“I’m not running away, Mom,” I said, laughing as I zipped my duffle bag. “I’m just… finally taking a break. Exploring. Learning outside a classroom for once.”

  Mom folded her arms over a sweater, giving me that look—the one that meant I support you, but I’m panicking inside.

  “You just finished your degree, Freya. Most people rest after that, not wander off into the wild.”

  “That’s the point,” I said, tossing my notebook on top of my clothes. “I spent four years studying nature from behind glass and paper. I want to see it. Touch it. Learn from the real thing.”

  Dad’s voice floated from the kitchen. “That’s my girl!”

  Mom rolled her eyes, but her smile softened. “You sound just like him.”

  I grinned. “Then at least one of us is happy.”

  I double-checked the pockets—sketch pencils, a small jar of soil from our garden, my favorite field guide.

  “I’m packing light,” I said. “Promise.”

  “And how long is light supposed to last?”

  I paused, caught between truth and comfort. “A few weeks. Maybe a month. I’ll send postcards. I’m not disappearing.”

  Mom stepped closer, brushing a curl out of my face. “Just promise you’ll come back.”

  “I promise,” I whispered. And I meant it.

  Outside, the air smelled like maple and wind. Leaves whispered along the sidewalk as I headed toward the train station, boots crunching through the last breath of autumn. The world felt wide open and waiting.

  Then it happened again.

  That pull.

  It started like a heartbeat out of rhythm, a tiny spark deep under my skin.

  I slowed. “Weird,” I murmured to the air.

  Another tug, stronger this time, tightened beneath my ribs.

  I turned in a slow circle. The road ahead led to the station, to the plans I’d made. But behind me, a narrow dirt path wound between trees, sunlight flickering along the leaves like it was calling.

  My chest ached with that strange magnetism. I’d felt it before—briefly, randomly—but never this strong. And now, for once, I didn’t have classes or deadlines or anyone telling me no.

  “Curiosity killed the cat,” I muttered, smiling. “But I’m not a cat.”

  I stepped off the path.

  The further I walked, the brighter the air seemed to get. The autumn chill softened. I knelt beside a cluster of pale-gold flowers veined with silver and pulled out my notebook, excitement fluttering through me.

  “I’ve never seen this species before,” I whispered, tracing a petal. “Not even close. God, this is why I wanted to travel.”

  The trail wound deeper. I could still see the roofs of town behind me—barely—but it already felt like another place. I marked a tree with chalk, just in case, and kept going.

  The trees changed first. Taller. Smoother. Their bark shimmered faintly, like light was moving beneath it. Strange vines glowed when I brushed them with my fingertips.

  “Not even one day in,” I whispered, heart racing, “and I’ve already found something new and beautiful.”

  The pull throbbed again. Sharp and sweet.

  And I followed it.

  We were in the forest because of some so-called disturbance. What better than to send the most skilled to check it out? Just my luck. I’d rather be sunbathing in a meadow than trudging through the trees with Farren. All he does is brood.

  Mood killer.

  So, naturally, I decided to entertain myself.

  “I hear Calista is going above and beyond for this summer,” I said casually.

  “Mm.”

  “Sure Mother and Father are excited.”

  “Mm.”

  “So much attention is going to be on you.”

  A sigh from him, low and frayed.

  “And—”

  “Will you just shut up?” he snapped. “We’re supposed to be watching for anything suspicious.”

  I pressed a hand to my chest in mock offense. “Rude. Here I am, trying to make conversation, and you’d rather glower at trees.”

  He didn’t rise to it. Just kept walking. Which, of course, meant I had to fill the silence.

  “You know, it’s exhausting,” I continued, stretching the words. “Always having to be the charming one. Smiling, talking, making people laugh. Do you have any idea how hard it is, keeping up that kind of act?”

  Farren’s expression didn’t flicker. “Tragic.”

  “I’m serious,” I said, though my smirk lingered. “You get to brood and people call you mysterious. I so much as sigh, and suddenly I’m half the kingdom’s entertainment.”

  “Your point?”

  “My point,” I said, sweeping a hand like it should be obvious, “is that I can’t even walk through the market without chaos. Do you know how many baskets of fruit I’ve been offered this year? Too many.”

  He muttered, dry as stone. “How you suffer.”

  “Exactly! Being adored is overrated. Love—”

  I stopped myself. For once, the smirk slid away.

  “Love’s overrated,” I said again, quieter. “At least… the kind people throw at me. Smiles, touches, promises. They see the gold, the grin, the surface. But they don’t see me.”

  The silence pressed closer. Even the forest seemed to still, listening.

  “I’ve felt it,” I admitted, words sharper than I meant them. “Something missing. My whole life. Like I was born with an ache no one else feels. I laugh, I charm, I distract myself from it, but it never goes away. It’s like half my soul is walking somewhere else without me.”

  Farren’s gaze flicked over, unreadable.

