I've been running for a while now—footsteps echoing in the night, splashing through rain-soaked puddles that littered the forest around me. The moon, half-filled and hanging low, glowed an eerie shade of yellow. Odd. It's usually a soft red this time of year.
In the distance, I can hear the howlers and hunters closing in. My task is simple: don't get caught before sunrise. This is my final trial—my last chance to be accepted into The Verdant Spires, the most prestigious magic school in the kingdom of Alveře.
Just my luck to be hunted by the best trackers the royal guard has to offer. But I'll be fine. They don't know my hiding place. And their detection spells don't work on me tonight. I just need to make it to the cavern.
I slowed my pace, smearing mud on my long silver hair to dull its shine and mask my body heat. Even my amethyst eyes, once bright with excitement, had dimmed with fatigue. I possessed more magic than most—too much, in fact—but my power was volatile. Large spells had a habit of backfiring.
The cave loomed ahead, and as I stepped inside, memories flooded in. My mother, Se'nia, and I had often come here to escape the noise of the world while she conducted research. Almost no one knew of this place. It sat perfectly aligned with the northern and southern castles, right where the equator and prime meridian crossed.
But tonight, it was just me. Se'nia had vanished ten years ago, on a night much like this one. Strange—but that didn't matter now.
"Mutnem-Mulos," I whispered, invoking the spell my mother had taught me. The fresh muddy footprints vanished with a faint shimmer.
I stepped deeper into the cavern. "Somul," I murmured again, and a soft light flickered to life in my palm, filling the space with a pale glow.
Careful. Quiet. I waited.
A minute…
Two minutes…
Footsteps.
"Xon," I breathed, extinguishing the light.
Hunter 1: "She couldn't have come in here. Her tracks stop cold at the treeline."
Hunter 2: "Then why's Bisky growlin', huh? You think she just blinked outta the woods again?"
Hunter 1: "Stop whining. Let's check inside before you start shouting ghosts."
Hunter 2: "Fine, fine. But if she jumps us, you're the one explaining it to the captain."
My heart pounded. I pressed myself flat against the cold stone wall, breath shallow.
Then—
A faint green glow pulsed behind me.
I turned. The light was seeping from the rock itself, slow at first, then stronger—green veins spreading through the stone like living roots. The shape they formed was unmistakable. A door.
My breath caught. The air around it shimmered, humming in rhythm with my pulse.
There was never a door here before. Not once in all the times my mother brought me here.
No time to think. I slipped inside and closed it behind me.
"I'll apologize to whoever lives here later," I whispered. "Right now, I just can't be caught. I'll lose the trial."
Moments passed. Then minutes. Silence. I pressed my ear to where the door had been. Nothing.
"Maybe it's safe now?" I turned back and reached for the handle—only to find smooth stone. The door was gone.
"What? No… that's impossible."
"Somul," I whispered. Nothing.
"Somul!" Still nothing.
My pulse quickened. "Oicangi!" — a fire spell. Dead silence. Not even a spark. My magic wasn't working.
I steadied myself and looked around. The cavern was the same… yet not. The air felt thicker, the walls faintly humming as if alive.
"Maybe I imagined it," I muttered. "I should get going. It's almost sunrise." But when I stepped toward the exit, something was wrong. The cave seemed… backwards.
The rain was gone. The ground was dry. And the moment I emerged, my breath caught in my throat.
A strange city sprawled before me, vast and silent. Its buildings were unnaturally smooth, glowing faintly beneath the twilight. The air carried a sharp, bitter scent—like stone burned too long in the forge. No trace of soil or rain. No life at all.
I took one hesitant step forward, boots scraping against stone that wasn't stone. Everything felt wrong—too quiet, too clean, too still.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, my mother's warning echoed, though I couldn't remember her ever speaking it aloud: Some doors aren't meant to open, Sa'ha.
I lifted my gaze toward the horizon.
The sun wasn't rising.
It was setting.