The forest seemed endless. Shadows stretched and twisted around me as I stumbled over roots and rocks, every step echoing my fear and frustration. My chest still burned from the screaming, from the pounding on the gates that had refused to hear me. I had shouted my truth into the wind, and the wind had ignored me.
I paused, leaning against a thick tree, letting the rough bark scrape my palms. My legs trembled, weak from running, from the adrenaline, from everything I hadn't allowed myself to feel before. Tears had dried on my cheeks, leaving faint tracks that glittered in the faint light filtering through the canopy.
Why hadn't anyone believed me? Why hadn't my powers—if I had any—revealed themselves when I needed them most? Every Arcane in the kingdom had something. Everyone else could bend elements, shape reality, summon energy. Me? Nothing. I had nothing to show for myself but fear, uselessness, and exile.
A sudden rustle in the trees made me jump, heart lurching. A fox? A deer? Something darker? I squinted into the shadows. Nothing moved—at least, nothing visible—but the hairs on my arms stood up. The forest was alive in a way the castle never was, and it wasn't gentle.
I sank to the ground, knees drawn to my chest. My hood fell forward, hiding my face, and I let myself cry again, silent this time, letting the forest swallow the sound. I was alone. Truly alone. Not just without friends, but without family, without the King's protection, without Lydia by my side. Even the whispers of the townspeople—condemnation and pity—felt distant now.
I stayed there for what felt like hours, listening to the wind whisper through the branches, the soft hum of life in the shadows. And then, somewhere deep in the silence, I heard it: a faint pulse. Like a heartbeat.
I froze.
It wasn't loud, and it didn't sound like anything I recognized. But it was there. Rhythmic. Persistent. Alive.
Curiosity, sharp and unwelcome, pricked at me. I pushed myself up and followed the sound, stepping carefully over roots and mossy stones. The further I went, the clearer it became—an odd glow, barely visible at first, pulsing faintly through the darkness. I slowed, unsure if I should approach.
"Who… who's there?" I whispered, my voice shaking. No answer came, only the soft pulsing of light in the distance.
I took another step, and then another. My heart raced in tandem with the glow, a strange rhythm that seemed almost like it was calling me forward. Fear battled with curiosity, but something inside me—something I hadn't acknowledged in a long time—urged me to keep moving.
Branches snapped under my feet. The pulse seemed to respond, flickering brighter, almost as if it were alive. I blinked. Could it be magic? Could I feel it? No, not feel—it wasn't inside me yet. But… I recognized it. In a way that frightened me more than anything else, I recognized it.
The forest opened suddenly, revealing a small clearing. The glow came from a crystal lodged in the center, pulsing like a heartbeat, casting eerie shadows across the trees. I stepped closer, mesmerized.
A voice whispered in the wind, soft and melodic, almost like a memory. "Sylvia…"
I spun around, panic flaring. No one was there. Only the trees swayed gently in a breeze I couldn't feel.
"Who's there?" I demanded, my voice stronger than I felt.
The crystal pulsed again, brighter this time, and the whispers returned, fragmented but unmistakable. "Sylvia… you are more than they believe. You are… more."
I fell to my knees, overwhelmed. Could this… this be real? My powers? Some fragment of magic reaching out to me? I had been so powerless, and now—something stirred.
Tears streamed down my face, but this time they weren't only for fear. They were for hope, fragile and frightening, a spark that refused to die.
I stayed there for hours—or maybe minutes, time had no meaning—just watching the crystal pulse, letting its glow wash over me. And somewhere deep down, something shifted. Something awakened.
I didn't know what it meant, or how, or why. But I knew one thing with certainty: I wasn't finished. Not yet.
I rose to my feet, chest tight, eyes wide, hair tangled, and looked back toward the distant lights of the kingdom. Somewhere behind those gates, people had doubted me. They had banished me. They had told me I wasn't enough.