  “And maybe—just maybe—when I find the person who actually sees me,” I said, softer now, almost to myself, “I’ll finally stop feeling like I’m chasing shadows. I’ll finally feel whole.”

  For a moment, it was true silence. No banter. No sarcasm. Just the admission hanging there, fragile as spun glass.

  Then Farren muttered under his breath, “Can’t wait for the day a woman has you falling flat on your face and giving you a piece of her mind.”

  I huffed a laugh, smirk tugging back into place. “Hate to break it to you, brother, but no such woman exists.”

  And that’s when the veil pulsed.

  A shiver of power rolled through the clearing, subtle but undeniable, like the whole forest exhaled at once.

  Farren stiffened beside me, hand twitching toward the hilt at his back.

  “You felt that,” he said.

  “Mm.” My smirk didn’t falter, though my pulse had. “I’ll go ahead. Higher vantage.”

  “Don’t do anything stupid,” he muttered.

  “When do I ever?”

  I didn’t wait for the answer.

  Climbing was second nature. The bark steady beneath my palms, the branches bending like they knew me. Higher, higher, until the hush swallowed everything. I drew in the silence, the peace, the weight of old magic humming in the leaves.

  Then the pull came.

  Not a sound or something seen.

  Like a thread had hooked beneath my ribs and yanked, sharp and certain.

  I froze. Scanned.

  And then I saw her.

  A girl. A mortal girl—she had to be, with her strange clothes, her hair wild from the wind. She stepped into the clearing as though the forest had been waiting for her, every leaf bending subtly toward her passing.

  The pull grew sharper. A knot tightening inside me.

  Ridiculous. Impossible.

  She wasn’t anyone. Just a human who’d wandered too far.

  But gods—

  The air around her felt alive. Her presence shifted the quiet, bent it, as though the forest itself leaned closer.

  My chest ached, sudden and foreign.

  No. No, no. This was nothing. An illusion, a trick of the light, of the veil.

  Still, the words slipped free before I could stop them.

  “You’re not supposed to be here.”

  She looked up.

  And I froze.

  Emerald. They blazed like two jewels cut from the heart of the earth itself. They struck me so hard I forgot to breathe.

  Beautiful. Unsettling. Familiar.

  I swallowed, smirk twitching back into place like a shield.

  Just a girl, I told myself. Just a girl in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  And yet my heart thundered like I’d found something I didn’t even know I’d been searching for.

  A voice cut through the rustling trees.

  “You’re not supposed to be here.”

  I froze. My head snapped upward.

  A boy perched on a branch above me, legs swinging lazily as sunlight poured through his golden hair. His amber eyes flickered with amusement.

  “You always sneak up on strangers from trees,” I called up, “or am I just lucky?”

  He grinned. “Oh, you’re lucky. I don’t climb down for just anyone.”

  “How generous.”

  He dropped lightly to the ground. Too lightly, like gravity was a suggestion. Tall, lean, and graceful in a way that shouldn’t have been real. His posture looked relaxed, but his eyes stayed sharp, studying me like a riddle he wasn’t sure he wanted solved.

  “Where are you from?” he asked, curiosity curling through his voice.

  “I was heading to the train station,” I said carefully, still holding my notebook like a shield.

  He tilted his head, smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “This doesn’t look much like a train station.”

  I let out a small laugh, nerves trailing behind it. “I know. I saw this dirt path. It led into the forest, and I thought I’d take a quick detour. There were these plants I’d never seen before, so I wanted to observe them. One thing led to another and, well… now I’m here.”

  His mouth quirked. “Curiosity. Dangerous trait.”

  “Good thing I’m careful.”

  “Careful?” He stepped closer, sunlight threading through the space between us. “You followed a glowing forest into nowhere.”

  I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Fair point.

  He studied me for a long, silent moment. “You need to turn back. Leave the forest.”

  I blinked, pulse quickening. “Excuse me?”

  His tone stayed calm, almost bored. “It’s not safe for you here.”

  I took a step back, steadying my voice even though my heart jumped. “I appreciate the warning, but I don’t take orders from strangers in trees.”

  That almost-smile returned. Wolfish this time. He moved closer, close enough for me to smell pine and something warmer, like sunlight caught in the air. His eyes narrowed, intrigued. Then he reached out and lifted one of my curls between his fingers.

  “How did you get through the wards?”

  I flinched back. “Through the what now—?”

  A deeper voice cut through the quiet. “Elian.”

  The sound of it hit me like a bell.

  Elian.

  I turned toward the voice. Another figure stepped from the trees. Taller, broader. Black hair streaked with silver, eyes gray as thunderclouds. He looked like the kind of person who didn’t smile often, and if he did, it probably caused natural disasters.

  His gaze swept over me once, sharp and assessing. “Who are you?”

  “Freya,” I said, hesitating on the name like saying it out loud might make this whole situation more real.

  Elian’s brow arched. “Freya here said she saw a path and followed it right into the forest.”

