ALTHEA The forest collapses behind me. A soundless scream—wind tearing through leaves, light bursting from the roots up like veins filled with fire. I’m running, bleeding, choking on my breath, the seed clutched so tightly in my hand I think it might crack. And just when the world feels like it’s folding in on itself— Everything stops. I hit solid ground hard, knees scraping against cold stone. My vision spins. I blink up at a sky that’s no longer covered by ancient branches. The Mirror Woods are gone. I’m back at the trial grounds. But I’m not alone. Coughs echo to my left. A sob to my right. I turn my head slowly, limbs trembling. Elise is doubled over, hands pressed to her face, shaking like a leaf. Her blond braid is half undone, dirt and blood streaking her once-pristine robes. Marcy staggers to her feet, her jaw clenched. Her clothes are shredded down one arm, and blood darkens the fabric. But she’s alive. Breathing. Caroline lies facedown a few feet away. Her fingers t
ALTHEAThe path the raven showed me twists and narrows, winding deeper than I ever imagined the Mirror Woods could go. The trees grow older here. Their bark is gnarled and silver, their roots thick as wolves’ backs. The forest hums with power, old and pulsing beneath my feet. Every step feels like a choice. Every breath like a question.Then I see it.The clearing opens suddenly, like a breath held too long finally released. And in the center stands the Weeping Tree.It’s massive, taller than any tree I’ve seen, its black bark cracked and weeping silver sap. The branches stretch high and wide, tangled like veins across the sky. Beneath it, the ground glows faintly, marked with ancient runes too old to read. The air is colder here. Heavy. Sacred.My heart stumbles.Because I’m not alone.Caroline stands at the base of the tree, arms crossed, her posture calm. But her eyes, sharp, calculating, give her away.“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” she says smoothly, brushing a leaf from her coat
ALTHEAI wake with a jolt, my skin burning hot, my body shaking like a leaf in the wind. My breath rasps in and out, shallow and sharp. The world swims before my eyes, trees bending, twisting, dancing like shadows in a fire. My throat feels dry as ash.I reach out blindly, fingers digging into the cold earth. Caroline is gone. No trace of her beside me, just crushed grass where she might’ve slept and a bitter scent in the air, like betrayal.I try to stand, but my legs won’t listen. My feet are bare, I must’ve kicked off my boots during the fever. The ground bites at my soles, rough and freezing. I stumble forward, arms stretched out like a broken puppet. The forest spins. I blink, trying to see straight, but the trees blur together.I walk, or maybe I crawl. Time doesn’t feel real anymore.Leaves whisper my name. Althea. Althea. Mocking me. Pulling me deeper.My breath hitches when I see him.Asher.He stands beneath a crooked tree, one hand clutching his side. Blood stains his shirt
ALTHEAThe dawn seeps through the tangled branches like pale fingers, brushing my closed eyelids. I wake suddenly, a sharp sting crawling up my arm. Cold sweat slicks my skin as I pull back my sleeve and freeze.A deep, jagged wound cuts across my forearm—red and raw, fresh and bleeding. But I don’t remember falling, or being attacked. The forest must have done this while I slept. It feeds on weakness, on fear. I swallow hard, tasting copper in my mouth, and bite back the rising panic.I force myself to breathe slow and steady. I can’t afford to lose control.I press my hand against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, then look around. The trees stand tall and silent, shadows curling at their feet. The forest watches, waiting for me to falter.I have to move.My stomach growls. I haven’t eaten since before I entered the woods.Finding food and water feels urgent now—more than just survival. It’s a lifeline.I remind myself of the goals I set before: find water, find food, keep mov
ALTHEAThe instant the cold mist of Mirror Woods wraps around me, I feel the forest shift beneath my feet. The moment I step through that swirling wall of fog, I am no longer surrounded by others. I’m alone, dropped into silence broken only by my own breath and the soft rustling of leaves.A faint pulse of fear flutters in my chest, but I push it down. I have to be strong. I have to survive.I pull out a small piece of chalk from my pack and mark a symbol on the nearest tree, a simple arrow pointing back toward the way I came. If the woods twist and turn, I need to know where I started. I mark every tree I pass, careful not to lose my trail.Next, I set small goals for myself to stay grounded. “Make it to the clearing. Find water. Rest before nightfall.” Step by step, I tell myself. One moment at a time.At first, the forest feels like an ordinary place, trees tall and gray, roots twisting like sleeping snakes. But soon, strange things start happening.The trees seem to shift ever so
ALTHEAThe throne room is colder than I expected.Stone walls loom high above, echoing with the quiet shuffle of footsteps as all the girls gather. We stand in neat rows, eyes on the throne, waiting. The air is heavy, filled with that strange mixture of boredom and anxiety that always comes before the king appears. I tell myself it’s just a routine check-in, a chance to show progress on our projects.But the moment the king steps out, the silence deepens. His face is unreadable, sharp shadows falling across his features in the dim light. He doesn’t smile or scowl. He just looks at us, calm and steady, like a storm waiting to break.“When I call you here today,” he begins, voice low and slow, “it is not for your usual progress report.”A cold knot forms in my stomach.His eyes lock on me for a second, or maybe it’s just my nerves, and then he continues. “The next trial you face will not test your magic. Nor your politics or your ability to persuade.”He pauses, his gaze sweeping over e