ChrisI’m still shaking when we find a dry patch under the gnarled oak.I’m not cold or scared, I’m fucking furious.The forest tried to take him. Again. Like it doesn’t know he’s mine.I watched Elliott circle the same clearing over and over, his steps frantic, his eyes hollowed-out with confusion.Like something had looped his body but left his soul behind. He said it spoke in his voice. I believe him.But I didn’t come running through this gods-damned cursed forest to listen to his voice break in terror.I came to fight for him.He sits on the mossy ground now, legs bent, head dropped between his knees like he’s still trying to get a grip on himself.His shirt clings to him with sweat, his chest is rising and falling too fast. I can see the pulse in his throat.I crouch and pull his face up with two fingers.His eyes are glassy. There’s too much and not enough all at once."Still with me?" I ask, low.He nods.But his lower lip trembles like he’s about to say something that won’t c
ElliottTime has started lying.It doesn’t just pass wrong. It folds. Twists. Bleeds sideways.I’ve looked at the same watch three times today, and it gave me three different answers.Once it said noon. Then a few minutes later, it said 3:17 p.m. The last time I checked, the hands were spinning so fast I thought the glass would crack.But it’s not just the watch.It’s the sun.It races across the canopy, dragging shadows like claws. Then it just... pauses.Stalls in the same place for what feels like hours. The temperature swings wildly with it. Hot, cold. Morning, dusk. Noonlight through trees that should be deep in shadow.I’m trying not to panic and mostly succeeding. But I’ve lost the path twice now.Not like I took a wrong turn, like I blinked and it wasn’t where I left it.Right now, I’m walking along a stretch of trail I know we’ve taken before.I remember the curve of the broken birch trunk, the little pile of sun-bleached stones someone stacked like offerings.But when I reac
ScarlettThe cave mouth yawns like a secret waiting to be swallowed.It isn’t marked on any map.We stumbled on it by accident, or maybe the forest meant for us to find it. Either way, I feel the pull before I even see it.Erik says nothing when I veer off the path. He just follows, watching my back like he always does.The air inside is cooler. Our footsteps echo too loudly, our breathing is the only audible sound.It smells of moss and age and old blood, long since dried.And something else. Gold.Not literally, but something in my magic stirs. A pulse in the pit of my stomach, sharp and sudden. Like recognition.“Here,” I whisper, stepping closer to the far wall.Erik raises a hand, conjuring soft mage-light from his palm. It flickers, then steadies, revealing the stone wall etched with old murals.My breath catches.They’re wolves. But not like the ones we know. These are tall, half-shifted creatures with glowing eyes and marks carved into their skin. Not scars or tattoos. Brands.
IlsaCaelan’s smirk pisses me off.Not just because he’s smug. Not just because he knows something I don’t. But because that damned smirk is the only thing I’ve been able to think about for the last six hours.“I don’t need your riddles,” I snap, whirling on him. The others are further ahead, just out of earshot.We’ve paused near another stone circle. Rune-carved and humming with quiet menace.The kind of place that doesn’t forget you.“I’m not offering riddles,” Caelan says smoothly, stepping closer. “I’m offering truth. You just don’t like how it sounds.”“You don’t know what I like.”“Don’t I?”He’s too close. That infuriating silver hair gleams like moonlight, his golden skin haloed by whatever magic clings to this place.His eyes flash like starlight. Too sharp, too knowing.I shove him, but he doesn’t stumble. Just smiles wider.“Careful, little wildling,” he murmurs. “Push me too hard and I’ll push back.”“Why do you always look at me like that?” I ask through gritted teeth.“
OmniscientIt starts with a single crack.Not thunder. Not yet. Just the forest holding its breath before the sky suddenly splits open.This lightning doesn’t flicker, it hunts.Bolts slam into the earth with furious precision, carving trenches of steam into moss and root.The clouds churn above like something angry is watching through them, teeth bared behind each strike.“Move!” Scarlett shouts, hauling Erik toward the treeline.But it doesn’t matter. The lightning follows them.It doesn’t scatter randomly across the sky. It targets them.Elliott grabs Chris by the wrist and yanks him behind a boulder just as a bolt annihilates the path where they were standing.Ilsa shouts something which is lost to the roar, and Caelan, unshaken, his silver eyes gleaming, steps into the center of the chaos like he was born there.He lifts his hands and the wind bends around him.Power rushes through the clearing like breath through lungs, ancient and electric.A ripple of magic spins out from Cael
IlsaWe should be sleeping. But something about this clearing hums under my skin like static.Like a storm trying to crawl out of my bones.The others are settling. Elliott’s wrapped up in Chris, their limbs a mess of sweat and exhaustion. Scarlett and Erik are talking in low voices near the perimeter. Soft enough for the sound to blend with the sighing of the trees.Caelan is off by himself again, watching the forest with a frown that never seems to leave his beautiful face lately.And me? I’m pacing.Because something here is pulling at me again.The air smells strange. Like iron and ash and old flowers.The moss feels too soft under my boots, like it might melt if I press too hard.I pass a cluster of stones, half-sunken into the ground. Ordinary at first glance, but one of them catches the firelight just so, and I freeze.There’s a rune carved into it.I crouch to inspect it more closelyIt’s deep and old and not just for decoration.It pulses faintly. With light and a strangely s