Chapter 2

“How much farther?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Patience.” He didn't turn around. “The forest doesn't like to be rushed.”

She bit back a retort. The air had grown thick, heavy with the scent of damp earth and something else—something sweet and cloying, like overripe fruit. The whispers she'd heard at the edge of the woods were louder now, threading through the trees like voices just out of reach.

“Do you hear that?” she said.

Kael stopped. He tilted his head, listening. “The forest talks. Don't answer.”

“I wasn't going to.”

“Good.” He started walking again, but his pace had slowed, his shoulders tensed. “The deeper we go, the more it tries to trick you. Voices of people you know. Sounds that lead you off the path. Stay close to me, and don't trust anything you hear.”

Anya's throat tightened. She thought of her grandmother's warnings, the old stories about travelers who followed the whispers and never came back. “What happens if you do answer?”

“You become part of the forest.” He said it flatly, like he was stating a fact. “The trees take root in your lungs, and your voice joins the chorus.”

The path opened into a clearing, and Anya stopped short. In the center stood a massive oak, its trunk wider than her bedroom, its branches stretching toward the sky like grasping hands. Hanging from the branches were dozens of lanterns, their flames burning in shades of blue and green and silver. The light cast strange shadows that danced across the ground, shifting and changing like living things.

“What is this place?” she breathed.

Kael walked to the base of the tree and ran his hand along the bark. “A crossroads. The forest tests everyone who passes through. If you're worthy, it lets you continue. If you're not…” He gestured to the lanterns. “You become a light.”

Anya's stomach dropped. “You mean those are—”

“People who got lost. Or greedy. Or careless.” He turned to face her, his expression unreadable. “The test varies. For me, it was a riddle. For you, it'll be different.”

“How do you know?”

“Because the forest sees you.” He stepped aside, revealing a small pool at the base of the tree that she hadn't noticed before. Its surface was mirror-still, reflecting the lanterns above. “Look.”

She moved closer, her boots sinking into the soft ground. The pool shimmered, and her reflection wavered, then shifted. She saw herself as a child, running through the castle gardens, laughing. Then as a young woman, standing before her father, her fists clenched, her voice raised in argument. Then as she was now—tired, scared, but determined.

And then the reflection spoke.

“You don't belong here.”

Anya stumbled back. The voice was her own, but wrong—colder, sharper, laced with a cruelty she'd never possessed.

“You're a princess,” the reflection continued, its lips curling into a sneer. “Soft. Sheltered. You've never fought for anything in your life. You think you can find the Sunstone? You think you can break the curse? You can't even break your own chains.”

“That's not true.” Her voice cracked.

“Isn't it? Who are you, really? Without your title, your castle, your family's name—what are you?”

Kael stepped forward, but Anya held up a hand. She knew what this was. A test. The forest was trying to find her weakness.

She looked at her reflection, at the mocking twist of its mouth, and she took a breath.

“I'm the girl who snuck out of a castle at midnight,” she said, her voice steadying. “I'm the girl who refuses to let a curse define her. I'm the girl who will find that Sunstone, break this curse, and build a life that's mine.”

She held her reflection's gaze. “I'm not here because I'm lost. I'm here because I'm finally choosing my own path.”

The reflection's sneer faltered. The pool rippled, and her image dissolved into silver light. The lanterns above flickered, and one by one, they went out, plunging the clearing into darkness.

When the light returned, the pool was gone. In its place lay a single, smooth stone, pale as bone, pulsing with a faint inner glow.

Anya picked it up. It was warm in her hand, humming with a gentle energy.

Kael let out a low whistle. “Well. That's one way to pass a test.”

“What is it?”

“A guide stone. It'll lead us to Valerius.” He took it from her, turning it over in his palm. “I've seen these before. They're rare. The forest only gives them to people it trusts.”

“It trusts me?”

“Apparently.” He handed it back, and his fingers brushed hers. A spark of warmth shot up her arm, and she saw something flicker in his eyes—surprise, maybe, or recognition. He pulled his hand away quickly. “We should keep moving. Valerius's tower is still half a day's walk, and the forest gets worse after midnight.”

They left the clearing, the guide stone leading them down a path that hadn't been there before. The whispers grew fainter, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the distant call of an owl. Anya felt lighter, as if passing the test had lifted a weight she hadn't known she was carrying.

