She was seated in the grand hall of the wyverian castle, the great chamber draped in shadows and flickering with the cold glow of blue fire. The wind whispered through the high open windows, and somewhere far off, the mournful cry of a wyvern split the sky. Her heart clenched at the sound.
Beside her stood her father, King Ozul, his calloused hand resting gently on her arm.
‘We need to go, or we’ll be late,’ he said, his voice rich with the weight of command softened by affection. He wore no armour now, only a simple set of black wyverian robes, their fabric whispering with movement.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked, her voice a thread of confusion. ‘Is Kai here? And Kage?’
‘Kage is walking with your mother,’ King Ozul said, a smile playing on his lips. ‘They’re having one of their morning strolls. And your brother is giving your sister a lesson.’
Mal blinked, her brow furrowing. ‘My sister?’
‘Yes, Mal.’ He laughed, and it was a sound that broke her heart with its warmth. ‘Your sister. Haven. Are you feeling unwell, child? Shall I send for one of the court physicians?’
She went very still.
This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. And yet his voice, his touch, the castle around her, all of it pressed in like a memory made flesh.
‘No,’ she whispered, shaking her head faintly. ‘I’m fine.’
Her eyes dropped to his outstretched hand, patiently waiting for hers. She took it, trembling, her fingers curling around his. And the feel of his skin, warm, alive andhere,unravelled something inside her. She hadn’t realised just how much she had missed him. Missed this.
Tears pricked her eyes. She did not look away.
Mal followed her father through the shadowed halls of the castle, their steps echoing like whispers of the past. Beyond its looming gates, the path unfurled in silence, leading towards the Forest of Silent Cries, a place where the soil remembered every soul it had swallowed.
She hesitated at the threshold, her boots grazing the death-touched earth. A chill crept through her bones, and with each step deeper into the forest, a growing unease twisted in her gut.
In the distance, the crooked silhouette of the Seer’s hut emerged through the trees, its shape too familiar, too still. Mal faltered. The memory wrapped around her like a shroud.
From the gloom, the Seer emerged just as Mal had remembered. Her hair, a cascade of grey feathers, rustled softly in the breeze. Her eyes, yellow as moonlit owls, gleamed with an ancient knowing. Half-woman, half-nightmare, though Malnow understood such illusions were only masks. The Seer’s true face lay hidden beneath layers of shadow and spellcraft.
‘She is growing quickly,’ the Seer murmured, her voice rasping like parchment dragged through ash.
‘She is,’ the king replied, pride softening his usually stern features. But then his brow furrowed, troubled. ‘Will he come back?’
‘Who?’ asked the Seer, her head tilting like a curious bird.
‘The one who placed her here.’
For a brief moment, the Seer’s golden eyes locked with Mal’s.
‘He may return,’ she said slowly. ‘But you needn’t fear. The others cannot reach her. My curse will hold them at bay. She is safe.’
King Ozul gave a solemn nod.
‘Must I keep bringing her here?’ he asked quietly, as though part of him already knew the answer.
A shadow passed through the Seer’s expression. ‘Yes, for now. My blood binds her gift, keeps the wildness tempered. Without it, she will become… ungovernable.’ She reached for Mal’s hand, her touch rough as bark. ‘Come. We must begin.’
Mal wrenched her arm back, panic rising like a tide. ‘Father?’
His expression remained calm, though his voice wavered. ‘It’s all right, Mal. This is to protect you.’
The Seer clicked her tongue, the sound sharp and cold. ‘She will forget. My blood ensures it. Do not fret, King.’
‘No, please—’ Mal cried, but the Seer’s grip was iron. The world tilted as she was dragged into the dim, suffocating hut. The air reeked of herbs, decay, and something older.
She hit the ground hard, her knees striking the dirt floor. ‘Father!’ she screamed, her voice cracking. But the doorwaybehind her was empty.
