Dawn came grey and cold. A mist clung to the palace, softening edges, muffling sounds. The world felt like a half-remembered dream.
Evan met Emma at the postern gate—a small, rarely used entrance hidden behind the kitchens, tucked away in a corner of the palace that most people forgot existed. Finch was there, looking even more pinched than usual, his breath misting in the cold air.
"Your guide, Kael," Finch said, gesturing to a man leaning against the wall with the casual ease of someone who'd been waiting for hours and didn't mind.
Kael was... compact. Not tall, but built like someone had compressed a larger person into a smaller frame—all muscle and efficiency. He had dark hair tied back, eyes the color of old flint, and the expression of someone who found everything mildly disappointing. His clothes were worn and practical, his boots scarred from years of travel.
"Horses are ready," Kael said without preamble. His voice was rough, like stones grinding together. "Supplies loaded. Weather's turning. We should move."
Evan looked at the two horses waiting. Sturdy mountain breeds, loaded with packs that looked professionally secured. A third, smaller horse for Emma, also loaded.
"No carriage?" Evan asked.
"Carriages don't do well on mountain passes. Or in Silent Wood." Kael mounted his horse with economical grace, one fluid motion. "You ride?"
"I... can." Evan's experience was limited to gentle trails at Carter Manor. Not mountain passes. Not in cold weather. Not with a guide who looked like he judged everyone.
"You'll learn." Kael didn't smile. "Or you'll fall. Either way, we move."
Emma mounted her horse easily, comfortably, like she'd been riding since birth. "Charming guide you found, Finch."
"The best available on short notice," Finch said stiffly. "He knows the northern routes. He's familiar with... unusual travel conditions."
"Meaning he's taken mages to the Silent Wood before?" Evan asked.
Kael's expression didn't change. "I've taken people to the edge. What happens after isn't my concern."
Cheery.
Finch handed Evan a sealed letter. "From Her Majesty. To be opened when you reach the Weaver."
Evan tucked it into his coat. The paper was thick, expensive, and seemed to pulse with restrained energy. "Any last advice?"
"Don't die." Finch's eye twitched. "The paperwork would be terrible."
Evan mounted his horse. The animal shifted under him, then settled. It was a calm, steady creature with patient eyes. Probably chosen for its tolerance of inexperienced riders.
They rode out through the postern gate, the iron hinges groaning. The mist swallowed them almost immediately, the palace fading into grey nothingness behind them.
For a time, they rode in silence. The city was just waking up—smoke rising from chimneys, early workers moving through fog-shrouded streets, the distant sound of a baker opening his shop. No one paid them any attention. Just more travelers in a city full of them.
As they reached the city gates, Evan glanced back. The palace was a ghost in the mist, towers disappearing into low clouds, its windows dark eyes watching them go.
He wondered if he'd see it again. And if he did, what he'd be when he returned.
They passed through the gates. The road stretched north, into hills that became mountains. The air grew colder. The mist thinned, revealing a sky the color of wet slate.
They'd been riding for maybe an hour when Kael said, "We're being followed."
Evan turned. The road behind them was empty. "Are you sure?"
"Three riders. Keeping distance. Not trying to hide, exactly. Just... following." Kael's eyes were on the road ahead, but Evan could tell he was tracking everything behind them.
Emma glanced back. "Could be bandits."
"Could be." Kael didn't sound concerned. "Or could be someone who doesn't want you reaching the Silent Wood."
They picked up the pace. The horses' hooves clattered on stone, the sound echoing in the cold morning air.
The followers kept pace.
After another hour, as the road began to climb into foothills, Kael called a halt at a stream. "Water the horses. Stretch. They'll catch up here."
"Shouldn't we keep moving?" Evan asked.
"They'll just catch up later. Better to face them on ground of our choosing." Kael dismounted, moving with the quiet efficiency of someone who had done this before. Many times.