  “She shouldn’t be able to see the path,” the dark-haired one said, eyes narrowing.

  “She did,” Elian replied lightly. “So what do we do with her, Farren?”

  The name hit me unexpectedly. Deep, resonant, almost electric. Farren. The syllables lingered in the air, colder than his expression.

  “You’re not armed,” Elian went on, still watching me. “And you’re not afraid. Interesting.”

  “Or stupid,” Farren muttered.

  “Depends on your definition,” I shot back before I could stop myself.

  He arched a brow, unimpressed. “You don’t belong here.”

  “Do you own this forest?” I snapped. “Because unless your name’s carved on every tree, I think I’m allowed to walk.”

  Farren didn’t even twitch.

  I crossed my arms. “There was a path. I followed it. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I can just turn around and leave. I even left a trail so I can find my way back.”

  Farren’s expression didn’t change, but his voice was firm. “No. The sun will be down soon. It’s not safe for you.”

  I huffed. “I can handle myself. I didn’t wander in that far.”

  Before I could step away, his hand caught my arm. His grip was solid, the kind that warned more than restrained. His touch was warm, grounding, and entirely too steady.

  “You don’t understand the danger in this forest,” he said quietly, eyes meeting mine. “You shouldn’t be here after dark.”

  Something in his tone, soft but unyielding, made my pulse jump.

  Elian stepped between us, still smiling but gentler now. “She’ll stay the night. We’ll take her back at first light.”

  “Stay the night? With you?”

  He smirked. “Don’t get any ideas. We have a guest room, and Calista can help you with whatever you need.”

  Heat shot to my cheeks. “I didn’t—”

  “Relax.” His grin widened. “I was teasing.”

  I turned away to hide the blush, and froze.

  The path was gone.

  No footprints. No broken branches. Just endless trees twisting in quiet patterns of gold and green.

  “I swear it was right there,” I whispered.

  Elian glanced around with curious amusement. “The forest must want you to stay.”

  “That’s not possible,” I breathed.

  Farren’s voice was low and certain. “You’ll believe it soon enough.”

  For a heartbeat, I thought about running. But the forest didn’t feel hostile. Just alive. Strange. And both of them, even the cold one, carried something that pulled at me. Safe and dangerous all at once.

  Elian’s smile gentled. “Come on. We’ll take you somewhere safe until morning.”

  Farren’s jaw tightened. “But she leaves at dawn.”

  “Charming as ever,” Elian murmured. “Try not to scare her before dinner.”

  Farren’s glare could’ve frozen rivers.

  I exhaled, clutching my notebook. “Okay,” I muttered under my breath, “in a mysterious forest that no longer has an exit, with two illegally handsome men taking me somewhere ‘safe.’ This is definitely a normal part of life.”

  Elian laughed softly. “See? You’re adapting already.”

  “I really hope not,” I said.

  Still, as I followed them through the glowing trees, the strangest thing happened. Beneath the fear, beneath the disbelief, something in me settled.

  Like I’d finally found the place I’d been walking toward all along.

  We walked in silence for a while, the forest stretching endlessly around us. Light shimmered gold between the branches, bending in ways that shouldn’t have been possible. Every few steps, I’d catch something glowing faintly in the underbrush. A bloom that pulsed when I looked at it, a vine that seemed to hum against the wind.

  Farren walked ahead, his stride steady and sure, like he’d memorized every inch of the woods. Elian stayed beside me, quiet for once, though I could feel his gaze flicking toward me, curious.

  After a few minutes, Farren spoke without turning.

  “You shouldn’t wander alone. You’re defenseless.”

  I frowned. “Defenseless? I’m fine. I hike, I camp, I know how to take care of myself.”

  His tone stayed calm but carried weight. “Knowing how to walk through any other forest isn’t the same as surviving in this one.”

  “I’ve been in nature my entire life,” I said, trying not to sound defensive. “I know what to do and what not to do.”

  A quiet scoff. “Like walking straight into a place you’ve never seen before because the plants looked interesting?”

  I stopped walking. “You make it sound like I did this on purpose.”

  He finally turned, eyes catching the faint light. “Didn’t you?”

  “I followed a path,” I said, crossing my arms. “That’s called curiosity. Maybe you should try it sometime instead of glaring at everything.”

  Something flickered in his expression. Amusement, maybe, though it vanished almost instantly. “Curiosity gets people killed in these woods.”

  “And arrogance must be contagious,” I muttered.

  Elian’s laugh broke the tension like sunlight splitting a storm.

  “Careful, Farren,” he said, smiling. “This one bites.”

  “Only if provoked,” I shot back.

  Farren’s mouth twitched. Just barely. “You seem easily provoked.”

  “And you seem allergic to basic manners.”

  That earned me the faintest sound. Half a breath, almost a laugh, if he hadn’t been trying so hard to hide it.

  Elian clasped his hands behind his back, clearly entertained. “Well, this is fun. Should I start taking bets?”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “On what?” I demanded.