“You handled that well,” Kael said after a long silence. “Most people break when the forest shows them their doubts.”

“I've had a lot of practice facing my doubts.” She paused. “What did your test show you?”

He was quiet for so long she thought he wouldn't answer. Then he said, “A choice I made. A long time ago. It showed me what I gave up to survive.”

“What did you give up?”

He glanced at her, and for a moment, the mischief was gone, replaced by something raw and tired. “My name. My home. Everything that made me who I was.”

She wanted to ask more, but the look in his eyes stopped her. There was a wall there, built high and thick, and she knew better than to try to climb it.

They walked in silence, the guide stone pulsing softly in her palm. The forest changed around them—the trees grew taller, their branches twisting together to form a canopy that blocked out the sky. The air grew colder, and Anya pulled her cloak tighter.

“We're close,” Kael said. “I can feel it.”

“Feel what?”

“Valerius's magic. It's like a pressure in the air.” He stopped, his hand going to the sword at his hip. “He knows we're coming. He's been watching since we entered the forest.”

Anya's heart pounded. “How do you know that?”

“Because I used to work for him.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and sudden. She stared at him, her mind racing.

“You what?”

He didn't meet her eyes. “I was his apprentice. Years ago. I helped him build the traps in this forest, the ones that catch travelers and turn them into those lanterns.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you deserve to know.” He finally looked at her, and his gaze was steady, unflinching. “I'm not proud of what I did. But I left him. I've been running ever since.”

“And the Sunstone? Is that why you're really here?”

He hesitated. “I want it for my own reasons. But I swear to you, I'm not going to betray you. Not now. Not after—” He stopped, shaking his head. “Just trust me, Anya. Please.”

She wanted to be angry. She wanted to demand the full truth. But she saw the guilt in his eyes, the weight of a past he couldn't escape. And she remembered the girl in the mirror, the one who said she was soft and sheltered. Maybe she was. But she was also the girl who chose to trust.

“Okay,” she said. “But if you lead me into a trap, I'll make sure the forest gets you.”

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “Fair enough.”

They pressed on, the guide stone growing warmer with every step. The trees thinned, and ahead, Anya saw a clearing—and in its center, a tower of black stone, rising like a finger of bone against the night sky.

Valerius's tower.

A barrier of shimmering silver surrounded it, pulsing with a dark energy that made her skin crawl.

“How do we get through?” she asked.

Kael studied the barrier, his jaw tight. “We don't. Not alone. The barrier is keyed to Valerius's magic. To break it, we need a counter-spell.”

Anya's hand went to her pocket, where she'd hidden her grandmother's journal. The pages were filled with forbidden magic, spells her grandmother had taught her in secret.

“I might know one,” she said quietly.

Kael's eyes widened. “You practice magic?”

“A little. My grandmother taught me.” She pulled out the journal, its leather cover worn and soft. “She said it was our legacy. The magic that the kingdom outlawed.”

He stared at her, and then he laughed—a short, surprised sound. “You're full of surprises, Princess.”

“Anya.”

“Anya.” He said her name like it was precious. “Show me what you've got.”

She opened the journal, her fingers tracing the faded ink. The spell was there, just as her grandmother had written it. She read the words aloud, her voice trembling at first, then growing stronger.

The barrier flickered. The silver light dimmed, and a crack appeared, thin as a hair.

“It's working,” Kael said. “Keep going.”

She focused, pouring everything she had into the spell. The crack widened, and the barrier began to unravel, threads of silver dissolving into the air.

And then a voice spoke, smooth as velvet, cold as winter.

“I wondered when you'd arrive, apprentice.”

Kael went rigid. Anya looked up, and there, in the tower's highest window, stood a figure in black robes, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.

Master Valerius.

“You've brought me a gift,” he said, his gaze settling on Anya. “The princess. How thoughtful.”

Kael stepped in front of her, his sword drawn. “She's not yours to take.”

“Oh, but she is.” Valerius smiled. “She always was.”

The barrier shattered, and the tower doors swung open, revealing a darkness that seemed to breathe.

Anya gripped the guide stone, its warmth a steady pulse against her palm. Whatever waited inside, she wouldn't face it alone.

She hoped.