Evan and Emma dismounted. The stream was clear and cold, rushing over stones. The air smelled of pine and damp earth and the first hint of snow.
They didn't have to wait long.
Three riders emerged from the trees. Not bandits. Soldiers. Royal guards, in fact, wearing the queen's colors—crimson and gold, polished armor, disciplined formation.
Their leader dismounted. He was young, serious-looking, with the bearing of someone used to being obeyed. His hand rested on his sword hilt, not threateningly, but ready.
"Lord Carter," he said, bowing slightly. "Her Majesty sent us. With a message."
"I already have a message from Her Majesty," Evan said, touching the letter in his coat.
"This one is... more urgent." The guard approached, holding out a sealed scroll. "She requests—orders—that you return to the palace. Immediately."
Evan took the scroll. The seal was the queen's, but broken and re-sealed with plain wax. Strange.
He broke the seal. The message was brief, in the queen's hand:
"Return at once. The situation has changed. The artifact beneath the palace shows signs of awakening. Your presence is required for containment. This takes precedence over all else."
Evan looked at the guard. "When did this arrive?"
"Last night. We rode through the night to catch you."
Emma read the message over his shoulder. "Convenient timing."
Kael, who had been watching silently, said, "The seal's been tampered with."
The guard's hand went to his sword. "I don't know what you mean."
"The queen's seal is pressed with a specific signet. Leaves a particular impression." Kael moved closer. His movements were casual, but his eyes were sharp. "That seal was made with a copy. A good one. But a copy."
The guard's companions dismounted, hands on their weapons.
Evan looked at the message again. The handwriting was the queen's. But... something was off. The slant was wrong. The pressure uneven. The letters too perfect.
A forgery.
"Who sent you?" Evan asked.
"Her Majesty—"
"Try again." Emma's voice was cold. "I've seen the queen's hand for years. This is close. But not perfect."
The guard hesitated. His eyes flicked to his companions, then back to Evan. Then his expression hardened.
"Lord Gereon sent us. With Lady Cordelia's support." He straightened, the pretense gone. "They believe your journey is... ill-advised."
"Why?"
"Because what sleeps beneath the palace is WAKING. And they believe you're the key. Not to containing it. To... something else."
Kael had his own sword out now. It was a simple, practical weapon, well-used, unadorned. "You have three choices. Turn back peacefully. Try to take him by force. Or die here."
The guard looked at his two companions. Then at Evan. Then at Kael's sword, which looked very capable.
"Lord Gereon said to tell you: 'The Heart of Night remembers the Carter blood. And it hungers.'"
The words hung in the cold air.
The Heart of Night. The artifact Mira had found references to. The thing that needed quarterly maintenance.
Awakening.
Hungering.
Evan made a decision. "Tell Lord Gereon I'm going to the Weaver. To learn what I need to know. To understand what I am. And what's beneath the palace."
"And if the palace falls before you return?"
"Then it falls." Evan mounted his horse. "But I won't be a key in someone else's lock. Not even the queen's."
The guard stared at him. Then nodded once, sharply. "I'll deliver your message. But know this: others will come. Not asking. Taking."
"We'll be ready," Kael said.
The guards mounted and rode back the way they'd come, disappearing into the trees.
For a moment, no one spoke. The stream babbled. The wind sighed in the pines.
"Well," Emma said finally. "That was dramatic."
"Just the beginning," Kael said, sheathing his sword. "If they're sending forgers now, they'll send worse later."
"Who's 'they'?" Evan asked.
"People who are afraid. Of what you are. Of what you might learn. Of what might WAKE UP if you're not there to keep it sleeping." Kael mounted his horse. "We should move. Faster now. They won't be the last."
They rode on, the road climbing steadily, the air growing colder with every mile.
Evan looked back once, toward the palace, now hidden behind hills and mist.
The Heart of Night. Awakening. Hungering.
And he was the key.
The question was: to lock? Or to unlock?
And did he get to choose?
***