡°Well. That¡¯s fantastic news.¡± Brandon ran a hand over his face. ¡°So we have to deal with her.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Callista said. ¡°We do.¡± Melissa clapped her hands together, forcing a grin. ¡°Okay, cool, so: we¡¯re making deals with a possibly very dangerous, very creepy soul lady who might be stealing our essence or whatever. Great. Love that. Let¡¯s all make sure we don¡¯t, you know, die horribly tomorrow.¡± Brenna scoffed. ¡°That would be a nice change of pace.¡± Callista sighed, rubbing at her temples. ¡°We¡¯ll be careful. We¡¯ll go in tomorrow, we listen, we learn. But we do not trust her. No matter how helpful she seems.¡± Julia nodded, looking around at the group. ¡°Agreed?¡± One by one, they all murmured their assent. And in the quiet that followed, the fire burned lower, the shadows deepened, and Callista wondered if Evadne Sharmure already knew exactly what they had discussed. Chapter 28 Morning came with the heavy stillness of a city waiting for something to break. The sky over Swynden was a pale, washed-out blue, streaked with the remnants of mist that clung stubbornly to the rooftops. The streets hummed with quiet movement, the people of the capital going about their day with the practiced wariness of those who had lived under uneasy rule for too long. Callista barely paid it any mind. A sharp knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts, and when she opened it, a young servant stood there looking vaguely uncomfortable. ¡°Lady Sharmure requests your presence for breakfast,¡± he said, glancing between her and the others, who were awake¡ª but just barely, scattered dazedly about the suite. Julia, still half-asleep, groaned into one of the couch pillows. ¡°It¡¯s too early for ominous invitations.¡± Melissa stretched, cracking her neck. ¡°At least it''s breakfast and not, like, a blood ritual.¡± Brandon shot her a look. ¡°Yet.¡± Callista waved off the servant with a curt nod, then turned back to the group. ¡°We¡¯re going. But first¡ª wards.¡± Brenna was already pulling a small pouch from her bag, standing from where she¡¯d been perched on the floor. ¡°Agreed.¡± Melissa frowned. ¡°Isn¡¯t that a little much? I mean, she didn¡¯t do anything to us last night.¡± Callista fixed her with a pointed look. ¡°Nothing that we¡¯re aware of.¡± That was enough to shut down any argument. They worked quickly. Brenna, more experienced with warding magic, took the lead, tracing the symbols carefully over the napes of their necks with a fine layer of protective dust¡ª charcoal and ground bone, infused with spells old enough to make Julia frown in recognition. Callista followed, murmuring the incantations under her breath, feeling the faint hum of power settle against her skin. ¡°These won¡¯t last forever,¡± Brenna warned. ¡°But if she tries anything, we¡¯ll know.¡± Melissa wiggled her fingers. ¡°Okay, but what happens if she does try something?¡± ¡°Depends on how strong she is,¡± Callista admitted, wiping the excess dust from her palms. ¡°If she¡¯s just passively reading us, she might not even feel it. If she pushes¡ª¡± ¡°She¡¯ll regret it,¡± Brenna finished, smirking. Brandon rolled his shoulders. ¡°Let¡¯s hope it doesn¡¯t come to that.¡± Evadne¡¯s private dining room was as elegantly understated as the woman herself¡ª dark wood, high windows that let in the weak morning light, a spread of fresh bread, fruit, and tea already waiting at the table. She looked up as they entered, taking them in with an amused sort of patience. And then she laughed. The sound was soft, lilting¡ª almost delighted. ¡°Oh,¡± she said, smiling in a way that made Callista¡¯s teeth clench. ¡°You warded yourselves. How charming.¡± The air in the room shifted, tension curling at the edges of it. Julia stiffened. Brandon¡¯s hand twitched near his belt. Evadne lifted her cup, entirely unconcerned. ¡°Please, sit. I assure you, if I wanted to break you, I wouldn¡¯t have invited you to breakfast.¡± Callista held her gaze for a moment longer, then lowered herself into a chair, the others following suit. Evadne waited until tea had been poured before speaking again. ¡°Now. You want to know about the Mirrorwood.¡± She turned her gaze toward Julia. ¡°You were right, you know. It wasn¡¯t just divine punishment¡ª it was something made.¡± Julia sat up straighter. ¡°And how do you know?¡± ¡°I know pieces,¡± Evadne clarified. ¡°But knowledge is scattered. If you truly want to understand the early days of the Curse, I suggest starting with the archives.¡± Callista frowned. ¡°The archives?¡± Evadne gestured vaguely. ¡°The royal archives hold records from before the fall of Milana. Not all were destroyed when the Nameless Ones revolted¡ª some were simply... buried. Overlooked. I have no doubt you¡¯ll find something useful, if you know where to look.¡± Brenna narrowed her eyes. ¡°And what will you be doing?¡± Evadne smiled. ¡°As much as I enjoy the company, I have my own methods of gathering information. I will reach out to my contacts. There are those who still remember the beginning of all this, and I would rather speak to the living than dig through old parchment.¡± Brandon exhaled slowly. ¡°And you expect us to just take your word on this?¡± Evadne¡¯s smile didn¡¯t waver. ¡°I expect you to make use of the resources available to you. Whether or not you trust me is your own concern.¡± Callista¡¯s fingers tightened around her cup. Evadne was helping them. But she was also leading them, carefully, deliberately. And Callista hated being led. ¡°I still don¡¯t see why I have to do this,¡± Melissa grumbled, holding up two bright blue satin ribbons, eyeing them with clear reluctance. Callista, already halfway through buckling her coat, barely spared her a glance. ¡°Because if you don¡¯t, the guards will try to kill him.¡± Melissa sighed dramatically and turned to where Gorgoloth loomed in the corner of the suite. His many eyes gleamed as he clicked his mandibles at her. He had been pacing restlessly for the last ten minutes, clearly agitated about being confined indoors for too long. ¡°I know you want to go hunt, buddy, but we have rules now,¡± Melissa told him as she stepped closer, ribbons in hand. ¡°Apparently, some people thing ¡®giant spider roaming the palace¡¯ is a problem.¡± Gorgoloth chittered in what she firmly believed was protest, but she ignored him, reaching up to loop the ribbons around two of his front legs and tying them in neat bows. The satin stood out obnoxiously against his dark chitin, a sharp contrast to the subtle menace of his eight-legged frame. ¡°Saints above,¡± Brenna muttered, pressing a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing. Julia tilted her head. ¡°That is... certainly a look.¡± Melissa grinned. ¡°He¡¯s adorable.¡± Brandon raised an eyebrow. ¡°Adorable is not the word I¡¯d use.¡± ¡°You¡¯re just jealous.¡± Annemarie, who had been watching the entire exchange with amusement, leaned over to get a better look. ¡°You¡¯re sure this will work?¡± Melissa huffed. ¡°If a grown-ass nobleman can walk around with a velvet cape straight out of a bad romance novel, Gorgoloth can wear some ribbons. She tied a small note to one of them, making sure it was securely knotted before stepping back again to admire her work. The note read: Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. If Lost, Return to Melissa Ramirez c/o Lady Byfox Julia snorted. ¡°Very professional.¡± Melissa shrugged. ¡°What? I don¡¯t want him getting impounded or something.¡± Callista, who had been watching the whole exchange with thinly veiled impatience, finally crossed her arms. ¡°Are we done?¡± Melissa gave Gorgoloth a fond pat on the rump. ¡°Yeah, yeah, go have fun, buddy.¡± With an eager click of his mandibles, Gorgoloth skittered toward the door, slipping out the moment Melissa cracked it open. He was gone down the hall in an instant, moving with eerie grace despite the satin bows trailing from his legs. Brenna shook her head, still grinning. ¡°This is our life, now.¡± ¡°Better than the Mirrorwood,¡± Julia muttered, heading for the door. With that, they gathered their things and made their way toward the palace archives. The royal archives lay deep beneath the palace, entombed in stone and silence. The heavy iron-bound doors had groaned on their hinges as they were pushed open, revealing a cavernous expanse of history preserved in dust and parchment. The scent of ink and time hung thick in the air¡ª old paper turned brittle with age, melted candle wax pooled along the edges of iron sconces, the faintest trace of leather lingering from the bindings of books untouched for decades. It was vast. Towering bookshelves stretched toward the vaulted ceiling, their wooden frames dark with age, their contents crammed together so tightly that the weight of knowledge itself seemed to press in on the room. Scrolls, manuscripts, and crumbling tomes filled every available surface, stacked in precarious towers atop desks where scribes worked in near silence. The only sounds were the soft rustling of pages, the occasional scratch of a quill against parchment, and the distant shuffle of footsteps over worn stone floors. Julia inhaled deeply, eyes sweeping across the endless corridors of knowledge. It was overwhelming, suffocating in its enormity¡ª and yet, to her, it was perfect. ¡°This,¡± she murmured, almost reverent, ¡°is exactly where I want to be.¡± Melissa wrinkled her nose. ¡°Smells like dust and bad decisions.