Storm slows to a trot as we venture deeper into the forest. The usual sounds of life are remarkably absent, no chirping birds, no fluttering sprites. The silence is unsettling, a stifling stillness that blankets the woods. Only the leaves crunching under Storm’s hooves and the occasional snapping of a branch can be heard. Nymeria and Anika are as silent as the shadows, living up to their name: Ghosts of the Evergreens.
My eyes dart around, searching for any sign of movement, but like me, the forest seems to hold its breath. I can feel it, a tingling unease crawling under my skin, like an itch I can’t quite reach.
“You sure it’s this way?” Nerves stop me from speaking any louder than a whisper.
Storm bobs his head, letting out a loud huff of air.
“Okay. I trust you,” I breathe.
Storm is an extremely moody and sensitive horse.
The last thing I want is to offend him and be left stranded here all by myself. Deep down, I know he wouldn’t do that. Not now. We’ve developed a strong connection since my arrival—something unspoken. There’s a mutual understanding between us. He reads me as much as I try to read him. And though he’s still unpredictable, even dramatic at times, I’ve learned to respect that part of him.
As we weave through the trees, I watch as orange and brown leaves float from above in slow, methodical motions, gently landing on the forest floor. The Autumn Court is really beautiful. I haven’t seen the other courts, only the Winter one, but I think each holds their title and beauty in their own unique way.
A rustle from above sends a shiver down my spine and I lift my gaze to the tangled branches above. The canopy sways, shadows shifting in ways that feel just a little too deliberate. Were there any bellowigs in this part of the forest?
I really didn’t want to be fending off one of those carnivorous nightmares right now.
Tightening my grip on Storm’s mane and blow out a slow, measured breath, trying to steady my pulse.
I scan the treetops once more. I wasn’t in the mood to become someone’s evening snack.
The forest grows darker and darker the further we go. The warmth of the sun completely gone. I lift my hood up over my head, hoping to ward away the sudden chill in the air. In this part of the forest, the trees are gnarled and twisted, the thickest dark canopy blocks out all light.
Nervously, I swallow, and my fingers grow stiff the tighter I grip onto Storm’s mane. Now that my anger has faded, I’m beginning to regret not having brought someone along forcompany. This is probably not the smartest idea I’ve had, but my guilt and loyalty to my friend outweigh all logical thoughts.
The path narrows, the trees growing denser and the underbrush thickening until it becomes nearly impassable. Storm slows, his powerful strides faltering as the ground becomes uneven, tangled with roots and low-hanging branches. Finally, he comes to a complete stop.
I lean forward and pat his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingers. “She’s close, isn’t she?” I murmur, more to myself than to him. Storm bobs his head in response, his dark mane flicking elegantly with each movement. The simple gesture draws a smile from me. He’s always been able to make me smile, even in moments like this.
“Alright then,” I whisper, taking a deep breath to calm the rush of nerves that churn inside me. The air is thick with the smell of damp earth and pine, the forest quiet except for the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze. I grip Storm’s mane for support as I swing my leg over his back and slide down. My feet hit the ground hard, and I stumble backward a few steps, my legs still shaky from the ride. Nymeria is there, stopping me from tumbling on to my ass.
I wince, steadying myself on a nearby tree, wishing—not for the first time—that I could move with the same effortless grace as everyone else. My movements are clumsy and awkward in comparison. They would have leaped from the horse as swiftly and naturally as a dancer. But me? I’ve always been fighting to keep up, to make it look like I belong.
I cast a quick glance at Storm, who’s watching me with those knowing eyes. I exhale in a rush and straighten, forcing my legs to cooperate as I begin to gather my bearings.
Suddenly, I hear the beat of wings overhead and instinctively look up, though the dense canopy of trees blocks my view. The rhythmic sound is unmistakable; Raiden is searching for me. My breath catches, and for a second, everything inside me stalls—then rushes forward all at once. He’s close, but I also know why Zaria chose this spot to hide. The forest here is a labyrinth, its thick foliage and twisted paths make it difficult to navigate, especially for someone of Raiden’s size.
I move carefully, each step deliberately placed to avoid making too much noise. The forest floor is a tangle of roots and fallen leaves, concealing potential hazards. I can feel the gentle hum of my magic resonating through my skin, as if it’s connecting with the plants and trees surrounding me. It feels as though the ancient magic of the forest yearns for a connection. All around, there is a distinct energy, a gentle hum that resonates in the air.
Nervously, I grip the edges of my cloak and close my eyes, extending my senses to the forest. Instantly, I feel their vibrant life energy enveloping me and gently caressing my own. Waves of magic roll over my body, and I can sense each and every life around me. But among all the heartbeats, there is one specific rhythm I am searching for.
I let my magic glide effortlessly over the rugged rocks and gentle mounds, finally coming to rest at the base of a towering tree a few hundred yards away. The enormous tree stands tall, its gnarled and twisted trunk reaching toward the sky. Like a second skin, its bark is completely covered in a vibrant green moss. In the midst of its foliage, Zaria’s glowing amber eyes blink, casting an otherworldly glow in the darkness.
I open my eyes and smile. She isn’t far, and I know the path.
“I’ll be back soon.”I say, giving him a gentle pat.
Storm nudges me lightly, and the sound of his soft breaths fills the air. I immediately feel the tears welling up in my eyes, blurring the scene before me. The sadness in his dark obsidian eyes mirrors the void left by Maxon’s absence. Suddenly, as if sensing my distress, Nymeria and Anika trot into the area, their paws creating a soft thud against the ground. They surround me, warm fur brushing against my skin, enveloping me in a comforting embrace.
‘We will follow.’
‘No, stay with Storm,’I answer.
Like vigilant sentinels, both wolves sit on their haunches, their ears pricked up, ready to react to any sound. My chest fills with a loving warmth as I stare at each of them. “I’ll be back soon with Zaria.”
Following the subtle pull of my magic, I turn and stride in the direction it guides me. The sensation is both familiar and foreign—like an old friend whispering directions only I can hear.