But here, in the forest, with the pulse of something alive and strange beneath my fingertips… I could feel possibility. I could feel potential. And I would find it, or I would die trying.
One step forward, and the forest swallowed me again.
Sylvias boots crunched against the frost-hardened dirt, each step loud in the quiet forest. Mist curled around gnarled roots and jagged rocks like fingers trying to reach her. The trees stretched high above, their branches tangling into dark shapes that seemed almost alive. Every rustle of leaves made her heart thump faster. She tightened her quiver and adjusted the hood of her cloak; the wind tried to steal it, tugging at the fabric as if warning her to turn back.
She paused, listening. A whisper drifted on the breeze. Sylvia… Her pulse jumped. The forest had always been alive, but now it felt different—watchful, almost… waiting.
A crack of a twig behind her made her spin, bow drawn in one fluid motion. Nothing. Just the shadows twisting and swaying in the moonlight. She exhaled slowly, forcing herself not to tremble. The Grims had taken her kingdom, and everywhere she went, danger seemed to follow like a shadow she could never outrun.
Hours passed. The forest opened into a narrow path flanked by jagged rocks, the mist curling low along the ground. Sylvia's stomach growled, but hunger was nothing compared to fear. Moonlight glinted off something metallic half-buried in the dirt. She crouched, straining her eyes.
From the shadows stepped a figure. Tall, wiry, moving with the grace of a predator. His eyes glinted amber, like molten gold. A bow rested across his back.
"You're Sylvia," he said, voice calm but not unkind. "I've been looking for you."
Sylvia's hand tightened on her bow, her fingers brushing the arrow as if it were a promise. "And you are?"
"Call me Kael," he said. "We don't have much time. The Grims are closer than you think."
Sylvia studied him, every instinct screaming caution. Deep down, a flicker of hope wanted to spark—but she refused to let it. I can't trust him. Not yet.
Kael stepped closer, his movements careful and measured. "If you want to reclaim your kingdom, you'll need more than courage. You'll need allies… and power you've never imagined."
In a fluid motion, Sylvia grabbed her bow, nocked an arrow, and pulled it back in a single swoop, aiming squarely at him. "And why should I trust you?" she demanded, her eyes sharp as the arrowhead.
Kael raised his hands slowly. "Because I'm an outcast too. I was banished. They didn't want me in my home either. I've been running ever since… just like you."
Sylvia didn't lower the bow. "Running doesn't make you my friend—or harmless," she said, voice steady, every muscle tense.
"I know," Kael said, his tone calm. "I'm not asking for your trust. I just want to help you survive. That's all I can promise."
Her arrow stayed trained on him, her heart thundering in her chest. Slowly, she allowed herself to take a cautious step forward, never breaking eye contact. I won't be fooled. Not now.
Kael nodded slightly, as if he had expected her mistrust. "Fair. I'll earn it… if you'll let me."
The forest seemed to close in around them, branches reaching out like skeletal hands. Every step forward was measured and cautious. Sylvia kept her bow ready, scanning the shadows for threats. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something she couldn't name—a metallic tang, like danger waiting just out of sight.
A howl echoed in the distance, sharp and ragged, making her stomach tighten. Kael didn't flinch.
"They're close," he said softly.
Sylvia's eyes narrowed. "Who's close? The Grims?"
Kael's gaze flicked to the mist-shrouded trees. "Not yet. But they will be soon."
Sylvia's grip on her bow tightened. She didn't lower it. She didn't relax. If Kael wanted to survive alongside her, he would have to prove it—every step, every decision, every word.
The path wound deeper into the forest, mist thickening, shadows twisting like living things. Sylvia moved cautiously, never letting Kael approach too closely, every sense on high alert. Her heart pounded, but a spark of determination burned brighter: she would survive. She would fight. And if she had to do it alone, she would.
Somewhere beneath the tension, a faint thought flickered. Maybe Kael wasn't a threat. But she wouldn't know yet. Not until he earned her trust—if he could.