¡± Brandon gave her a sidelong glance. ¡°Not everything is trying to kill us, you know.¡± Melissa shrugged. ¡°Maybe not, but I don¡¯t trust a place that hasn¡¯t seen daylight in a century.¡± Brandon sighed, glancing around at the sheer enormity of what lay before them. ¡°So where do we even start?¡± Callista didn¡¯t answer immediately. She had stepped away from the group, fingers hovering just above the surface of a gilded volume resting on a nearby table. The cover was well-preserved, the gold filigree marking it as a noble¡¯s book glinting faintly in the dim torchlight. She knew the script at once¡ª elegant, looping Milani letters, written in a precise hand long before the world had turned to ruin. Her breath caught. Vevra Nazenne Tormevi Her mother¡¯s name. A name she hadn¡¯t seen in years. The past had a way of creeping in, no matter how hard she tried to leave it behind. For a long moment, she didn¡¯t move. A scholar crept around her, stealing a glance before snagging the book and moving to a different table. Then, slowly, she exhaled, steeling herself. ¡°We start at the beginning,¡± she said. And so they did. The deeper they dug into the archives, the more obvious it became that something was missing. The records were vast, stretching back centuries, but when it came to the Cleansing of the House of Tormevi only thirty years prior, details blurred into shallow praise and half-truths. The scrolls and books they pulled from the shelves spoke glowingly of the Nameless Ones¡ª how they had liberated Milana from an era of tyranny, how they had purged corruption from the noble houses and ushered in an age of unity. But there were gaps. Glaring gaps. There were no firsthand accounts from the victims. No neutral observations. Nothing that even hinted at the brutality of what had really happened¡ª no mention of the blood that had run through the streets of Swynden, of the slaughtered innocents, of the bodies burned in the city square. Julia scowled as she flipped through yet another record that sang the praises of the Nameless Ones. They stabilized Milana. They freed the people from the Tormevi¡¯s iron grip. They ensured the future. She slammed the book shut. ¡°This is garbage.¡± Callista barely looked up from the manuscript she was skimming. ¡°Of course it is.¡± Brandon frowned, leaning on the back of Julia¡¯s chair. ¡°So, what? They just rewrote history?¡± ¡°Not just rewrote it,¡± Julia muttered. ¡°They erased it.¡± Brenna was running a finger along the brittle edge of a scroll, brow furrowed. ¡°No record of the massacres, no mention of how the assassins were hired. No accounting for the families that vanished overnight.¡± She let out a slow breath. ¡°I was expecting some revisionism, but this is worse than I thought.¡± Annemarie, who had been following along as best she could, hesitated. ¡°But... the Nameless Ones did take Milana, right? They did kill the Tormevis?¡± Callista¡¯s lips pressed together, her grip on the parchment in front of her tightening. Julia was the one who answered. ¡°Yes. But the way it¡¯s written here, you¡¯d think they did it with a clean blade and a well-placed speech.¡± Brandon crossed his arms. ¡°And that¡¯s not what happened.¡± ¡°No,¡± Callista said coldly. ¡°It isn¡¯t. Do you know how many cousins I should have? How many aunts and uncles? Not to mention my entire Saintsdamned family.¡± She set her jaw. ¡°They killed them all.¡± She turned one of the scrolls toward him, jabbing at the text with her finger. ¡°Do you see what¡¯s missing? The timeline is wrong. The Cleansing was not a swift and decisive coup. It lasted two years, initially. They didn¡¯t just kill the Tormevis, they hunted us down. Slaughtered entire families, even children. Any noble house loyal to them was burned out of existence. The archives don¡¯t mention Byfox, Moorpond, or the dozens of other strongholds that fell. So few survived the Cleansing. It¡¯s just the queen, a handful of cousins in Atriane, and myself.¡± Brandon took a slow breath, absorbing her words. Realizing the stakes. Melissa glanced between them, rubbing the back of her neck. ¡°And you guys already knew all this?¡± ¡°Some of us grew up with the real history,¡± Brenna said quietly. Julia nodded. ¡°And I read my father¡¯s journals. He worked under Queen Kiernen¡ª knew what happened. He recorded it so the truth wouldn¡¯t be buried completely.¡± Brandon exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. ¡°Jesus.¡± Annemarie shifted uncomfortably, running her fingers over the open pages of a book in front of her. ¡°So... the whole country just believes this version?¡± Callista let out a bitter laugh. ¡°What choice do they have? This is the only history they¡¯re allowed to perpetuate.¡± Melissa frowned. ¡°And the people who were there?¡± ¡°The ones who lived through it are either dead or too afraid to say otherwise,¡± Brenna muttered. A silence settled over them. The weight of lost history pressed in from all sides, suffocating and immense. Finally, Julia leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temple. ¡°Alright. We¡¯re not going to find anything new about the Cleansing here. Let¡¯s move on.¡± Callista inhaled deeply, regaining her composure. ¡°Forbidden magic it is.¡± They shifted their search, moving from the history of Milana to the darker records. It took longer to find what they were looking for¡ª many texts on illicit magic had been deliberately removed or destroyed¡ª but the archives were old, some of the texts even older, and this knowledge could never be fully erased. Julia pulled down a heavy tome bound in black leather and set it on the table with a thud. Spiritual Degradation and the Unnatural Arts. Brenna found another, thinner volume titled The Eldramoria and Their Gifts. ¡°All the better to know what we¡¯re working with,¡± she said with a shrug. They read in silence, scanning the fragile pages, expressions darkening as they uncovered the truth. ¡°Soul Stealers were once primarily healers, like Seers are now,¡± Julia murmured, skimming a passage aloud. ¡°Their magic was used to sense sickness, to ease pain. They could feel life itself.¡± Melissa raised an eyebrow. ¡°And then?¡± Julia¡¯s eyes flicked over the next few lines. Her stomach twisted. ¡°Then someone figured out how to take instead of sense.¡± Brenna ran a finger along a passage in her own book. ¡°The first recorded cases of spiritual corruption coincided with experiments in Eldramoric magic. It started with minor drains¡ª stealing energy, shortening lives by months, then years.¡± She swallowed. ¡°And then... worse.¡± Callista, reading her own text, suddenly stiffened. ¡°What?¡± Brandon asked. Wordlessly, she turned the book around and pointed to a section near the bottom of the page. Julia leaned in, reading aloud. ¡°A persistent belief among scholars is that spiritual corruption¡ª specifically the unnatural binding of souls¡ª can lead to long-term distortions in reality. In some cases, locations where such magic was practiced developed lasting abnormalities. In the worst cases, the corruption lingered long after the practitioners were gone, feeding on itself, growing into something that could not be undone by aught but the strongest of magics.¡± The words settled over them like a shroud. Brenna¡¯s voice was quiet. ¡°It sounds like the Curse.¡± Callista nodded slowly. ¡°It does.¡± Annemarie frowned. ¡°Are we saying... the Mirrorwood Curse is alive?¡± ¡°Not alive,¡± Julia murmured. ¡°But... sustained. Someone¡ª maybe a long time ago, maybe now¡ª is feeding it. Keeping it from dying.¡± Brandon tensed. ¡°Soul magic.¡± No one contradicted him. The implications were too large, too horrifying. If the Mirrorwood was feeding on the countless souls trapped within it, then breaking it wouldn¡¯t just be difficult. It might be impossible. Chapter 29 The council chamber was colder than the rest of the palace, the stone walls high and imposing. Iona¡¯s banners were dropped over the far wall like a reminder of who really ruled Milana. And in the center of the room was a long, polished table, lit only by flickering lanterns and the pale gray light that filtered through narrow windows. Callista and the others stood at one end, facing Adela Rummi and Onesta Geurla, who sat in their respective seats of power¡ª though neither seemed particularly comfortable in them. Adela, as always, looked sharp and unreadable, her red robes immaculate, her dark hair pulled into a precise braid. Onesta, older and heavier, wore the weariness of leadership openly, her ink-stained fingers tapping an absent rhythm against the armrest of her chair. Between them, an empty seat sat unclaimed. Evadne Sharmure stood just behind them, her presence quiet but unmistakable, her dark eyes flicking between the rulers as though already predicting their every move. Callista hated her. Julia stepped forward first, setting a carefully copied transcription of their findings onto the table. ¡°We searched the archives.¡± Adela smirked. ¡°So you can read. Congratulations.¡± Julia ignored her. ¡°The records have been altered.¡± Onesta let out a long sigh, rubbing her temple. ¡°Of course they have. It¡¯s politics. What exactly is new about all of this?¡± Callista narrowed her eyes. ¡°The fact that they didn¡¯t just alter the past. They¡¯ve been covering up what¡¯s happening now.¡± That caught their attention. Adela leaned forward slightly. ¡°Go on.