And then the stalker pulled away.
Something stepped from the retreating shadow—no longer formless, no longer just a threat. The shadow, the Invisible Stalker, had becomeme. But not Lioran. Not the knight. It had becomeGuinevere.
She stood there in the clearing like a revenant conjured from memory, as naked as the day I was born. My white hair spilled down her back in a waterfall of moonlight. Violet eyes—myeyes—locked on mine. My own expression—shock, fear, disbelief—reflected back at me as though I were staring into a mirror.
It hadn’t just taken my shape.
It had taken my truth.
And Lance—Lance was suddenly at my side, panting. As I turned to him, he turned to her and just stood there for a few seconds, staring at her. Atme. The real me.
My heartbeat roared in my ears. I couldn't breathe. The lies I'd built so carefully, so cleverly, stood exposed in one single moment—unmasked by a creature of shadow and memory.
And Lance...
He was still staring.
“It’s—that’s—” Lance stammered, his composure shattering.
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’tmove. My throat locked around a breath that refused to come, terror knotting in my stomach.
The shadow-Guinevere smiled with my face—a perfect imitation, down to the scar near my temple. It tilted its head, studying Lance’s reaction with a cruel sort of satisfaction, clearly enjoying the chaos it had unleashed.
“The Invisible Stalker must have seen her in the forest,” Lance said suddenly, his voice gaining strength as he latched onto whatever theory had birthed itself in his mind. “It's the white-haired woman Arthur’s been searching for—the Stalker must’ve glimpsed her and taken her form.”
Relief hit me like cool water, even as disbelief overcame me. Lance had drawn his own conclusion, and that conclusion wasn't anywhere near the truth. He believed what he wanted to—Arthur’s obsession made the perfect cover. And suddenly I was beyond grateful she was naked because if she'd appeared as I was now—wearing armor, he would have fully understood—that she was me beneath the Lioran disguise.
"Then she's here?" I asked, looking up at him. "In this forest?"
He nodded. "She must be."
Before either of us could speak again, the Stalker shimmered. My form—white hair, violet eyes, every feminine curve I’d hidden—melted away like wax under flame. Darkness reclaimed the creature as it stretched into mist and disappeared between two ancient oaks.
“It’s fleeing!” Lance shouted, already giving chase.
I followed, panic knotting in my chest. That had been too close, way too close. The Stalker hadn’t just seen my true form—it hadbroadcastedit. If Lance had made the connection…
But there was no time for such thoughts.
The Stalker was leading us deeper into the Whispering Wilds, where trees knitted together into a canopy so thick that sunlight barely touched the ground. Perfect terrain for a creature of darkness.
“We have to separate it from the shadows,” Lance called. “Otherwise, it can vanish indefinitely.”
“It’s trying to lure us into the dark,” I added, struggling to keep up with his pace.
The Stalker moved like liquid shadow, occasionally glimpsed between trees, its form dissolving and reforming as it flowed across the terrain without leaving a trace.
An idea struck me then, and I stopped short.
“Lance—wait!”
He skidded to a halt. “What are you—”
“I have an idea.” I was already summoning my magic.
Water rose from the damp soil, eager in the wake of the storm. I guided it upward, splitting it into countless droplets suspended midair, high above us. Each one caught the low light in tiny prisms, scattering it through the forest in a web of rainbow gleam.
I released the droplets slowly, allowing them to drift downward like a gentle field of stars falling to the ground. Thedroplets found their mark, clinging to the Stalker, coating its outline with glittering brilliance.
