The world began to blur like I was under water. Through the haze, the scene was a fragmented nightmare. People were running in blind panic. My mother remained imprisoned in that wretched stasis, her eyes wide and glassy. My father was on his knees, his hands hovering over me, trembling—the Lord of Ceilte reduced to a man who could only watch his world burn. Guards drew their blades, a wall of steel rushing toward the intruder—
My eyes found her.
Merith.
Standing at the center of the chaos, her hands lifted like a conductor guiding a macabre symphony. Her eyes glowed like burning coals, and a slow, satisfied smile spread across her lips.
The flame inside me clawed its way up my throat. I gasped for air, thick and heavy as molten lead.
Then, with a soul-deep horror, I realized the sharpest, most agonizing scream echoing through the hall didn’t belong to the crowd.
It belonged to me.
Chapter 3
I had no idea how much time had passed. I only knew that when the pain stopped eating through me from the inside out, it felt like ages had gone by. My eyes burned when I finally worked up the courage to open them. I expected the glare of the ceremonial hall, but instead a dark shadow hovered over me. I blinked a few times, trying to clear my vision.
My mother’s beautiful, delicate face finally bled into focus. Silver lined her eyes as she babbled something I couldn't understand—the words were drowned out by the low-frequency buzzing that still vibrated in my skull.
I felt the sharp sting of her nails as they bit into my shoulders, her grip desperate and bruising. Only then did I realize I was no longer standing; I was sprawled on the cold stone floor, and she was clutching me, trying to keep my very soul inside my body.
I let out a low, ragged groan and squeezed my eyes shut against the throbbing light.
“It hurts, Mama,” I managed to rasp. My own voice sounded like I had swallowed broken glass.
Something wet splashed onto my cheek. When I forced my eyes open again, my mother was weeping like a child. Her tears fell hot on my skin, and each droplet stung like it had landed on an open wound. I tried to lift my hand to wipe them, but my arm felt like it had been cast in lead. I barely managed to shift it a few inches before it collapsed back onto the stone.
“My baby… what did that cursed female do to you?” My mother’s voice finally reached me, shaken.
Her hand slid from my cheek to my forehead. It was shockingly cold, like she had spent the last hour submerged in ice. The touch contrasted with the scorching heat that still burned inside me.
“Stay with me, Fionnuala, please,” she begged, bringing her face close to mine. “Look at me, my love. Look at me. It’s going to be okay.”
Little by little, my senses returned—and with them, a tidal wave of confusion and terror. I remembered everything that had transpired in the last few hours, or had it only been minutes? My pulse quickened, a frantic drumming against my ribs.
“Merith—what happened?”
With the little strength I had left, I tried to sit up. My mother’s hands were there instantly, steadying me. I glanced around the hall and felt a shiver as people stared at me, their eyes wide, like I was a ghost. Even my father, a few steps behind my mother, looked at me with horror-filled eyes. I couldn’t find Leone anywhere; he had probably gone with the guards after Merith, since she appeared to have vanished.
Across the hall, near the priest, Jameson shook like a leaf, staring at me with his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.
“My dear, we have to go,” my mother said, standing and struggling to pull me up.
Still dizzy, I leaned against her shoulder, only to realize with shock that I was much taller than she was. Slowly, I let my gaze travel down my body. A sharp scream ripped out of me when I saw green hands pushing out from my dress, which looked shorter now.
My hands, once delicate, nails painted a pale pink, were now huge with dark green, almost black, claws. I lifted them, blinking hard, hoping this was just a nightmare I would wake up from, but they stayed the same.
My eyes dropped lower and found the rest of the damage: the bodice stretched until it warped the fabric, the skirt torn open at the sides, my green legs showing through shredded stockings, and my shoes reduced to twisted strips of leather.
I was…green.
“Mama…” I whispered, and my own voice startled me. “What… what is this? What did she do to me?”
My mother tightened her grip on my shoulders, but even that felt different—her fingers could barely wrap around them. She swallowed hard before her expression turned to steel.
“We need to leave. Now.” Her tone was firm. Before I could fully understand what was happening, she grabbed my hand and turned to go.
I took an unsteady step, still dazed.