  “Whether you or Farren cracks first,” he said, eyes glinting with mischief. “My money’s on him.”

  Farren looked away, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “Not a chance.”

  Before I could think of another retort, Elian stepped forward, that smug grin returning. “Farren, are you really going to argue with a beautiful girl in the middle of a forest? I’m starting to think you’re doing it just to impress her.”

  Farren shot him a flat look. “You think everything is about impressing someone.”

  Elian shrugged. “I’m usually right.”

  Farren’s gaze flicked toward me. “Beautiful, maybe,” he said evenly, “but reckless.”

  I blinked. “Excuse me?”

  Farren didn’t flinch. “You walked into danger without realizing it. That’s reckless.”

  I folded my arms tighter. “And you walk around acting like everyone should follow your orders. That’s arrogant.”

  He took a slow breath, stepping closer. “You don’t understand what this forest is.”

  “Then explain it,” I said, refusing to back down. “Because all I see are trees and two men who apparently think I’m helpless.”

  Elian chuckled under his breath. “I’d listen to him, little thorn. Farren’s not great with people, but he’s rarely wrong.”

  “Rarely?” Farren echoed dryly.

  “Fine. Occasionally,” Elian said with a grin. “And you are a bit intense.”

  “I’m cautious,” Farren corrected. “Someone needs to be.”

  I scowled. “I didn’t ask for a bodyguard.”

  “Too late,” he said. “You have one anyway.”

  That did it. “You don’t even know me.”

  “I don’t need to.” His gaze held mine, steady and unreadable. “I can see it. You’re stubborn, impulsive, and you think the world will always bend for you. It won’t.”

  The words stung more than I wanted to admit. “You don’t know what I’ve seen,” I whispered.

  “No,” he said quietly. “But the forest does.”

  Something in his voice changed, softer, almost reverent, and then the air itself seemed to shiver.

  The warmth vanished. The light dimmed. A strange pressure pressed against my chest, sharp and cold, like invisible hands pushing inward.

  “What—” I gasped, clutching my ribs. “Something’s—”

  Farren’s expression hardened instantly. He closed the space between us, catching me before my knees buckled.

  “Freya,” he said, voice low and urgent. “Breathe.”

  “I—I can’t—”

  The world tilted. Trees swayed and blurred. The air thrummed with something alive, ancient, wrong.

  The ground rushed up—

  And everything went black.

  She dropped.

  No warning. No time.

  Like her strings had been cut.

  One second she was standing there, smart mouth, sharp eyes.

  The next, she was crumpled in the moss, unmoving.

  I was beside her before Elian even exhaled.

  “She just collapsed,” I said, scanning her face, her limbs, the exposed skin along her throat. No blood. No wounds. But something thrummed beneath her like a current I couldn’t trace. Magic, maybe. Old, unspoken. Dangerous.

  My hand hovered over her chest, feeling for breath. It was there. Faint. Unsteady.

  “She said something was wrong, then fell.”

  Elian stepped in behind me, voice suddenly sharp. “What happened?”

  “Poison?” he asked, tense.

  “No.” My jaw clenched. The treeline was still. Too still. “But something’s here.”

  A scream rang out from the trees, distant. Inhuman.

  More shrieks followed. Closer now.

  I stood slowly, blade sliding from its sheath. The forest had turned to glass, thin and waiting to shatter.

  And behind us, on the forest floor, the girl we barely knew lay still as ash.

  Whoever she was, whatever just knocked her flat,

  she was ours now.

  I dropped to my knees again, ignoring the tremor in the air, and pressed a hand to her shoulder. Her pulse fluttered weakly beneath my fingers. Her skin was warm. Too warm.

  “Freya,” I murmured, softer this time. “You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

  The words came before I could think. Instinct. Vow. Promise. And for a heartbeat, her breath steadied under my hand.

  “Elian,” I said without looking up, “get ready to move. If she doesn’t wake soon, we’re carrying her out.”

  He nodded once, eyes flashing gold.

  The air shifted. The forest held its breath.

  And I—

  I didn’t let go.

  Because I don’t let people under my watch hit the ground twice.

  She lay still.

  Too still.

  That mouth that had thrown daggers only minutes ago was silent now. Her limbs loose. Her body limp against the moss.

  I moved forward slowly, the heat in my blood already rising. An ache. A pulse. As if her collapse had set something inside me alight.

  I dropped to my knees beside her, hesitated, then brushed my fingers against her skin.

  Warm.

  Alive.

  And mine.

  The word came unbidden. Fierce. Certain.

  Mine.

  I didn’t understand it. But some part of me did.

  Like a forgotten thread pulling taut beneath my ribs. A tether I hadn’t known I was missing until it yanked.

  She belonged to no one. But somehow, I was hers. And she… she was mine.

  Farren crouched opposite me, blade still drawn, his expression unreadable.

  I didn’t look at him. Couldn’t.

