Selene stumbled across the meadow, her legs unsteady beneath the weight of what had just happened. The shadows. The voice. The blinding light that had burst from her hands.
She was no warrior. She was a girl who still dreamed of running barefoot through palace courtyards, of reading by candlelight without a councilor tugging her sleeve. And yet—she had banished the creatures.
"Not bad," a voice drawled, "for a child playing at crowns."
Selene spun.
A man leaned against one of the crystal spires, arms crossed. His cloak was torn, boots mud-stained, his face shadowed by unkempt hair. A sword hung at his hip, its hilt worn smooth from years of use. His eyes, sharp as steel, studied her with mild amusement.
"Who are you?" Selene demanded, lifting her chin as her tutors had taught her.
"Someone who just saved your life," he replied, gesturing lazily to the tree line where the last wisps of shadow faded. "If I hadn't scattered them, you'd be bones."
"I banished them myself."
"Mm," he said, smirking. "Clumsy, but it worked."
Selene bristled. "Your name."
"Orien," he said after a pause. "Knight once, wanderer now. And you, little empress, are far from home."
Before she could reply, a sudden flurry of wings circled her head. A tinkling laugh, like tiny bells, filled the air.
"Don't listen to him!" cried a creature no larger than her hand, darting before her eyes. She had dragonfly wings, hair like golden thistle-down, and a mouth far too big for her face. "Knights lie, knights brood, knights smell like goats in rain!"
Selene blinked. "What are you?"
The tiny figure planted herself on Selene's shoulder proudly. "Lyriel. Your guide. Your friend. Your doom if you don't start running, because the Wraith King's pets don't stay scattered for long."
Selene stared at the knight. The knight stared back, smirk faint but unshaken. And the fae tugged at her ear.
Her journey, it seemed, had begun.