¡± Julia glanced at Callista before continuing. ¡°The Mirrorwood isn¡¯t just some unnatural phenomenon. It¡¯s being sustained. The souls trapped by the Curse keep it going, and someone is preventing their escape.¡± Onesta frowned. ¡°Soul magic?¡± Brenna nodded grimly. ¡°Specifically, Eldramoric magic. We don¡¯t know how deep it runs yet, but if our research is right, the Curse isn¡¯t just some lingering remnant of the Cleansing. It¡¯s alive because someone is making sure it gets fed.¡± Silence. Adela sat back in her chair, eyes flickering with interest. ¡°And let me guess. You have absolutely no idea who might be behind it?¡± Callista tensed, feeling Evadne¡¯s gaze settle on her. She knew what the Soul Stealer was waiting for¡ª her to say something, her to throw suspicion in a direction that Evadne could twist to her advantage. She refused. ¡°We don¡¯t know yet,¡± Julia said smoothly, her voice careful. ¡°But we have enough evidence to prove that it wasn¡¯t some act of the Saints. This was deliberate.¡± Onesta exhaled through her nose, folding her arms. ¡°And what, exactly, do you expect us to do about it?¡± Melissa let out a frustrated groan. ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know, help?¡± Adela chuckled. ¡°Help who? You?¡± Callista clenched her fists. ¡°Help Milana. Your own nation, fallen as it is, is dying and you¡¯re treating this like a political game.¡± Adela¡¯s smile didn¡¯t waver. ¡°Because it is a game. And the ones who forget are the ones who get killed first.¡± Onesta scoffed. ¡°Oh, spare me your theatrics, Adela.¡± Adela turned sharply toward her. ¡°Do you even understand what this means? If this is true, if someone really is sustaining the Curse, then they have power. More than you. More than me.¡± ¡°Then we deal with them,¡± Onesta said flatly. Adela barked a laugh. ¡°Oh, yes, let¡¯s deal with them¡ª as if you have any control over this city anymore.¡± Onesta¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°You¡¯re one to talk. You only hold power because you terrify people into submission.¡± ¡°And you hold power because you bore them to death,¡± Adela snapped. The argument spiraled fast. Julia tried to intervene. ¡°This isn¡¯t about¡ª¡± ¡°No, let them go,¡± Callista muttered, arms crossed. ¡°Let¡¯s see how long it takes for them to remember they¡¯re supposed to be in charge.¡± Adela and Onesta were barely listening anymore. Onesta¡¯s voice was sharp. ¡°Do you even care what happens to the people who live here, or are you too busy playing queen of the ashes?¡± Adela¡¯s eyes gleamed. ¡°That¡¯s rich, coming from a woman who hasn¡¯t won a political battle in years.¡± The council chamber grew colder, and Callista knew, with sinking certainty, that their chances of getting anything useful from this conversation were slipping away. And then¡ª a soft, almost pleasant voice cut through the tension like a knife through silk. ¡°Perhaps,¡± Evadne said, her voice measured, smooth, carefully calculated, ¡°it is unwise to make decisions in such a heated atmosphere.¡± The room went silent. Callista turned toward her slowly, watching as Evadne gave them all a placid smile. As if she had merely been observing, waiting. Adela¡¯s lip curled. ¡°You have something to add?¡± Evadne folded her hands. ¡°Only that cooperation is difficult when there is so much distrust.¡± She tilted her head slightly. ¡°If neither of you can be certain of the other¡¯s intentions, how can you possibly move forward?¡± Callista felt her blood go cold. It was subtle¡ª so subtle¡ª but she saw it. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Evadne wasn¡¯t trying to unite them. She was keeping them apart. Adela scoffed. ¡°She has a point.¡± Onesta scowled. ¡°So what? We do nothing? Just let this fester?¡± Evadne smiled softly. ¡°Not nothing. But caution is wise. Perhaps we should seek further clarity before any rash decisions are made.¡± Callista¡¯s hands curled into fists. She was so close. Evadne was so close to revealing what she really wanted. Julia, beside her, took a slow breath. She had seen it, too. Onesta exhaled heavily. ¡°Fine. But we¡¯re not ignoring this. If there really is someone behind the Curse, we need to find out who.¡± Adela smirked. ¡°By all means. Enjoy your search.¡± The conversation was over. Callista clenched her jaw, watching as Evadne stepped back into the shadows of the room, her expression unreadable. She had won this round. But the game wasn¡¯t over, yet. Julia had always been good at recognizing when someone was lying to her. It wasn¡¯t just about words¡ª it was in the pauses, the deliberate choice of phrasing, the way people weighed what they were saying before they said it. And Evadne Sharmure? She weighed everything. They left the council chamber with little more than a vague promise from Onesta and a smirk from Adela, and by the time they returned to the suite, Julia was pacing. ¡°She knows too much,¡± she muttered, mostly to herself. Melissa, flopping onto one of the chairs, groaned. ¡°Oh my God, obviously. We¡¯ve been saying that from the start.¡± Julia shot her a sharp look. ¡°No. I don¡¯t just mean in general¡ª I mean specifically about the Curse.¡± Brandon, still standing near the door, frowned. ¡°She said she had contacts.¡± Julia shook her head. ¡°No, it¡¯s more than that. She isn¡¯t just advising Adela and Onesta. She¡¯s steering them. And did you notice how she never actually gave us any real answers? She lets us reach conclusions just close enough to the truth, but not all the way.¡± Callista, sitting by the fireplace, exhaled through her nose. ¡°She plays the long game.¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± Julia said, snapping her fingers. ¡°She knew things about the Curse long before we came to her. Maybe even before she assumed her position.¡± Brandon crossed his arms. ¡°So what¡¯s the theory? She¡¯s behind all of it?¡± ¡°No,¡± Julia said slowly, ¡°but I think she knows who is.¡± Silence settled over the room. It was an impossible thought but the more Julia turned it over in her head, the more it fit. Brenna rubbed her temples. ¡°And yet, we¡¯re still supposed to be working with her.¡± Callista¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°For now.¡± Annemarie sighed. ¡°Great. So we¡¯re just... pretending we don¡¯t suspect anything?¡± Julia nodded. ¡°Until we know more? Yes.¡± Melissa groaned. ¡°I hate politics.¡± Brandon had no argument for that. That night, long after the others had retired to their rooms, Brandon found himself unable to sleep. Something about Evadne¡¯s presence in Swynden unsettled him. She was too careful, too measured. Even when she smiled, it never quite felt real. And she had known his name. Without thinking, he found himself walking the corridors of the palace, moving without purpose¡ª until he heard voices. He stilled immediately, pressing himself against the cold stone wall. The voices were coming from a side corridor, one of the older sections of the palace where few people walked this late at night. He recognized the first voice immediately¡ª Evadne. But the second? Deep. Low. Smooth as velvet, but carrying something dangerous below the surface. Brandon¡¯s stomach turned. Carefully, he moved closer, stopping just at the edge of the archway. He couldn¡¯t see them, not fully, but in the dim torchlight, he could make out two shadowed figures standing near a column¡ª one unmistakably Evadne, the other cloaked in darkness. He held his breath and listened. ¡°Their presence here complicates things.¡± Evadne¡¯s voice. Calm, composed. The second figure¡ª male, taller than her¡ª let out a slow exhale. ¡°Let them dig. When the truth is unbearable, we will be waiting.¡± Brandon¡¯s fingers curled into a fist. ¡°Onesta¡¯s paranoia grows¡ª soon, she will turn to us.¡± A pause. Then Evadne spoke again¡ª softer this time, but Brandon caught the words nonetheless. ¡°It is almost time.¡± Something cold curled in his stomach. The second figure shifted slightly, just enough for Brandon to see the edge of his face¡ª a sharp cheekbone, the glint of a pale eye in the darkness. Then, as if sensing he had an audience, the man turned his head ever so slightly. Brandon¡¯s heart stopped. He didn¡¯t know how, but in that instant, he was certain the man had seen him. He took a slow, careful step back. The conversation had ended. And by the time he gathered the nerve to move forward, the corridor was empty. One thing was certain¡ª Evadne wasn¡¯t acting alone. And whoever that man was? He was waiting for them to fail. The room was quiet, save for the slow crackling of the embers in the fireplace. Moonlight filtered through the heavy curtains, casting pale silver streaks across the floor. Annemarie lay curled beneath the blankets, her breathing slow and steady, her hair fanned out against the pillow in dark curls. Brandon slipped inside as quietly as he could, shutting the door with careful precision. He hesitated for only a moment before moving toward the bed, his muscles still tense from what he had just heard, what he had seen. The moment he slid beneath the covers, warmth enveloped him. Annemarie. Without thinking, he curled around her, pressing himself against the familiar curve of her back. His arm draped over her waist, and he breathed in deeply, letting the scent of her lull his pulse into something calmer. God, she smelled the same. She always had¡ª something sweet, something warm, something that had intoxicated him for years. She stirred, shifting slightly against him. A soft, sleepy sigh escaped her lips as she pressed back into his embrace. ¡°Mmm.