  “If anything touches her,” I muttered, the words low and dangerous, “I’ll burn this whole forest to the ground.”

  He didn’t argue. His jaw flexed once. “Then you’d better move fast.”

  “I’ll carry her,” I said.

  Something flickered in his eyes. Confusion, maybe, or concern. But he only nodded. “I’ll open the veil.”

  I slid my arms beneath her. She was light. Too light. Her head fell gently against my chest, curls brushing my collarbone.

  She smelled like earth after rain. Like old roots and stormlight. Like something I’d forgotten how to need.

  The forest seemed to watch us, holding its breath.

  Farren reached into the air, fingers flaring with silver light. The trees bent away as though exhaling, parting like a curtain drawn back too long.

  I stepped through first.

  And I did not look back.

  The veil split around us like water breaking on stone. One step, and the air changed. Cooler, sharper, threaded with the hum of wards I’d known my whole life.

  Home.

  And yet… not.

  Freya was still in my arms, her warmth sinking into me like sunlight through glass. I didn’t trust myself to loosen my hold. The pulse beneath her skin beat faintly against my wrist, unsteady but alive.

  Behind me, Farren’s boots hit the marble with a dull echo. The moment his magic sealed the veil, the forest noise vanished. Only our breathing remained.

  “You should have let me carry her,” he said quietly.

  I glanced over my shoulder. “Would you have given her back?”

  He exhaled through his nose, almost a scoff. “Probably not. But between the two of us, she’s safer with me. You’re the reckless one, remember?”

  I shot him a sharp look. “Reckless saves lives sometimes.”

  “Or ends them,” he said evenly.

  I huffed a dry laugh. “Then it’s a good thing you’re here to balance me out.”

  He stepped closer, gaze flicking to Freya’s face. “You’re burning,” he murmured. “Your aura. Look at you.”

  I looked down. He was right. Light shimmered faintly along my arms, gold bleeding from my veins like molten thread. I hadn’t even noticed.

  “What the hell is this?” Farren asked. “She touches you, and suddenly you’re—”

  “Don’t,” I snapped. Louder than I meant to. “Just… don’t.”

  His jaw tightened, but he didn’t push. His eyes stayed on me, sharp and questioning.

  We walked on in silence, the echo of our steps swallowed by the long corridor. The castle rose around us, vaulted ceilings, shifting light, the faint hum of ancient wards.

  Farren finally broke the quiet. “When we get there, I’ll call for Calista. She can help.”

  I nodded absently, shifting Freya’s weight in my arms. Her head rested against my chest, curls brushing the edge of my jaw. The warmth from her skin seeped into me, steady and rhythmic, like it was syncing with my own pulse.

  It shouldn’t have felt like this. Nothing should feel like this.

  Her fingers twitched.

  I froze.

  “Farren.”

  He looked up, eyes narrowing. “What?”

  “She’s moving.”

  Her breath caught, shallow, quick. The faintest sound slipped from her lips, half-formed, like a name lost in a dream.

  “Easy,” I murmured, my voice softer now, instinctive. “You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

  For a heartbeat, her eyes fluttered beneath her lashes. The glow along my arms pulsed once, brighter, and then steadied.

  Farren’s gaze darted between us, wary. “Elian—”

  But I wasn’t listening. Every thread of focus locked on her, the girl who’d fallen from nowhere and somehow lit the parts of me I thought were long dead.

  Her eyes began to open.

  And the world tilted again.

  I woke to warmth.

  A chest beneath my cheek, solid and steady, rising with slow, measured breaths.

  An arm cradled my shoulders. Another hooked beneath my knees, holding me like I weighed nothing.

  A hand rested at the small of my back, fingers flexing once, just enough to remind me I wasn’t going anywhere.

  Cedar.

  That was the first thing I registered. Sharp and grounding, like pine needles after rain. It clung to him, to the heat rolling off his skin, to the space where my cheek met his chest.

  I didn’t remember falling. Didn’t know why I was being carried.

  But I knew this: whoever was holding me was angry. Not at me. At whatever had touched me.

  And somehow… that made me feel safe.

  I blinked.

  Golden eyes.

  The blond one.

  “You’re alright,” he said, voice lower now. Soft. “I’ve got you.”

  “What… happened?”

  “There was something in the woods,” he murmured. “We handled it.”

  I started to sit up, but his grip tightened, just for a heartbeat, before easing again.

  Like letting go was hard.

  Like holding me felt… natural.

  Or maybe just necessary.

  I turned my head slightly and caught movement ahead.

  Farren.

  He walked in silence, sword still drawn. The blade caught the light, glinting with something dark and wet and wrong.

  He didn’t look back.

  Elian shifted, angling my body subtly away.

  Shielding me.

  Just quietly. Like he didn’t want me seeing whatever that was.

  Or didn’t want me looking at Farren at all.

  “You’re really going to carry her the whole way back?” Farren called, still facing forward.

  “She passed out,” Elian said calmly.

  “She’s awake now.”

