The fall was not a fall. It was a violent, chaotic tearing through everything. There was no up or down, only a vortex of screaming color and shrieking sound that ripped at Alina's senses. She was a leaf in a hurricane, formless and weightless, every part of her screaming in silent terror. The searing pain in her wrist was the only anchor in the madness, a focal point of impossible energy.
Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped.
Silence. Stillness.
Alina landed not with a crash, but with the impossible softness of a falling feather. She lay on a bed of cool, damp moss, her body trembling, her breath coming in ragged, painful gasps. The air smelled of damp earth, of night-blooming flowers, and something else… something clean, crisp, and electric, like the air after a thunderstorm.
Slowly, she pushed herself up. Her cheap work slacks were torn at the knee, her white blouse smudged with dirt. She was in a forest, but it was unlike any forest she had ever seen or imagined. Towering, silver-barked trees stretched toward a sky choked with stars, so bright and close they seemed like a canopy of diamonds. The forest floor was aglow with phosphorescent fungi, casting an ethereal blue and violet light on the strange, beautiful flora.
This was the world from her sketchbook. The dream she couldn't remember.
Her mind reeled. Was she dead? Was this a dream? A hallucination brought on by a complete mental breakdown on her 25th birthday?
A twig snapped nearby.
Alina froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. She was not alone. From the deep shadows between the silver trees, a figure emerged. He was tall and broad-shouldered, clad in form-fitting, dark emerald armor that seemed to drink the starlight. A hooded cloak obscured his features, but the silver hilt of a longsword was visible over his shoulder. He moved with a silent, predatory grace that spoke of years of training.
This was no park ranger. This was a warrior.
Panic, cold and absolute, seized her. She scrambled backward, her hands digging into the soft moss, her mind screaming at her to run.
The figure stopped a few yards from her, his head tilted. He slowly reached up and pulled back his hood. Alina's breath caught in her throat. He was handsome in a severe, dangerous way, with a sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and dark hair cropped short. But it was his eyes that held her captive. They were the color of a stormy sea, and they were fixed not on her face, but on her wrist.
He stared at the glowing, star-shaped mark, which still pulsed with a faint, residual light. His stoic, warrior's expression crumbled, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated shock, mingled with something that looked terrifyingly like fear.
"It cannot be," he breathed, the words a rough, disbelieving whisper.
He took a step forward, and Alina flinched, trying to hide her marked wrist. He stopped instantly, holding up a gauntleted hand as if to show he meant no harm. His gaze lifted from her wrist to finally meet her eyes.
For a long moment, he just stared, his storm-gray eyes searching her face, taking in her torn, strange clothes and her terrified expression. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, broken only by the faint, magical hum of the forest.
Then, in a single, fluid motion that was both shocking and deeply reverent, the formidable warrior dropped to one knee. He bowed his head, his posture one of absolute, unquestioning deference.
"Princess Elyria," he said, his voice a low, resonant baritone that seemed to vibrate through the very ground.
Alina could only stare, her mind a blank slate of confusion and terror. Elyria? He was mistaken. He had to be.
He lifted his head, and the awe in his eyes was now joined by a grim, urgent resolve. "The Prophecy has come to pass," he said, his voice low and heavy with meaning. He rose to his feet, his presence once again commanding. "May the stars have mercy on us all."
He took a step toward her, his expression hardening. "We must get you to the palace immediately."
Alina finally found her voice, a weak, trembling squeak. "Who… who are you?"
He looked at her, and for the first time, she saw the immense weight he carried. "I am Kaelen," he said, his voice clipped and formal. "Captain of the Shadow Guard." He paused, his gaze sweeping the unnaturally quiet forest around them. "And your sister, the Queen, must be informed of your return."