¡± For a moment, he thought she had drifted off again. Then¡ª ¡°Where¡¯d you go?¡± Her voice was drowsy, thick with sleep. She barely opened her eyes, but her fingers found his hand underneath the blankets, lacing with his. Brandon exhaled slowly. He should tell her tomorrow. Should let her sleep, should let himself rest. But he could never keep anything from her for long. ¡°I heard something,¡± he murmured, his lips brushing the bare skin of her shoulder. ¡°Evadne. She was meeting with someone.¡± That woke her up a little more. She shifted again, rolling onto her back just enough to see his face. ¡°Who?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± His grip on her tightened slightly. ¡°Tall. Pale. I didn¡¯t get a good look at him, but he knew I was there.¡± Annemarie frowned, blinking sleep from her eyes. ¡°What were they talking about?:¡± Brandon¡¯s jaw tensed. ¡°Us.¡± That got her full attention. She sat up slightly, turning toward him, their fingers still intertwined beneath the blankets. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Brandon¡¯s mind replayed the conversation, each word etched into his skull. Let them dig. When the truth is unbearable, we will be waiting. He swallowed. ¡°They¡¯re watching us. And Onesta¡ª Evadne thinks she¡¯ll break soon. That she¡¯ll turn to them.¡± Annemarie was silent for a long moment. Then, softly¡ª ¡°We need to tell the others.¡± ¡°I know.¡± Brandon reached up, brushing a stray curl from her face. He could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the weight of everything pressing down on her just as it pressed down on him. But even now, even knowing what was coming, she was here. With him. Annemarie sighed, leaning into his touch. ¡°Tomorrow,¡± she murmured. ¡°Tomorrow,¡± he agreed. She settled back down, but not before pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone. Brandon pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair, letting the warmth of her body ground him. For tonight, at least, they were safe. They wouldn¡¯t be for long. Chapter 30 The morning air in Swynden was damp and gray, the city restless beneath the weight of unspoken tensions. Brandon and Annemarie wasted no time. As soon as the group gathered in Callista¡¯s sitting room, they relayed everything Brandon had heard the night before¡ª Evadne, the shadowed figure, the whispered conspiracies about the truth. Julia, predictably, looked grim but unsurprised. ¡°So we were right,¡± she muttered. ¡°Evadne isn¡¯t just playing politics¡ª she¡¯s maneuvering people.¡± Brenna leaned back in her chair, frowning. ¡°And this mystery man¡ª he¡¯s got to be someone important if she¡¯s taking orders from him.¡± Callista exhaled sharply. ¡°We need to confront this. Now.¡± Brandon stiffened. ¡°Confront who?¡± ¡°Onesta and Adela.¡± Melissa made a strangled sound. ¡°Oh, fantastic. My favorite people.¡± But Callista was already standing, pacing the room as she thought. ¡°They don¡¯t trust me. They don¡¯t like me. And they sure as hell don¡¯t owe me anything.¡± Her fingers curled into fists. ¡°But what they do care about is control.¡± Julia caught on quickly. ¡°And the Mirrorwood is uncontrollable.¡± ¡°Exactly.¡± Callista turned back to the group. ¡°We don¡¯t go in begging for their help. We remind them that the Curse is their problem, too. And that Evadne and her... associate aren¡¯t just whispering behind their backs. They¡¯re undermining them.¡± Brandon hesitated. ¡°And what if they don¡¯t believe us?¡± ¡°They won¡¯t,¡± Callista said flatly. ¡°Not at first.¡± Brenna nodded. ¡°But if we get them thinking...¡± ¡°That¡¯s all we need.¡± There was a moment of silence, then Melissa groaned, throwing her head back. ¡°God, I hate politics.¡± Callista smirked. ¡°Then let¡¯s make this hurt.¡± The council chamber was colder than it had been the day before. Callista wasn¡¯t sure if it was the overcast sky or the simple weight of the conversation to come, but the atmosphere was stifling. Adela and Onesta sat in their respective chairs, their usual expressions of disdain firmly in place. Callista stood in the center of the chamber, her companions behind her. She didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°I know you don¡¯t like me,¡± she said, her voice steady. ¡°I know you don¡¯t trust me. I know I¡¯m a complication at best and a security problem at worst. And I know there is a very real chance that you¡ª¡± her gaze flicked between them, ¡°¡ªordered the deaths of my family.¡± Adela¡¯s eyebrows lifted, but Onesta did not react. Callista didn¡¯t blink. ¡°I don¡¯t care. Not now.¡± That got their attention. Julia shifted slightly behind her, and Brandon¡¯s hand curled into a fist at his side. ¡°This isn¡¯t about the past,¡± Callista continued. ¡°It¡¯s about right now. You have a problem. Two, actually: The Mirrorwood Curse and Evadne Sharmure.¡± Onesta finally let out a sigh. ¡°I hope you¡¯re not suggesting that the two are connected.¡± ¡°We¡¯re not suggesting,¡± Julia said. ¡°We know.¡± Brandon stepped forward, his jaw set. ¡°I heard Evadne last night. She wasn¡¯t alone. She was speaking with a man, someone she clearly answers to. And he said something very specific.¡± Adela leaned back in her chair. ¡°Do tell.¡± Brandon¡¯s voice didn¡¯t waver. ¡°He said, ¡®Let them dig. When the truth is unbearable, we will be waiting.¡± That, finally, made Onesta pause. Adela, however, leaned back in her chair¡ª unimpressed. ¡°And you¡¯re certain that¡¯s what you heard?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°You expect us to believe that you just happened to be in the right place at the right time to hear our trusted advisor conspiring in the dark?¡± Brandon¡¯s fists tightened. ¡°I¡¯m not lying.¡± Adela tilted her head. ¡°I think you are.¡± A sharp silence fell over the room. Callista¡¯s fingers twitched. ¡°You don¡¯t even care, do you?¡± Onesta tapped her fingers against the armrest, considering. ¡°It¡¯s not a matter of caring. It¡¯s a matter of proof.¡± ¡°The Mirrorwood is a threat to your rule,¡± Callista snapped. ¡°You can¡¯t control it, and you know it. And now you know that Evadne is keeping secrets. You should be asking why.¡± Onesta exhaled. ¡°We are asking.¡± ¡°But the answers aren¡¯t coming from you,¡± Adela added. Her gaze flicked toward Brandon. ¡°They¡¯re coming from him.¡± Brandon¡¯s shoulders tensed, but he didn¡¯t back down. ¡°Your story,¡± Adela continued, ¡°is convenient. Suspiciously so.¡± She looked to Onesta. ¡°I don¡¯t like it.¡± Onesta nodded slowly. ¡°Neither do I.¡± Callista¡¯s blood ran cold. It was never a good thing when the rulers of Swynden agreed on something. Onesta turned her gaze to Brandon. ¡°I will not take action against you.¡± Brandon exhaled slightly¡ª ¡°Yet.¡± Callista stepped forward immediately. ¡°He¡¯s telling the truth.¡± Onesta¡¯s eyes were unreadable. ¡°If he¡¯s lying, we will punish him accordingly.¡± ¡°And since you insist on vouching for him,¡± Adela added, smiling coldly, ¡°that punishment will extend to you as well.¡± Callista¡¯s breath stilled. Behind her, she felt Annemarie tense, felt the shift in Brandon¡¯s stance. She forced herself to keep her expression blank. They were daring her to back down. She smiled instead. ¡°Then I guess we¡¯d better make sure you see the truth before you get us killed.¡± Adela¡¯s smirk widened. ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡± Onesta exhaled through her nose and stood. ¡°You have had your audience. We will discuss this matter privately.¡± It was a dismissal. Callista turned on her heel and walked out without another word, the others following closely behind. The moment the doors shut behind them, she exhaled sharply. ¡°Well,¡± Melissa muttered. ¡°That went great.¡± Brandon clenched his fists. ¡°They think I¡¯m lying.¡± Callista¡¯s eyes darkened. ¡°Then we make sure they can¡¯t ignore us.¡± Julia nodded. ¡°We find proof. Real proof.¡± Brandon exhaled slowly, his hands still shaking with frustration. Annemarie laced her fingers with his, grounding him. Callista turned back to them, her jaw set. ¡°We¡¯re running out of time.¡± This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The Mirrorwood was growing. And if they didn¡¯t act soon, there wouldn¡¯t be a Milana left to save. If anything, the halls of the palace felt even more forbidding after their meeting with Adela and Onesta. The air was thick with the weight of unspoken threats, and the walls themselves seemed to press in, listening. Watching. Brandon didn¡¯t realize how much tension he was carrying until they reached the suite and Annemarie pulled him aside. She didn¡¯t say anything at first. Just reached for his hand, fingers lacing with his, grounding him. Brandon exhaled slowly. ¡°You don¡¯t have to look at me like that.¡± Annemarie arched a brow. ¡°Like what?¡± ¡°Like you¡¯re about to tell me I did something stupid.¡± She sighed, squeezing his hand. ¡°I¡¯m not saying that.¡± He gave her a look. ¡°...Okay, fine, I am saying that. In retrospect. Because I¡¯d have done the same thing, probably.¡± She hesitated, her expression tightening. ¡°Brandon, you need to be careful.¡± His brows furrowed. ¡°You think I don¡¯t know that?¡± ¡°I know you know,¡± she said quietly. ¡°But I also know you. And I know how much you hate being called a liar. You¡¯re going to want to prove yourself, to push back.