Prologue
My heart slammed against my ribs as I jolted upright, tearing free from sleep with a gasp. The remnants of the dream clung to me, slick and insistent, refusing to loosen their hold. Cold sweat drenched my skin, every breath burning as though I had surfaced from deep water too quickly.
The darkness pressed close, heavy and watchful. Shadows stretched along the stone walls, bending where they should not, and every creak of the house sent a tremor through me. I reached instinctively for the light, fingers shaking...
...and froze.
The realization struck like stepping onto a frozen lake and feeling the ice fracture beneath my feet. This was no dream. The vision still echoed in my bones, sharp and undeniable. A forewarning. The kind granted only when fate has already begun to move. The realm was in danger. I was in danger and I would not be the only one to feel it.
The gift, this curse, would ripple outward. It always did. It would draw attention, call to those who listened for such things, who hunted imbalance the way others hunted prey. Toward me... Toward what I carried.
I swung my legs from the bed, bare feet striking the cool stone floor. The night was unnaturally still, as though the world itself were holding its breath. Every sound felt magnified. The whisper of leaves brushing the window, the slow, deliberate ticking of the clock measuring seconds I no longer possessed.
An owl called out in the distance, low and mournful. An omen. I dressed quickly, movements sharpened by necessity rather than panic. Leather boots. A cloak of deep emerald green clasped tight around my shoulders. This had been my home, my sanctuary. I had loved it fiercely, trusted it to endure. But love does not stop what hunts in the dark.
I knelt at the foot of the bed before the wooden chest. Its surface was carved with sigils so old they had softened beneath generations of hands, not decoration, but warding. Promises layered over restraint. Magic meant to endure untouched, waiting rather than sleeping. The lines of my bloodline were etched into the grain, each mark placed by someone who had believed this place would hold.
I traced them once, committing every curve and groove to memory. I rested my palm against the lid. The wood was warm beneath my skin, alive in the quiet way of things bound to purpose. For one treacherous moment, I considered opening it, considered taking what had been guarded and unfinished and carrying it with me into the night.
Not yet, I told myself. Some truths survive only because they are waited for. The wards stirred at my intent alone. A faint, steady hum acknowledging the choice rather than resisting it. The chest remained sealed, patient as the bloodline that had kept it.
I took only what mattered. A small dagger lay atop the folded cloth inside my traveling satchel, its hilt fitting my palm as though it had been shaped for me alone. My grandmother’s gift. Old magic rested in its spine, quiet and faithful, content to be carried rather than wielded. I rose, leaving the chest untouched. I did not look back. Some safeguards work only if they are trusted.
The air outside was sharp and cold enough to bite, carrying the damp scent of moss and pine. I slipped into the night without ceremony, turning toward the forest that loomed dark and dense beyond the stone path. Its ancient boughs tangled together like clasped fingers waiting.
I ran. Roots and stones threatened my footing as I gathered my skirts and fled, cloak snapping behind me. Branches tore at fabric and skin alike as I pushed through the undergrowth, the forest closing around me with a familiarity that cut deeper than comfort. The forest knew me.
It shifted as I passed, whispering warnings I could no longer afford to heed. Somewhere behind me, something moved. Too quiet to be coincidence, too deliberate to be chance. The Night Wraiths had felt it too. The prophecy’s echo still rang through the land, loud enough to wake what should have remained sleeping.
My lungs burned. My heart thundered. Fear sharpened the world until it narrowed to breath and motion alone. Ahead, the trees thinned. A clearing opened before me, flooded with silver moonlight so bright it felt unreal. Hope surged sudden and dangerous. If I could reach it, if I could cross that open ground...
A hand clamped over my mouth. My scream died against a palm that smelled of earth and steel as I was yanked backward into shadow. Panic exploded through me, wild and blinding. I fought, kicking and twisting, until the world snapped into focus and I caught a glimpse of his face.
Eoghan.
The recognition struck harder than fear. An old friend of my parents. A guardian. A confidant. Someone I had trusted my entire life. My thoughts reeled, scrambling for meaning. Had he come to stop me? To drag me back before it was too late?
I tried to speak, to warn him, to explain what had already begun, but panic locked my voice away, freezing reason along with breath. The prophecy had been too loud. Too powerful. Of course others had felt it. Eoghan pressed a finger to his lips, his eyes sharp with urgency, then gestured toward the clearing. I followed his gaze, and my blood ran cold.
Palace guards moved through the silver light, armor glinting as their attention swept the tree line. Had I taken one more step, they would have seen me. I looked back at Eoghan, searching his face, speaking without words.
You are here to help me.
He did not answer. He only wrapped his arms around me and the world broke. The forest vanished in a violent lurch as reality folded in on itself. Space twisted and tore, the sensation nothing like walking. More like falling sideways through breath and light, through something older than language. The air burned and my stomach dropped. My bones vibrated as if struck by sound rather than motion.
It lasted only seconds. When my feet struck solid ground, my body rebelled. I collapsed to my knees, retching until there was nothing left to give, the taste of copper sharp on my tongue. The world swam, unfamiliar and wrong.
“Sorry,” I whispered, forcing myself upright.
Eoghan stood before me, his expression carved from sorrow. In that moment, I understood what he had taken from me, even as he saved my life. Everything. My home. My people.The land that had known my name.
Knowing what the right thing is and choosing it, carries its own grief. It settled into me like a long winter dusk, quiet and unyielding, pressing cold fingers beneath my ribs. It moved through my soul like a slow tide, dragging everything tender back into the dark, where even hope learned to whisper.
“You must stay hidden,” Eoghan said softly. “You must stay safe.”
“Eoghan,” I asked, dread curling low in my stomach, “what am I supposed to do?”
“You cannot know,” he replied, pain mirroring my own in his eyes. “If I stay, you will be discovered. You will know when the time comes, but not before.”
He stepped back, already slipping beyond my reach.
“For now,” he said, his voice breaking, “you will remain here.”
He looked at me one last time.
“In the realm of Humans.”
And then he was gone. The forest, this new unfamiliar forest, stood silent around me. No wards hummed beneath my skin. No ancient magic answered my breath. The stars above were sharp, distant, and uncaring. I pressed a trembling hand to my chest and turned inward, guarding what little remained. Because I knew, with aching certainty... Fate had not lost me. It had merely followed.
