No other but she dared come here.
Dyna shivered, not sure if the chilly air or the notion caused it. She adjusted her hood against the cold and tightened the cloak around her shoulders, letting its enchantments reassure her. The runes did well to conceal her presence as long as she didn’t make a sound. And she had the strange sense to be quiet.
Hilos. She turned the land’s name in her head, trying to recall where she had heard it. It must have surfaced in her studies.
Her aching feet begged for rest, but Lykos Peak shouldn’t be too far now. Dyna stopped mid-step, hearing a new sound not belonging to nature. She strained to listen past the rustling of the leaves in the breeze.
Music.
It was such a beautiful and heartrending melody that could only come from a flute. Something about the tune was familiar, drawing from her a memory of her mother singing a similar song. The tune became clearer as she followed it, forming a deep calling she had to answer. But then the melody reached its end and faded among the trees.
She paused, waiting for another song but none came. The longer she stood there, the more she wondered if she had truly heard it. Was this a trick of the forest?
Dyna backed up a step at the thought. What would have happened if she had located the minstrel?
She turned to go back the way she came only to realize she didn’t know which way that was. She spun in place, trying to retrace her steps. The forest floor was too thick to leave behind any footprints. Every course looked the same. The identical trees offered no direction. There were no visible hills, rivers, or trails to guide her.
She was lost.
The long shadows grew as the sun lowered. Dyna’s heart raced, her breathing growing erratic. The darkening surroundings spun in a blur. The feeling left her legs. She fell onto her knees and wrapped her shaking arms around herself. Air wouldn’t enter her lungs. The forest closed in around her. She was falling through the cracks of the earth, turning to rubble and dust.
Lyra.
Dyna gasped for air. Her sister’s name was a rope, and she used it to scale up the walls of her panic.
She forced a mouthful of cold air down her throat over and over until she could think. Once the world stopped spinning, Dyna closed her eyes. As her breathing quieted, she heard distant waves beating against what must be the cliffs separating Hilos and Lykos Peak.
She picked herself up off the ground and ran toward it. Her footfalls carried through the forest, the shrubs rattling in her wake as she barreled past.
She stopped in a pocket of buttery light and listened for the sea again. Unnatural silence hung in the air. The wind halted, the birds no longer sang, and every chatter of life disappeared as though the forest itself held its breath. A reminder that she should not have made a sound came too late. Goosebumps raced over her skin at the sensation of being watched. She whirled around, anxiously searching the greenery.
No one was there.
It stirred memories of the past, of molten red eyes hunting her in the darkness. Dyna inhaled several deep breaths and leaned against a tree, reining in her fear. She gazed up at the delicate rays of sunlight slipping in through the tree’s long, swooping branches, shimmering on wide, gossamer leaves, appearing of glass. There was anotherHyalustree in these woods?
Dyna stepped back to admire the tranquil giant. The tree stood taller than the rest, reigning over all in its wake. It was much bigger than the one outside of her village. The girth of the silver trunk was as large as her cottage. The peculiarity of the tree was not the beauty of its transparent leaves, but that they glowed a luminous white once night fell.
A passage from the journal came to mind:Magic is in all life. It is within the sun, the moon, and the earth. Reverence is due, for such a majestic entity has been here since the dawn of the beginning and it will be here long after our end.
Dyna smiled and patted the tree. If night fell before she reached Zev, she would return to theHyalusfor shelter. It would keep her safe. For now, if she could find a fresh leaf, it would provide light without her having to make it herself.
She searched through the plush bed of fallen leaves scattered over the roots when she spotted a long black feather. It was glossy, almost glimmering in the shade. What kind of bird did this belong to?
She picked it up, and abrupt energy collided against her Essence. Gold light sparked at the tip of the feather and spread throughout its profile as a flourish of unexpected power filled her, pumping heat through her veins.
Awed, she brandished the feather around, creating glowing streaks of light. This was new magic, well, unknown to her. She’d have to study it later.
Turning to go, she heard a snap. Rope lashed out from under the leaves, snatching her ankle out from under her. Dyna screamed as it wrenched her into the air and she lost hold of the world again. She swung erratically from her leg, trapped in a pendulum above the ground.
Once the movement slowed, it took a moment to make sense of her situation. She hung upside down. Her cloak and dress had fallen over her face, leaving her legs bare. She quickly tucked her hem between her thighs and inspected her surroundings. The rope fastened around her ankle was fixed to a branch of theHyalus.
Coming through here must have triggered a hunting trap, but she had met no others in the forest. What kind of animal were they hunting? A large one by the makes of it.
Dyna grunted as she reached up to take the rope when the leaves rustled. She whipped her head around to see a man step out onto a thick branch from another tree across from her. Long, blond hair framed the planes of his striking face. More like him emerged from the surrounding trees. They were all men, all golden-haired, and incredibly stunning—but it was their pure-white wings that caught her breath.
Her mother’s faraway voice whispered in her thoughts the tales of old she used to tell her before bed,“Long ago, during the First Age, the Seraphim roamed Urn. They lived in the Kingdom of Hilos and were kind gentle beings.”
But these winged men didn’t look kind or gentle. Harshness cut their sharp features; their glares as sharp as a blade’s edge. Fine, dark-green leather armor matching the color of the leaves molded their deft frames. A golden sigil of open wings embossed their chest plates, each one well-armed with sword and bow.
