Thea had always believed in structure.In sharp lines. In the law. In the idea that discipline could tame chaos.But as she stood before the Hall of Elders that morning, she felt none of that control. Only the hum beneath her skin—a subtle dissonance, like something ancient was moving again beneath the world she’d built her life upon.“We must speak plainly now,” said Elder Kael, his robes soaked at the hem from the storm that had rolled in at dawn. “If the girl is in the Northwood, then she’s breached the outer veil.”Thea kept her arms folded. “She didn’t breach it. She was called.”Kael scoffed. “Romantic nonsense. We warned you she was unstable.”“She is not unstable,” Thea said, and her voice cut through the room like the edge of a blade. “She is unclaimed. That is different.”Elder Varya leaned forward, her silver hair tied in a knot, her fingers curled around the bone-carved staff she rarely used. “The Between has been silent for decades, Thea. You speak of it like it’s a road
Thea did not sleep that night.She sat by the hearth in her private quarters, a cup of untouched tea cooling in her hands, her cloak pulled tight around her shoulders even though the fire burned strong. Outside, wind scratched against the wooden panes like a restless animal. Somewhere beyond the wall, Elise was moving through forgotten lands, and though Thea didn’t admit it aloud—not to herself, not to the council—she knew the girl would not return the same.If she returned at all.A knock came at her door just before dawn. Two short taps, then one long.A warning. And a request.She rose without a word, unlocked the door, and stepped aside to let Kai enter. He looked like he hadn’t slept either—eyes rimmed in red, a shallow cut still fresh on his cheek, his coat dusted with frost.“She’s crossed into the Northwood,” he said quietly.Thea said nothing.Kai continued, “Joren tracked her as far as the ridge. Beyond that, the mist was too thick. He swears he saw something move in it.”
Where Silence Begins to SpeakThe forest beyond the northern wall had not been touched in a generation.Most called it cursed. Some said it breathed at night. A few believed it was where the dead went when they were forgotten too quickly.Elise didn’t care what it was called.She crossed into it before sunrise, her boots damp with frost, her fingers still cold from a sleep that hadn’t come. No map, no compass. Just the pull.It wasn’t a voice. Not a vision. Just that now-familiar thrum deep in her ribs, like her body remembered something her mind had forgotten.Branches clawed at her sleeves. Roots twisted beneath the moss like veins. The world was quiet here—not with peace, but with pressure. Like the forest itself was holding its breath.She didn’t flinch.She just kept walking.Back in the settlement, the discovery of her absence caused a tremor.Thea was the first to see the empty cot. She didn’t speak as the guards were roused and questioned, as warriors were dispatched to search
The days following the council’s decision blurred together like ash in water.Elise no longer woke with purpose. She stirred from sleep because the sun found her through the thin canvas of her assigned quarters. She dressed because she still remembered what it meant to be part of a structure, even one that had rejected her. She ate little, spoke less, and trained alone with wooden weapons in a clearing no one else visited anymore.Thea had not spoken to her since the council meeting. Not once. Not even in passing. And Elise did not seek her out.What was there to say?That the betrayal hurt more than the exile? That she still dreamed of the day Thea found her broken and bloodied at the forest’s edge and whispered, “You’re safe now”? That, despite everything, she still looked toward her aunt’s tent in the evenings hoping—praying—for even a flicker of hesitation in the oil lamp that meant Thea hadn’t slept yet?No.Elise learned silence quickly. It was one of the few lessons that never
The wind had changed.It came down from the mountains like a warning—cutting through the trees, snapping at the tips of the pines, slipping between rocks with a whisper sharp enough to feel. By the time it reached the valley, the air had grown strange. Heavy. Still.The trees here didn’t grow straight. Their trunks bent in slow, painful curves, bark split open in places where old symbols had been carved and forgotten. No birds nested here. Even the animals passed through quickly, if at all.Tucked between two cliffs where the sun struggled to reach, a wooden hut leaned into the slope like it had long stopped trying to stand upright. Smoke curled from its crooked chimney, faint and sour.Inside, the old man was already awake.He hadn’t slept deeply in years, not since the council branded him a threat and sent him into silence. Sleep, when it came, was thin. He didn’t jolt awake. He never did. He simply opened his eyes, let the quiet settle around him, and waited.And then he fe
The council room smelled like unresolved conflicts and unrest.Chairs made scrapping sounds against the floor as elders filed in one by one, tension resting heavily on every shoulder. For once, even the guards posted at the doors exchanged uneasy glances. Something had shifted in the air over the past few days, something colder than fear.Elise stood to the side of the room with Kai beside her, arms folded tight across her chest. She wasn’t here by invitation, she’d never been in that room by invitation.But Kai made it clear to the guards: if the council wanted to talk about the threat, then the one person who had faced it firsthand would be in the room.Still, it didn’t feel like enough.Elder Harun’s voice echoed through the room. “Let us begin.”Elise scanned the circle. Elder Mena looked worn. Elder Kion, stiff. Others wore expressions carved from stone. And sitting quietly near the edge, her face unreadable and lips pressed together, was Aunt Thea.Her only family. Elise