¡± Brandon¡¯s jaw tensed. ¡°Because they are lying. They know something is wrong, but instead of actually dealing with it, they¡¯re¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªplaying politics,¡± Annemarie finished. ¡°Which is exactly what I¡¯m worried about.¡± She stepped closer, lifting a hand to his face, brushing her thumb against his cheek. ¡°Brandon, this place is dangerous.¡± He almost laughed. ¡°We¡¯ve been running through cursed forests, dodging shadow monsters, and you think this is what¡¯s dangerous?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± she said, without hesitation. ¡°Because the Mirrorwood was honest about what it is. Swynden isn¡¯t.¡± Brandon fell silent at that. Annemarie searched his face, then sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t want you getting wrapped up in this. Not more than you already are.¡± His fingers curled around hers. ¡°You know I can¡¯t just walk away.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not asking you to walk away,¡± she murmured. ¡°I¡¯m asking you to live through this.¡± Brandon swallowed hard. He wasn¡¯t used to Annemarie being scared. But this wasn¡¯t fear, not exactly. It was knowing. She could feel the weight of the Milani court pressing down on them, the way it twisted around them like an unseen noose. Brandon sighed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. ¡°I¡¯ll be careful.¡± She huffed. ¡°You say that¡ª¡± ¡°I mean that,¡± he murmured. Annemarie studied him for a long moment, then exhaled, resting her forehead against his. ¡°Good.¡± She didn¡¯t believe him. But for now, she let it be. Melissa lay sprawled across the bed, one arm lazily draped over Gorgoloth¡¯s massive form as he twitched his mandibles in what she had long since decided was contentment. He had, somehow, managed to look even larger than he had the day before, his furry brown chitin sleek and well-fed. Julia sat in a chair by the window, legs curled beneath her, absentmindedly flipping through a book she wasn¡¯t actually reading. The dim light from the lantern on the nightstand flickered softly against the tapestry-covered walls, wrapping the room in an illusion of warmth. Melissa hummed, rubbing small circles against one of Gorgoloth¡¯s legs. ¡°I think he¡¯s gotten bigger.¡± Julia glanced up, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Melissa, he was already huge.¡± ¡°Yeah, but look at him.¡± Melissa gestured dramatically at the spider, who was indeed lounging like a particularly smug cat. His bright blue ribbons were still tied neatly to his legs. ¡°He¡¯s thriving. He¡¯s feasting on Swynden¡¯s finest rats. We should all be so lucky.¡± Julia let out a small huff of amusement, shaking her head. ¡°I don¡¯t think we have his dietary requirements.¡± Melissa grinned, stretching out across the mattress and letting one leg dangle over the side. ¡°True. But seriously, Gorgoloth¡¯s living his best life. Maybe we should take notes.¡± Julia snorted, but her humor faded as she traced a finger absently along the spine of her book. ¡°Are we?¡± Melissa blinked. ¡°Are we what?¡± ¡°Living our best lives.¡± Melissa was quiet for a moment, gaze flicking to the canopy above the bed. ¡°Huh.¡± Julia¡¯s grip on the book tightened. ¡°Because I keep thinking about everything that brought us here. About Callista, about the Mirrorwood, Evadne, about everything¡ª and I don¡¯t even know how to feel anymore.¡± Melissa considered this, running her fingers along Gorgoloth¡¯s carapace. ¡°It¡¯s... a lot,¡± she admitted. ¡°But Jules? This¡ª this whole thing?¡± She gestured vaguely at the room, the castle, the world around them. ¡°This is the most alive I¡¯ve ever felt.¡± Julia glanced up, brow furrowed. Melissa shrugged. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s dangerous. Yeah, it¡¯s terrifying. But back on Earth?¡± She let out a sharp breath. ¡°I was just waiting for something to happen. Just existing, going through the motions, pretending that was enough. But this? This is real. We¡¯re doing something that matters.¡± She turned her head toward Julia, smirking faintly. ¡°So... thanks. For letting me come.¡± Julia exhaled softly, looking down at the book in her hands. ¡°Even after everything?¡± Melissa chuckled. ¡°Especially after everything.¡± Julia¡¯s lips twitched, but her expression remained troubled. ¡°I haven¡¯t even had time to look for my father,¡± she admitted. ¡°Not really. Everything¡¯s been Annemarie, or the Mirrorwood, or¡ª¡± She gestured vaguely. ¡°Politics. I thought this would be simple. Step through the portal, find answers. But I haven¡¯t even figured out where to start.¡± Melissa was quiet for a beat, then nudged Gorgoloth affectionately before sitting up. ¡°Then we finish this. We deal with the Mirrorwood, we figure out what the hell Evadne is up to, and then?¡± She met Julia¡¯s gaze. ¡°We go back to Atriane. We talk to Kiernen. And we find your dad.¡± Julia¡¯s throat tightened. ¡°You mean that?¡± Melissa scoffed. ¡°Obviously. I didn¡¯t jump through a magic portal just to leave my best friend hanging.¡± Julia let out a small, tired laugh, shaking her head. ¡°God, you¡¯re ridiculous.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Melissa agreed. ¡°But you love me for it.¡± Julia sighed, closing her book and setting it aside. ¡°Yeah,¡± she admitted. ¡°I do.¡± Melissa beamed, then flopped dramatically back onto the bed. ¡°Good. Now, let¡¯s get some sleep before Callista decides we need to challenge Evadne to a duel at dawn or something.¡± Julia groaned. ¡°Please don¡¯t manifest that into reality.¡± Gorgoloth, clearly having absorbed enough of the conversation, let out a soft click, then settled further into the bed. His ribbons fluttered slightly as he curled his legs beneath him. And for a few quiet hours, in the heart of a city drowning in shadows, they rested. The tea had gone cold. Callista sat stiff-backed in her chair, legs crossed, hands wrapped around the delicate porcelain cup. Across from her, Brenna slouched comfortably in a chair far too fine for someone like her, fingers tapping idly against the wooden stem of her pipe. It was the first time the two of them had been alone together. And it was awkward as hell. A stoner hedge witch and a lost duchess walk into a bar and try to have a conversation. It was the beginning of a bad joke. Brenna exhaled slowly, glancing at the untouched tea. ¡°Not a fan?¡± Callista blinked, as if just remembering it was there. ¡°It is fine.¡± ¡°Liar.¡± Callista huffed, setting the cup down with precise movements. ¡°It is not fine. It is too sweet.¡± Brenna smirked, stretching lazily. ¡°Should¡¯ve told me. I could¡¯ve asked for something more... I dunno, noble?¡± Callista rolled her eyes, but there was no bite to it. A moment of silence passed. Brenna chewed the inside of her cheek. ¡°Y¡¯know,¡± she said, voice light but deliberate. ¡°I usually take something stronger than tea when I need to unwind.¡± Callista arched a brow. ¡°Do you?¡± Brenna grinned, twirling her pipe between her fingers and proffering it. ¡°Interested?¡± For a moment, Callista hesitated¡ª then, to Brenna¡¯s surprise, she reached out and plucked the pipe from her hand without a word. Brenna blinked. ¡°Huh.¡± Callista turned the pipe over in her fingers, as if assessing it for hidden traps. ¡°Is it going to kill me?¡± ¡°Not today.¡± Callista exhaled sharply, then took a slow, measured inhale. The familiar, heady scent of burning herbs filled the air. It was lighter than she expected¡ª earthy, warm, something that curled gently in the back of her throat instead of burning its way down. She let the smoke settle in her lungs before exhaling, watching the wisps curl toward the ceiling. Brenna raised an eyebrow. ¡°Well?¡± Callista set the pipe down, tilting her head slightly. A pleasant fuzziness was beginning to make itself known. ¡°I can see the appeal.¡± Brenna grinned, reclaiming it for herself. ¡°Good girl.¡± ¡°You are a bad influence, Brenna Siulin.¡± ¡°I can be worse.¡± Callista shot her a look, but there was no venom in it. The silence that followed was... easier. Callista leaned back into her chair, eyes half-lidded, exhaling slowly. ¡°It¡¯s been two years.¡± Brenna glanced up. ¡°Since?¡± Callista didn¡¯t answer immediately. She reached for her tea out of habit, took a sip, and grimaced. Cold. And still too sweet. Then, softly¡ª ¡°Since my family was slaughtered.¡± The words hung in the air, heavier than the smoke. Brenna¡¯s fingers tightened around the pipe. Callista hadn¡¯t said it before. Not like that. Not in those words. Her expression didn¡¯t change, but her voice¡ª her voice was quieter than Brenna had ever heard it. ¡°And I have not grieved,¡± Callista murmured, staring into the middle distance. ¡°Not really.¡± Brenna shifted slightly, setting her pipe down on the table between them. ¡°You were surviving.¡± Callista let out a dry, humorless laugh. ¡°And if I stop surviving? If I stop moving?¡± She scoffed. ¡°What then?¡± Brenna hesitated. She wasn¡¯t good at this¡ª wasn¡¯t used to this. She knew how to crack jokes, how to lighten a mood, how to pretend things weren¡¯t as bad as they were. But Callista wasn¡¯t looking for a joke. She was staring at the table like it held the weight of everything she had lost, like if she let go for even a second, it would all come crashing down. So Brenna did the only thing she could do. She reached across the table and covered Callista¡¯s hand with her own. The duchess stiffened slightly, her fingers twitching as if unsure whether to pull away. But she didn¡¯t. Brenna squeezed gently. ¡°Then we pick you back up.