  “She’s disoriented.”

  “She has legs.”

  Elian’s tone dripped with silk and venom. “And I have arms. Is that a problem for you?”

  A pause. “Also, your hands were on her. I’m still working through that.”

  Farren didn’t turn. “I kept her from hitting the ground.”

  Elian’s voice darkened, still soft, but sharp as a blade slipping between ribs.

  “No one touches her.”

  Then, after a beat, just as evenly: “That includes you.”

  I blinked. “Am I… being discussed like luggage right now?”

  Elian looked down at me with a crooked smile. “Only the premium kind.”

  “Unbelievable,” I muttered.

  Farren said something under his breath.

  “What was that?” Elian asked, all honey and warning.

  “I said,” Farren answered, louder, “you get that look in your eyes.”

  Elian’s smile didn’t move. “You’re imagining things.”

  I stared up at him. “You know I can hear both of you, right?”

  Elian’s grin deepened. “Good. Then you’ll know I’m the charming one.”

  I groaned. “Elian, is this your actual life? Bickering with stormclouds while dragging half-conscious girls through cursed forests?”

  “Usually it’s just the stormcloud part,” he said. “You’re the exciting new variable.”

  “And you’re still talking,” Farren muttered.

  The path curved ahead, and the forest peeled back like a curtain.

  I gasped.

  A city unfolded before us.

  Glass and green, rising from the earth like a dream.

  Spirals of crystal kissed the sky, woven through with trees and light. Bridges arched between towers like ribbons, and vines curled up every balcony as if the forest itself was offering its heart. The roots glowed faintly beneath our feet.

  It didn’t feel familiar.

  Not exactly.

  But something in me leaned toward it.

  Hungry. Curious.

  Confused.

  I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t.

  Elian’s voice brushed close, just behind my ear. “Impressive, right?”

  The whisper of it made my stomach flutter.

  I nodded, still speechless.

  Farren didn’t turn, but his voice sliced through the hush.

  “Don’t get used to it,” he said flatly. “You’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

  Behind us, the mist closed like a door.

  I didn’t speak for a while.

  Partly because I didn’t trust my voice.

  Partly because what was I supposed to say?

  Hi, I’m Freya. I fell into a hidden forest, blacked out from… nothing?

  Got scooped up by a golden-eyed flirt and glared at by a walking raincloud.

  Now they’re arguing over who gets to carry me like I’m some kind of magical duffel bag.

  Sure. Totally normal day.

  I stared at the back of Farren’s head. He walked like nothing had happened, sword casually resting at his side, like he always strolled through haunted woods with unconscious girls and murder screams.

  Elian, on the other hand, was too close. Too warm. Too steady.

  And definitely still holding me.

  I considered insisting I could walk.

  But my legs felt like overcooked noodles, so… maybe later.

  The palace opened like a breath.

  It felt… alive.

  The air changed as soon as I stepped through the doors. Warmth slipped across my skin, scented with something ancient, floral and spiced, like sunlight poured through roots. Light fell in dappled beams from unseen windows, painting the marble in hues of honey and rose.

  The walls glowed faintly with veins of silver light that pulsed, almost like they were breathing.

  Vines crept along carved stone columns, winding through gilded cracks like they were mending the palace from the inside. Lanterns floated midair, casting soft golden light that flickered like sunlight through leaves. And beneath it all, shadows pooled in quiet corners, cool and still, like they remembered secrets.

  The ceiling stretched high above us, covered in mosaics. Storms rolling across oceans, golden fields lit by an eternal sun, a sky split between light and thunder. The tiles shimmered as we moved, catching the light in ways that made the scenes feel alive.

  It wasn’t just a building. It was a crown someone had carved from memory, sunlight, stormlight, and time.

  And I was exhausted. From listening to the two of them.

  “Technically,” Elian was saying, “she’s under my watch. I’m the one carrying her.”

  “You weren’t the first one to reach her,” Farren said flatly.

  Elian shrugged. “No. But I’m the one she’s with now. Try not to cry about it.”

  Farren sighed so hard the hallway might’ve groaned with him. “I wasn’t crying. I was hoping for silence.”

  They’d been at it for the last ten minutes. I couldn’t tell if this was normal for them, or if I’d just become the most entertaining topic since breakfast.

  “Can I…” I raised a hand weakly. “Maybe lie down before you start round six?”

  That’s when the girl appeared.

  She stepped lightly into the hall, as if she’d been waiting just out of sight, tall, elegant, draped in a soft gown that shimmered between pearl-thread and midnight. Her dark curls bounced as she moved. Her smile lit the space like the sun finding a window.

  “Perfect timing,” Farren muttered. “Calista. She can take the extra room.”

  “Oh, her?” Calista brightened immediately. “She’s lovely! Poor thing, she looks ready to drop.” She moved closer, her voice softening. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s sit you down.”

  Something in her energy was bold but kind, like the sort of person who led every conversation but made sure you felt seen in it.

