"He's coming for us," Elora whispered, her voice cracking. "I can feel him in the air."
Elora closed her eyes. She didn't think of queens or prophecies. She thought of the kitchens—the warmth of the hearth, the smell of fresh bread, the feeling of safety she used to take for granted. She reached for that warmth and pushed it outward. "He's coming for us," Elora whispered, her voice cracking
Willow smiled, a rare spark of hope in his eyes. "That is exactly how it starts." She thought of the kitchens—the warmth of the
They weren't alone for long. Out of the shadows stepped Willow Ufgood. He looked older than the legends said—tired, his robes frayed at the edges. In his hand, he gripped a carved wooden wand, its tip pulsing with a faint, uncertain amber glow. "That is exactly how it starts
The silence returned, but this time it was peaceful. Elora sank to her knees, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Willow walked over and placed a small, weathered hand on her shoulder. "You did it," he said softly. "I just wanted him to go away," she replied.
Elora Danan, the girl who had spent her life as "Dove," the kitchen maid, looked at her hands. They were trembling. Only hours ago, she had been captured by the , agents of a darkness she barely understood. She had escaped, but the woods felt like a cage. Every snap of a twig sounded like the clicking teeth of the Lich , the terrifying sorcerer-assassin hunting her through the brush.