¡± Callista swallowed. Her throat felt tight, her eyes burning¡ª not enough for tears, never enough to tears, but something close. ¡°We¡¯ll take it back,¡± Brenna murmured. ¡°Byfox. All of it. And we¡¯ll make them pay for what they did.¡± Callista inhaled, slow and shaking. Then she nodded, fingers tightening over Brenna¡¯s. Smoke curled through the air, mingling with silence. And for the first time in two years, Callista let herself breathe. Chapter 31 The tension in Callita¡¯s sitting room was thick, wrapping around them like the city¡¯s ever-present mist. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering golden light over the heavy curtains, the polished wooden furniture, and the map of Milana sprawled across the table between them. No one was looking at the map. All eyes were fixed on Callista. ¡°We need proof,¡± she said, voice low and certain. ¡°If we lack something undeniable, Adela and Onesta will keep dismissing us. And if we push too hard without it¡ª¡± Brenna exhaled sharply. ¡°They¡¯ll do more than just dismiss us.¡± ¡°They¡¯ll bury us,¡± Julia muttered. Callista nodded grimly. ¡°Which means we need to be smarter than them. If we are right about Evadne¡ª if she is the one feeding this conspiracy¡ª then we have to catch her in the act.¡± Melissa leaned back in her chair, arms crossed behind her head. ¡°And how do you suggest we do that? Ask her nicely if she¡¯s scheming behind their backs? Maybe get her to monologue a little?¡± Brandon shot her a flat look. ¡°I hate that you say things like that as a joke when they actually happen.¡± Melissa grinned. ¡°What can I say? People love a dramatic reveal.¡± Annemarie, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke. ¡°We need to know the identity of the man she was meeting with. If she¡¯s taking orders from someone, that¡¯s our way in.¡± Julia nodded. ¡°Which means we need two things: evidence of Evadne¡¯s betrayal, and the identity of her contact.¡± Melissa scoffed. ¡°Great. Just the two hardest things possible to get our hands on. Love that for us.¡± Callista ignored her. ¡°Which is why we are going to do something very stupid.¡± Melissa grinned. ¡°Now that I love.¡± Brandon exhaled heavily. ¡°I¡¯m already regretting this.¡± Callista tapped a finger against the table. ¡°We need to divide and conquer. Annemarie, Brandon, and I will meet with Evadne here. She will expect that. We will keep her occupied.¡± Julia¡¯s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ¡°Which gives Melissa time to break into her quarters.¡± Melissa sat up, clearly delighted. ¡°Oh, this is going to be fun.¡± Brandon frowned. ¡°You realize if you¡¯re caught, she won¡¯t just politely ask you to leave.¡± Melissa shrugged. ¡°I dunno, she might. I think I could charm her.¡± Brenna snorted. ¡°You have five minutes of charm before you start getting political.¡± ¡°Five minutes is plenty of time.¡± Julia sighed, but there was a small smile on her lips. ¡°I¡¯ll stand guard. If we hear anything, we¡¯ll get you out.¡± Brenna nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll be there, too. I¡¯ve got a few tricks up my sleeve if we need a distraction.¡± Callista leaned forward. ¡°Evadne is careful. If she is hiding something important, she will not keep it in plain sight. Look for locked drawers, hidden compartments¡ª anything that seems out of place.¡± Melissa mock-saluted. ¡°You¡¯ve got it, boss.¡± Brandon ran a hand down his face. ¡°This is a terrible plan.¡± Callista arched a brow. ¡°Do you have a better one?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Then let us get to work.¡± A final, weighted silence settled over the room. The plan was risky¡ª reckless, even¡ª but they had no choice. They stood, moving with the tense efficiency of people preparing for battle. And as they did, Gorgoloth let out a quiet, satisfied click, shifting on his many legs as if he knew things were about to get interesting. Evadne Sharmure did not look like a woman who was used to being summoned. But when she arrived in Callista¡¯s sitting room, she was the picture of composure¡ª tall, graceful, and wearing the faintest trace of a smirk, as though amused that they had called upon her at all. ¡°Summoning me?¡± she murmured, stepping inside and glancing between them. ¡°I must admit, I¡¯m pleasantly surprised.¡± Callista sat in the high-backed chair near the window, legs crossed, chin lifted¡ª every inch the noblewoman she had been raised to be. Brandon stood stiffly beside her, arms crossed, his expression carefully neutral. Annemarie, however, played her part perfectly¡ª standing near the tea tray, hands folded loosely, projecting an air of casual curiosity rather than suspicion. Evadne¡¯s eyes flicked toward Callista. ¡°And to what do I owe the pleasure?¡± It was Annemarie who answered. ¡°Curiosity, mostly.¡± She turned, offering Evadne a small, sheepish smile. ¡°I know you know who we are¡ª at least, who I am. But I figured we should just put it all out there.¡± Evadne arched a brow, intrigued. ¡°Go on.¡± Annemarie poured herself a cup of tea, deliberately casual. ¡°I¡¯m not from here.¡± Evadne chuckled. ¡°Yes, I gathered.¡± ¡°I mean, really not from here.¡± She gestured vaguely between herself and Brandon. ¡°We¡¯re from another world. Earth.¡± Evadne tilted her head, assessing her carefully. Annemarie took a slow sip of tea before continuing. ¡°You¡¯ve probably figured that out already, though. And you definitely know Cal¡ª Lady Byfox¡¯s situation is... complicated.¡± She shot the duchess a small, wry smile, as if they were barely acquaintances forced into the same room. Callista played along, offering nothing but a cool, indifferent nod. Annemarie set her tea down, adopting a slightly sheepish expression. ¡°So, I¡¯m trying to learn more about this world. And I heard that you¡¯re something called a¡ª what was it? A Soul Stealer.¡± Evadne¡¯s smirk didn¡¯t falter, but her eyes flickered with amusement. ¡°Is that so?¡± Annemarie nodded, still playing her part. ¡°Yeah. And honestly? I¡¯m curious. I mean, we have no magic where I come from, so all of this is completely new to me.¡± She gestured vaguely. ¡°What is Eldramoria, really?¡± Evadne¡¯s gaze flicked toward Callista. ¡°You needn¡¯t ask me. Your companion can certainly answer that.¡± Callista barely looked at her. ¡°We are not companions.¡± Evadne¡¯s smile widened. Annemarie sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. ¡°We don¡¯t really get along,¡± she admitted, glancing toward Callista with a look of mild exasperation. ¡°We¡¯ve just... been thrown into this Mirrorwood mess together.¡± Callista exhaled sharply, as if barely tolerating the conversation. ¡°Unfortunately.¡± Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Evadne let out a low hum of interest. ¡°How fascinating.¡± Annemarie gave her a slightly conspiratorial smile, leaning in. ¡°So? Are the rumors true? About Soul Stealers?¡± Evadne chuckled. ¡°There are many rumors, I assure you.¡± Brandon, who had remained silent up to this point, suddenly felt her gaze flick toward him. ¡°And what of you?¡± she mused, her voice light, almost playful. ¡°You¡¯ve been so quiet, Brandon.¡± His jaw clenched. Evadne¡¯s smile sharpened. ¡°You weren¡¯t quite so silent yesterday.¡± Annemarie huffed, waving a hand dismissively. ¡°Oh, that?¡± She let out a small, forced laugh. ¡°Look, you have to understand¡ª when you come from literally another world, you get a little... paranoid.¡± She shook her head, sighing. ¡°We¡¯ve all been on edge, jumping at shadows. Sometimes we think we hear things, see things that aren¡¯t really there.¡± Evadne¡¯s smirk didn¡¯t waver, but there was a flicker of something colder beneath it. Annemarie shrugged. ¡°But mistakes are mistakes. And we can all move on, right?¡± For a long moment, Evadne said nothing. Then¡ª ¡°Of course.¡± Brandon inhaled slowly, keeping his expression neutral. Evadne turned her attention back to Annemarie. ¡°Eldramoria,¡± she mused, as if considering where to begin. ¡°It is... a gift. A curse, some would say, though I do not consider it such.¡± She folded her hands in her lap, her expression serene. ¡°Soul Stealers are attuned to life itself Some of us sense presence¡ª the weight of other people¡¯s existence, the way a room feels when it is occupied versus when it is empty. Others sense emotion¡ª fear, joy, anger, despair. Some can manipulate those emotions, shifting them ever so slightly.¡± Her gaze flicked toward Callista, just for a second, before she continued. ¡°And then, of course...¡± Evadne smiled faintly. ¡°There are those of us who can do more.¡± Annemarie tilted her head. ¡°More?¡± Evadne¡¯s fingers tapped lightly against the porcelain of her teacup. ¡°You¡¯ve heard the term Soul Stealer, yes?¡± Annemarie nodded slowly. Evadne¡¯s smile was unreadable. ¡°It is not entirely wrong.¡± Silence. Callista shifted slightly in her seat, the movement small, deliberate. ¡°You mean to tell us,¡± she said, her tone cool and indifferent, ¡°that some of your kind can actually steal souls?¡± Evadne chuckled softly. ¡°Not quite so dramatically, no.