  She gestured toward a marble bench carved with vines and sunlight. “Careful, it’s cool to the touch,” she warned gently, brushing dust from the seat before I sat.

  “Hi,” she said, smiling in that quick, genuine way that made her eyes glint silver. “I’m Calista. You’re very pretty. And you’re safe now. Try not to die.”

  I blinked.

  Calista laughed softly, then leaned closer. “Sorry. I say strange things when I’m nervous. You okay?”

  Her voice was velvet and warmth all at once, light teasing wrapped around genuine concern.

  “Oh,” I managed. “I think so.”

  She studied me, eyes lingering near my jaw. “You have a lavender mark,” she said thoughtfully. “By your ear. That’s beautiful.”

  I tensed before I could stop myself.

  She noticed right away, the teasing fading from her face. “Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” She reached out, then hesitated, giving me space. “You’ve had a long day. Let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

  Her tone, steady, practical, but kind, made me exhale for the first time since waking up.

  “She’ll be next to your quarters,” Farren told her. “Keep her out of trouble.”

  Calista arched a brow but smiled. “I’ll make sure she’s fed, rested, and not in your war path. Promise.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Elian murmured, stepping forward. His voice dipped low, smooth as sunlight sliding over glass. “Sweet dreams…” he said, amber eyes gleaming with practiced charm. “I know, because I’ll be in them.”

  Silence.

  Calista blinked. “Oh stars, he did not just say that.”

  Farren groaned and dragged a hand down his face.

  And me? I blushed so fast I thought my ears might ignite.

  “You’re full of yourself,” I said before my brain could intervene.

  Elian blinked, thrown. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “I was… trying to make you comfortable.”

  “That was supposed to make her feel comfortable?” Farren muttered. “You creep.”

  Elian looked genuinely wounded. “It was charming.”

  “Tragic,” Calista corrected, looping her arm through mine with an affectionate squeeze. “Come on, mystery girl. Before you faint again, or melt from secondhand embarrassment.”

  I laughed, still flushed, as she led me down the hall. Her touch was gentle but confident, guiding, not controlling.

  Behind us, Farren and Elian’s voices faded into another argument, but Calista just smiled knowingly. “Ignore them,” she whispered. “They’ve been like that since they could walk.”

  Something warm unfurled in my chest.

  Maybe it was exhaustion.

  Or maybe it was her.

  For the first time since I’d stumbled into this strange world, I didn’t feel alone.

  Calista talked the entire walk down the corridor.

  This wasn’t just polite, tour-guide talk. No. This was sparkling chaos with purpose.

  “And that’s the balcony where I threw up stardust punch. Don’t ask. Oh, and that hallway always smells like cinnamon. It’s cursed, probably. And this door? Never open it. I don’t know why, just trust me.”

  I tried to keep up. I really did. But after five minutes of breathless chatter, my head was spinning.

  She was worse than Elian. Just dressed in pearls.

  The hallway shimmered with the same golden veins that pulsed through the palace, and as we passed beneath an arched skylight, moonlight spilled across the floor like poured silver. Even the shadows here looked curated, soft, cool, intentional.

  We stopped before a door carved with floral inlays and faint golden threads.

  “Here we are!” she beamed. “Right across from mine, obviously. Isn’t that great?”

  I had a feeling I’d be seeing her a lot.

  She opened the door and motioned me inside.

  It was… breathtaking.

  Beautiful. Alive.

  A curved wall of windows overlooked a moonlit garden. The bed frame looked grown rather than built, roots spiraling into a canopy of leaves and light. A wardrobe pulsed faintly with a soft green glow. Books were tucked into every corner.

  And the bathtub—

  It was sunk into the floor like a pool rimmed with pearl-colored stone. The water shimmered with silver light, more than just moonlight. There was something older. Wilder.

  The whole room felt like it was breathing with me.

  Calista handed me a nightgown spun from something between silk and cloud, then wrapped me in a sudden hug.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, squeezing gently. “You just have the kind of face people want to protect.”

  “Uh… thanks?”

  She laughed, brushing a damp curl from my face. “You’ll be fine. Get some rest. I’ll check on you in the morning, alright?”

  Then she left, graceful, humming, and somehow making me feel like the palace had just gotten a little warmer.

  Once she was gone, I peeled off my clothes, sank into the bath, and let the warmth soak through me. The air smelled like lavender and cedar. For the first time since stepping into this world, I felt something close to peace.

  By the time I wrapped myself in a towel, my hair dripping down my back, I almost forgot where I was.

  Until someone knocked.

  I sighed. “Calista, if you brought bedtime snacks, I might actually love you..:”

  I opened the door a crack.

  A chest was the first thing I saw. Broad. Solid. Definitely not Calista.

  I looked up.

  Farren.

  “Oh,” I blurted, gripping the towel tighter. “I, uh, I thought you were, never mind.”

  He didn’t move. Didn’t even glance down. His gaze stayed fixed somewhere over my head, like the ceiling had personally offended him.

