I stepped closer, unable to look away. The trembling surface distorted my features, though not enough to conceal the monstrosity that now wore my face.
I nearly recoiled.
The delicate, beautiful features I once possessed were twisted into something ripped from my nightmares. My green skin clashed harshly with my dark, wavy blonde hair. My blue eyes seemed unnaturally large, and my lips, once full and naturally pink, had faded to a dark green—tiny fangs jutted from them, sharp and gleaming like needles.
Every detail was a cruel reminder of who I had been and who I was meant to be. Princess Fiona, the most radiant flower of Ceilte, raised to be graceful and flawless, no longer existed. Where she once stood, a grotesque creature now emerged, caught in the limbo of two worlds that would never accept her.
I lifted trembling fingers to my face, as if touching my own skin could somehow reveal a trace of the High Fae I had been before Merith’s curse. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing it all to be a cruel illusion, but when I opened them again, the face staring back at me hadn’t changed.
“What did I do to deserve this?” I whispered, my voice the only sound in the silent forest.
The stream continued to flow, indifferent to my plight. A drop fell onto the surface of the water, distorting my reflection once more. Only when another fell, and then another, did I realize I was crying. Thick, heavy tears rolled down mygreen skin and disappeared into the stream, joining the infinite droplets of water.
I let them fall for a while, each tear loosening the tight knot lodged in my throat. I had no sense of time as I knelt in the soaked earth, breathing in shallow, trembling gasps, the world shrinking to the narrow space between one sob and the next.
When the last tear fell, I pushed myself upright, splashing cold water over my face and washing away every trace of weakness. This would be the last time I mourned my appearance or the life I had lost. From now on, only one path remained: survive this curse—and then find Merith and make her pay.
I straightened, drawing a deep breath when a terrible, piercing howl ripped through the forest.
The sound came so suddenly that my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. It vibrated through my bones, echoed off the trees, and made the stream’s surface shiver. I recognized that howl. Though I had only joined a few hunts with my father and brother, I would have recognized a dùthragh’s cry from miles away. The magical wolf was a herald of death, his ghostly wail leaving no survivors. Judging by the sound, he was close.
My body moved before my mind could catch up. I sprang to my feet so quickly I nearly slipped in the mud, my heartbeat thundering loud enough for the creature to sense.
Driven by pure instinct, I bolted from the sound, pouring every ounce of strength into my legs. My longer strides carried me across the stream, and I vaulted over a fallen trunk with an ease that still surprised me. The forest blurred around me as the tattered remains of my gown whipped against my thighs, and air tore in and out of my lungs.
Unfortunately, the dùthragh was faster, quickly closing the distance between us. Heavy paws tore through the underbrush behind me, the thick stench of musk and wild beast filling the air. He was too close. I couldn’t keep running mindlessly. The dùthragh hunted with ruthless patience; if I didn’t find a way to shake it, he would catch me and tear me apart like a helpless lamb.
I needed a place to hide, somewhere I could catch him off guard. My eyes swept the forest, searching for a hollow between the trees, a cave, or a large rock—but the dense, dark woods offered no refuge. Just as I was about to give up and run for my life, I spotted the thick, twisted roots of an ancient oak. Too small for a proper hiding spot, but it would have to do.
In a single, desperate motion, I dove toward the roots, curling myself into the hollow.
Goddess Danu, I begged silently.Help me.
Magic surged from my fingertips into the earth. The roots around me stirred, slowly at first, then faster, twisting and weaving together until they formed a thick barrier. I closed my eyes, focusing all my energy, shaping the soil and roots into a green fortress—a hidden underground chamber that swallowed me completely from view.
The sliding of paws on the dirt fell silent. A stench of old, rotting blood hit my nose, making me gag as the dùthragh stood just beyond the roots, waiting.
I held my breath, forcing my racing heart to slow. The dagger Kristan had given me pressed against my chest, ready in case the beast detected me. His hulking frame approached the oak, muscles rippling under matted fur as he sniffed the air, hunting for the slightest trace of me.
One minute passed. Two. Three.
A frustrated growl cut through the silence, followed by the sound of paws retreating. I exhaled in a long, shaky sigh, feeling the adrenaline drain from my body, leaving me boneless.
“Thank you,” I whispered to the roots that had shielded me, letting the magic slip away.
The tangled green walls slowly receded, unveiling the forest once more. I stepped out cautiously, scanning the area, but there was no sign of the dùthragh. The Orb of Caith flared to life in my hand, its green glow so fierce that I had to blink rapidly to clear my vision.
I pushed myself to my feet, brushed the dirt from my body, and continued forward, taking the lightest steps I could muster in this oversized body.
No sooner had I taken a step than a low growl rolled through the air. I froze, holding my breath. From behind a massive dark trunk emerged a creature the size of a bull, moss-green fur blending seamlessly with the forest as two crimson eyes burned in the darkness like embers.
The dùthragh had the body of a common wolf, his pointed ears turned in my direction, catching every sound I made, including my erratic heartbeat. His mouth opened slowly, revealing rows of long, sharp teeth. The growl deepened, pulsing through the air with magic.
I took a step back, bumping into a thick tree trunk, my mind spinning as I scrambled for memories of hunts with my father. He had always said that when a dùthragh found you, there were only two options.
The dùthragh was a herald of death—three howls, and you were finished. Flee before the third, and you might survive. When my father had told Leone and me this, I’d thought it was simple: Just run and hide. But now, staring into the beast’sglowing eyes, my legs betrayed me, locked in place as fear rooted me to the forest floor.
The wolf crept closer, wary but not yet attacking. I needed to get out of there before he howled again. I refused to die in the middle of this forest, alone and wearing a different face.