¡± She lifted her cup, taking a slow sip before setting it down again. ¡°But there are... ways to pull from others. To take just a little¡ª a fragment of life, a whisper of strength. Brandon¡¯s hands curled into fists. Evadne glanced at him again, her amusement not entirely hidden. ¡°Does that frighten you?¡± Brandon said nothing. Annemarie leaned forward slightly, keeping her expression carefully neutral. ¡°That¡¯s... fascinating.¡± Evadne¡¯s lips curved. ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡± Annemarie let out a short, breathy laugh. ¡°You must be very popular in court.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Evadne murmured, her smirk widening. ¡°You have no idea.¡± Callista exhaled, her gaze shifting toward the window, as if already bored of the conversation. ¡°Is that all?¡± Evadne studied her for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle. ¡°I suppose it is.¡± She rose smoothly from her seat. ¡°It has been a pleasure, truly. I do hope we continue these little... chats.¡± Brandon didn¡¯t move, didn¡¯t breathe, until she reached the door. Annemarie gave her an easy smile. ¡°Absolutely.¡± Callista didn¡¯t bother standing. The moment Evadne was gone, the door clicking shut behind her, the three of them sat in silence, waiting until her footsteps faded completely. Then¡ª Brandon exhaled sharply, tension coiling out of his body. ¡°That was¡ª¡± ¡°Too easy,¡± Callista muttered. Annemarie exhaled. ¡°She knows we¡¯re playing her.¡± Callista¡¯s eyes darkened. ¡°And she is definitely playing us back.¡± Melissa was good at breaking into places. It was a skill she had picked up long before she ever set foot in Aleria¡ª sneaking out of her house as a teenager, slipping into bars she wasn¡¯t old enough for, testing doors just to see if they were locked. Evadne¡¯s quarters were definitely locked. Unfortunately for her, Melissa had never met a lock she couldn¡¯t pick. Outside, Gorgoloth was doing his part, scuttling through the halls like the world¡¯s most horrifying court jester, ribbons fluttering as he clicked his mandibles loudly enough to draw the attention of the posted guards. A giant spider? In the palace? Unthinkable. Melissa smirked to herself as she pressed her ear to the door, listening as the heavy footsteps of the guards faded down the corridor. Perfect. She slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind her, and immediately took in the space. Evadne¡¯s rooms were exactly as she had expected¡ª dark, elegant, deliberate. Every piece of furniture had been chosen with precision, the bookshelves stacked with carefully curated tomes, the writing desk immaculate except for a single, neatly arranged stack of correspondence. Melissa moved quickly. She had minutes at best. She sifted through the papers first, flipping through the letters with practiced efficiency. Her eyes skimmed the signatures¡ª most were meaningless, just the usual palace dealings. But one¡ª Lord K She frowned, flipping to another page. Lord K again, the handwriting sharp and controlled, the words calculated. Whoever this was, they were important. And Evadne had been receiving a lot of letters from them. Melissa¡¯s stomach twisted as she spotted another mark at the bottom of a missive¡ª a sigil she didn¡¯t recognize, but one that felt wrong. She shoved it in her coat. They could analyze it later. Her search led her to the far wall, where she noticed something odd. The bookshelves. They were too even, too perfectly arranged. Melissa pressed a hand against the wood, feeling for any hidden catches and¡ª click. The section of the wall shifted. Melissa¡¯s breath hitched as she pushed it open, revealing a narrow, hidden passageway leading into another chamber. She stepped inside cautiously, eyes adjusting to the dim candlelight. A bed. An ornate vanity. A bloodred dress draped over the back of a chair. Melissa¡¯s blood ran cold. That was Adela Rummi¡¯s dress. This wasn¡¯t just any bedchamber. Holy shit. Melissa didn¡¯t waste time. She turned, slipping back through the passageway and closing it behind her as quietly as possible. She had everything she needed. Evidence. Real evidence. She was about to leave when she heard it¡ª voices. Outside the door. And then, a muffled noise. Melissa stilled. Something was wrong. She tightened her grip on her dagger, adjusted her stance, and moved toward the door. One breath. Two. Then, she shoved it open. And the scene before her made her stomach plummet. Brenna was frozen, her body rigid and unblinking, her eyes wide with magic-fueled paralysis. Julia was being held at knifepoint. A man¡ª tall, dressed in dark clothes, his hood pulled low¡ª had her pinned against the stone wall, the blade pressed dangerously against her throat. ¡°It¡¯s such a shame,¡± the man was murmuring, his voice smooth and taunting. ¡°You came all this way, and you still can¡¯t come to terms with it.¡± He tilted his head, his knife pressing just a little harder. A bead of blood ran down Julia¡¯s throat. ¡°Your father died for nothing, little girl. And now you¡ª¡± Melissa didn¡¯t give him time to finish. She lunged, and the dagger slammed into his back, slipping between his ribs. The man let out a choked sound, his grip loosening. Brenna gasped, the magic locking her in place suddenly breaking¡ª And then the man collapsed. For a long moment, there was only silence. The weight of it pressed down on them, thick and suffocating, as the man¡¯s body crumpled to the floor. The dim torchlight flickered against the dark stain spreading beneath him, the metallic scent of blood curling into the air. And then¡ª ¡°What the fuck, Melissa?¡± Melissa barely had time to react before Julia shoved her, hard enough to make her stumble back a step. She blinked, still catching her breath. ¡°...what?¡± Julia¡¯s eyes blazed, her voice sharp with anger and something dangerously close to grief. ¡°He could have told me something! About my father! About everything! And you just¡ª¡± She gestured wildly at the body between them. ¡°¡ªkilled him?¡± Melissa opened her mouth, then closed it, struggling for words she didn¡¯t have. Brenna, still shaking off the last remnants of paralysis, groaned from where she was bracing herself against the wall. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s maybe save the screaming until we¡¯re not standing over a corpse in the middle of the hallway.¡± Julia¡¯s glare snapped toward her, but she was too furious, too heartbroken, to argue. Her hands curled into fists at her sides before she whirled on her heel, storming off down the corridor without another word. Her footsteps echoed against the stone, each one heavy with rage. Melissa exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair. ¡°I... I should probably go after her.¡± Brenna, still unsteady but recovering, shook her head. ¡°She¡¯ll need time.¡± She nudged the dead man¡¯s boot with her own. ¡°We need to take care of this.¡± Melissa sighed, crouching beside the body. The man¡¯s hood had slipped back, revealing dark hair, sharp features, and an expression frozen in something between shock and pain. His blood was already pooling, seeping into the cracks of the stone floor. She muttered a curse under her breath, wiped her dagger clean on his cloak, and then¡ª without ceremony¡ª hauled him up and over her shoulder with a grunt. ¡°Shall we make a scene?¡± she asked dryly. Brenna arched a brow, still catching her breath. ¡°I think we already did.¡± Melissa smirked. ¡°Then let¡¯s make it worthwhile.¡± Chapter 32 Melissa shoved the door open with her shoulder, dragging the corpse behind her. Brandon, who had been leaning against the fireplace, tensed immediately, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword. Annemarie nearly knocked over a cup of tea as she jerked back, eyes going wide. Callista, seated calmly at the desk, didn¡¯t so much as blink, though a sharp glance flickered in Melissa¡¯s direction. The body hit the floor with a dull thud. Melissa straightened, rolling her shoulders as she let out a breath. ¡°Well. That happened.¡± A beat of silence. Then Brenna, arms crossed and slightly breathless, let out a low groan and leaned against the wall. ¡°Could¡¯ve gone worse.¡± Brandon let out a short, incredulous laugh, lowering his hand but not relaxing. ¡°Could¡¯ve gone better,¡± he shot back. ¡°What the hell happened?¡± Melissa wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. ¡°Long story short? Broke into Evadne¡¯s room. Found some very interesting things, including a lovely little passage leading directly into Adela Rummi¡¯s bedchamber¡ª¡± Callista¡¯s brow twitched at that. Melissa continued, unbothered. ¡°Then, when I came back, Julia and Brenna were not okay. This asshole¡ª¡± she nudged the body with the toe of her boot ¡°¡ªhad Julia at knifepoint. And he was saying some really creepy shit about her dad.¡± Annemarie sucked in a breath. Callista leaned slightly forward. ¡°And Julia?¡± Melissa hesitated, then sighed. ¡°Mad at me. I, uh... may have stabbed him before he could finish his monologue.¡± Silence. Then Annemarie pinched the bridge of her nose. ¡°Melissa.¡± ¡°Oh, come on.¡± Melissa threw up her hands. ¡°He was threatening her! Did you want me to wait for him to slit her throat?¡± ¡°No,¡± Callista said smoothly, standing from her chair and stepping toward the body. ¡°But now we have a problem.¡± Brandon exhaled sharply. ¡°And even more questions.¡± Brenna ran a hand through her hair. ¡°Julia stormed off. She needed time to cool down.