They traveled by starlight beneath the twin suns as they sank. Selene's gown shimmered faintly with every step, marking her like a beacon.
"Cover it," Orien muttered, throwing her a cloak. "Unless you want every shadow to chase us."
Lyriel darted in front of him, hands on her tiny hips. "She's the Lightbearer. Let them come!"
"Easy for you to say," he replied dryly. "You can fly away."
Selene listened, but her thoughts circled back to the voice that had named her: Lightbearer. Empress of Two Worlds. Her hands still tingled from the light she had unleashed. Was it truly her power? Or something borrowed from the crown?
By dawn, the meadow gave way to a forest. Trees rose so thick their branches wove together, drowning out the sky. A chill hung in the air. The moment they crossed beneath the first arching bough, Selene felt it—an ancient heaviness, like unseen eyes pressing against her skin.
"The Cursed Wood," Orien said grimly. "Few who enter leave again."
Lyriel zipped closer to Selene's ear. "Tests. The forest feeds on fear. Show it none."
They pressed on.
Soon, whispers stirred among the trees. Selene froze, for the voices sounded like her councilors, her tutors, even her late mother—scolding, doubting, warning that she was too small for the weight of a crown.
"You'll fail them all," the voices hissed. "You are nothing but a child."
Her chest tightened, but she forced herself forward.
When the shadows thickened, Selene's pendant pulsed faintly, sending out threads of light. The whispers recoiled.
The forest howled—but parted.
When at last they stumbled into clear daylight again, Selene was pale, trembling, but unbroken.
"You stood your ground," Orien said quietly. For the first time, there was no mockery in his voice.
Lyriel cackled. "Told you she wasn't all velvet and tears."