  In one hand, he held a tray with fruit, bread, a small carafe of water.

  “I brought you food,” he said finally, voice low and steady. “You haven’t eaten.”

  “Oh. Thank you.”

  He nodded once, as if that ended the conversation, but didn’t leave.

  “Is the room to your liking?” he asked after a pause.

  “It’s beautiful,” I admitted. “A little overwhelming. I’m… not used to this.”

  He nodded again, slower this time. “You’ll rest here tonight. Then you’ll leave in the morning.”

  “Right.” My chest tightened, though I wasn’t sure why. “Back to… wherever the path decides I belong.”

  His jaw flexed, eyes flicking to mine for the first time. “You shouldn’t have been able to walk that path at all.”

  “I noticed,” I said quietly.

  Something unreadable crossed his face. Worry, maybe. Or something heavier. “Still,” he murmured, “I’m glad you did.”

  The words landed soft but sure, like they’d slipped past his guard before he could stop them.

  He seemed to realize it, too. His mouth pressed into a line, and he set the tray down on the nearest table with careful precision.

  “Eat. Rest,” he said, stepping back. “The forest doesn’t often give second chances.”

  And with that, he turned and left. No farewell. No glance back.

  The door clicked shut.

  I stood there for a long moment, the towel damp in my hands, heart thudding far too fast for someone who’d nearly collapsed hours ago.

  I wasn’t sure what had just happened.

  But for reasons I couldn’t name, it felt like I’d been seen for the first time in a long, long while.

  She opened the door in a towel.

  Of course she did.

  I stared at the far wall. Said what I needed to say. Kept my tone flat. My expression flatter. Didn’t react. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t look.

  Not really.

  Then I turned and left.

  The hallway was quiet. Good. I needed quiet.

  I moved fast. I wasn’t fleeing, I was just moving… forward. Controlled. But the image wouldn’t leave me.

  Not because of the towel.

  Because of her.

  She carried herself like a heartstag learning to stand, fragile in body, fierce in spirit. Soft edges hiding antlers no one could see yet. She should’ve been vulnerable. Instead, she was sharp. Irritating. Stubborn. All instinct and challenge.

  And I—

  I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  Unlike Elian who would give that smirk and that damn look in his eyes.

  I didn’t want her.

  I just… needed her safe.

  And that didn’t make any sense.

  Why did she unsettle me?

  Why did she get under my skin with three words and a glance?

  Why did I feel like if I looked away too long, something would take her?

  She’s not mine to protect.

  But stars help me… I already knew I would.

  When I stepped into the common room, Elian was already sprawled across the couch like he’d invented lounging. Feet on the table. Arms behind his head. That insufferable grin waiting to pounce.

  He didn’t say anything right away. Just watched me. Then:

  “What. Did. You. Do.”

  I scowled. “Simmer down, sun boy.”

  His brow arched like a challenge. “You’re blushing.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are.”

  Elian didn’t move from the couch. He just lounged there, legs sprawled, posture careless, the kind of ease that only looks relaxed when you know exactly how dangerous it is.

  “So,” he said finally, voice too calm, “you went to her room.”

  I didn’t answer.

  He smiled. “You’re faster than I thought.”

  “Don’t start,” I muttered.

  “I’m not. I’m asking.” His tone stayed light, but his eyes didn’t. “Did she look at you the way she looks at me?”

  I shot him a glare sharp enough to cut through the air. “You think everything looks at you.”

  “Because it usually does.” His smirk deepened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You should’ve seen her in the forest. When I carried her through the veil, she fit against me like she’d been there before. Like she belonged there.”

  I stiffened. “She’s not yours, Elian.”

  His grin thinned. “No. But, she also is not yours.”

  The silence that followed was thin and dangerous.

  I turned away. “You’re lucky I didn’t slam the door on your ego earlier.”

  He laughed, low and victorious, like he’d won something.

  He hadn’t.

  Not yet.

  That night, I dreamed.

  This one was… quiet. Unlike the normal, when everything burned.

  The sound of ocean waves filled my ears, slow, endless, rhythmic.

  Foam kissed the shore.

  Wind stirred my hair.

  Laughter echoed somewhere in the distance.

  Light laughter. Joyful.

  “You can’t catch me!”

  “Try me!”

  More laughter. Two voices, chasing each other through the surf.

  Then a third, dry and amused:

  “You two are so childish.”

  The waves kept crashing, as if they were speaking too. Whispering secrets through water and time.

  I didn’t know who they were.

  I couldn’t see them clearly. Everything was blurred at the edges, like I was standing too far from the shore to make them out.

  But I felt them.

  Peace. That’s what it felt like.

  Like safety. Like being held without arms. Like knowing, without words, that I belonged.

  The water sparkled gold and silver and something in between.

  Maybe this was a memory.

  Maybe it was a promise.

  But for the first time in years,

  I didn’t want to wake up.