¡± Melissa sighed, dropping into a chair and rubbing her temples. ¡°Yeah. And now we have to deal with this.¡± Callista crouched beside the body, her expression unreadable. ¡°Did he say anything else?¡± Melissa hesitated, then shrugged. ¡°Just that we ¡®don¡¯t know the truth¡¯. And that Julia¡¯s dad ¡®died for nothing¡¯.¡± Something flickered across Callista¡¯s face¡ª too fast to name, too cold to read. But her fingers tightened against her sleeve. ¡°Interesting.¡± Brandon crossed his arms. ¡°Okay. So now we¡¯ve committed murder in the middle of the palace.¡± His voice was dry but edged with something sharper. ¡°What the hell are we supposed to do now?¡± Callista rose smoothly to her feet, already calculating. ¡°We get rid of the body.¡± Brenna let out a low whistle. ¡°Wow. No hesitation.¡± Callista met her gaze, unwavering. ¡°We have much bigger concerns than one dead man.¡± Melissa tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling. ¡°Yeah. Like the fact that Evadne¡¯s going to know.¡± ¡°She¡¯ll know soon enough,¡± Callista corrected. ¡°We have a small window before she realizes what happened. We use that.¡± Brandon frowned. ¡°How?¡± Annemarie leaned forward, voice serious. ¡°We can¡¯t go to Onesta and Adela yet. Not without neutralizing Evadne first.¡± Brandon exhaled sharply. ¡°And how do we neutralize her? We don¡¯t even know how powerful she is.¡± Callista¡¯s gaze was like steel. ¡°Then we assume the worst.¡± The words settled over the room like a warning. They didn¡¯t know exactly what Evadne was capable of. But they knew she had embedded herself deep into the court and that she had spent years manipulating Onesta and Adela. They had to assume she was more than just a Soul Stealer. Brandon clenched his jaw. ¡°This is getting worse by the second.¡± Melissa groaned, throwing an arm over her face. ¡°Yeah, well, welcome to every single day since we got here.¡± Callista glanced at the corpse once more, then at the rest of them. ¡°One problem at a time,¡± she murmured. Melissa propped her chin on her hand. ¡°So. How do we deal with Swynden¡¯s favorite manipulative soul witch?¡± Callista turned from the fire, facing the others. ¡°We need to act before Evadne does,¡± she said, her voice steady and controlled. Brandon let out a slow breath, rubbing his temples. ¡°You¡¯re suggesting we... announce this?¡± He gestured vaguely toward the corpse. ¡°Yes,¡± Callista said. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Melissa blinked. ¡°That is bold.¡± Callista¡¯s lip curled slightly. ¡°She thinks she controls the court. She thinks she is maneuvering us into a losing position. We need to flip the narrative before she can twist it against us.¡± Annemarie nodded thoughtfully, crossing her arms. ¡°A public problem is harder for her to bury.¡± Brenna frowned. ¡°So we take the body, throw it in front of the court, and say ¡®hey, look, a dead guy, what¡¯s up with that?¡¯¡± Callista gave her a sharp look. ¡°Something like that.¡± Brandon exhaled sharply. ¡°This is going to get us killed.¡± Callista shrugged. ¡°Then we had better make it worth it.¡± Melissa clapped her hands together. ¡°Alright. High treason it is.¡± Brandon groaned, dragging a hand down his face. ¡°Just to be clear, this is officially the worst idea we¡¯ve had.¡± ¡°Debatable,¡± Brenna muttered. Annemarie¡¯s gaze flicked toward Callista. ¡°If we do this, we need to control how it happens. We need to make Evadne react, not lead.¡± Callista nodded. ¡°Exactly.¡± Melissa leaned forward, eyes bright with mischief. ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan? Walk into court, drop the body, and say ¡®Surprise, motherfuckers!¡¯?¡± Callista gave her a look. Melissa sighed. ¡°Fine, fine. Something slightly more strategic.¡± Brandon¡¯s expression remained grim. ¡°We¡¯ll be painting targets on our backs.¡± ¡°We already have targets on our backs,¡± Annemarie countered. ¡°At least this way, we decide how big they are.¡± Brandon exhaled, dragging his hands through his hair. Silence stretched between them. Then Callista straightened. ¡°Tomorrow morning,¡± she said. ¡°We go before the court, when it is in session. We present the body. We force Adela and Onesta to act before Evadne can twist them against us.¡± Melissa smirked. ¡°Well, that¡¯ll be fun.¡± Julia still hadn¡¯t returned. Melissa fought the urge to fidget, forcing herself to focus. Later. She¡¯d fix it later. For now, they had work to do. The papers were spread across the table, illuminated by flickering candlelight. The deeper they read, the worse it got. ¡°This is...¡± Julia¡¯s voice trailed off, her eyes scanning the delicate, precise script. ¡°This isn¡¯t just local politics.¡± She turned the page, brow furrowing. ¡°This is Lashaar.¡± Brenna¡¯s breath caught. ¡°Lashaar?¡± Melissa whistled. ¡°Now that¡¯s an international disaster waiting to happen.¡± Callista frowned, her fingers tightening over the edge of one letter. ¡°Evadne has been corresponding with someone in the Lashaari court.¡± Julia tapped one of the documents. ¡°And not just anyone. Lord K.¡± Brandon¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Who the hell is Lord K?¡± Brenna¡¯s breath stilled. Slowly, she reached for another letter¡ª the one signed RK. Her fingers ghosted over the parchment as she stared at the initials, her mind racing. RK The realization struck like a hammer. ¡°...Raziel Kaelor,¡± she whispered. Silence. Callista¡¯s head snapped up. ¡°Are you sure?¡± Brenna swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. ¡°The signature¡ª it¡¯s the same way he signed the older Lashaari treaties.¡± Melissa groaned. ¡°You studied Lashaari treaties?¡± Brenna shot her a glare. ¡°I work with Queen Kiernen, Melissa.¡± Melissa grinned. ¡°Okay, okay, just checking.¡± Julia was still focused on the papers, flipping through them as her brow furrowed. ¡°Raziel Kaelor is on the Council of Lashaar. This isn¡¯t just some noble correspondence¡ª this is a direct connection between Swynden and the Lashaari court.¡± Brandon muttered a curse. ¡°This is big, isn¡¯t it?¡± Callista inhaled sharply, forcing herself to stay calm. ¡°What do the letters say?¡± Julia skimmed further, then read aloud. ¡°Our arrangement remains intact, and we will ensure that our interests are preserved. The Mirrorwood cannot be undone¡ª not with Milana as it is now. What we did cannot be reversed. Let them search¡ª it will only drive them deeper into ruin.¡± The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Callista¡¯s hands curled into fists. Melissa exhaled sharply. ¡°Holy shit.¡± Brandon¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°They¡¯re behind it.¡± Brenna¡¯s throat tightened. ¡°The Mirrorwood Curse wasn¡¯t just an accident.¡± She swallowed hard. ¡°It was a Soul Stealer curse.¡± Callista exhaled sharply, her grip tightening on the edge of the table. ¡°We need to announce this. Now. Before Evadne can do anything.¡± Brandon ran his hand through his hair, tension carved into every line of his face. ¡°If this is a representative of the Lashaari court... you know what we¡¯re about to do?¡± Callista met his gaze evenly, fury boiling below the surface. ¡°Yes.¡± Brenna let out a breath, her fingers still curled around the damning letter. ¡°Lashaar is involved. Not just Evadne, not just the fourth here¡ª this is bigger than Milana.¡± Melissa blew out a low whistle. ¡°Okay, so just to clarify: we are about to essentially declare war on a neighboring empire and announce to the court that we¡¯ve committed homicide in the span of, what, an hour?¡± Callista didn¡¯t even blink. ¡°Yes.¡± Melissa grinned. ¡°Just making sure we¡¯re on the same page.¡± Annemarie frowned, her hands folded tightly together. ¡°We don¡¯t have a choice. If we wait, Evadne will control the narrative.¡± Callista nodded. ¡°We take the corpse. We present it to the court. We force Adela and Onesta¡¯s hand before Evadne can manipulate them.¡± Brandon sighed, rubbing at his temple. ¡°And what, exactly, do we say?¡± Annemarie answered immediately. ¡°That Raziel Kaelor broke into the palace. That he attacked Julia. That she¡¯s recuperating from her injuries and can¡¯t be present.¡± Melissa arched a brow. ¡°Smart. No one can ask her for a second opinion.¡± Callista continued. ¡°We declare him and Evadne both traitors¡ª instigators of the Curse. We already have proof they were working together. Evadne will try to talk her way out of it, but we will force her to deny the letters, deny him¡ª¡± Brenna caught on. ¡°And if she denies knowing him, she loses her credibility.¡± Brandon groaned. ¡°And if she doesn¡¯t deny it, she¡¯s guilty by association.¡± Callista smirked slightly. ¡°Exactly.¡± Brandon exhaled sharply, glancing down at the corpse. ¡°And what do we do with this?¡± Melissa stretched, rolling out her shoulders. ¡°Drag him in front of the court, drop him dramatically, and say ¡®look what we found¡¯?¡± Callista¡¯s smirk widened. ¡°Something like that.¡± Brenna crossed her arms. ¡°Evadne will fight back. She will try to turn this on us.¡± Callista¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°Then we¡¯ll have to make sure she doesn¡¯t get the chance.¡± The room was silent for a long moment. Then Brandon sighed. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m saying this, but... let¡¯s go commit political suicide.¡± Melissa beamed. ¡°Now you¡¯re getting it.¡± They had their plan. And soon, the court of Swynden would have no idea what had hit them.