ONE BY ONE.

A single set at first.

Then, another. And another.

Four. Six. Nine? I lose count.

Each set of prints seems to materialize out of thin air, as if the snow itself is birthing them into existence.

Some are large and heavy, leaving deep imprints that speak of great strength and weight. Others are delicate and precise, barely making a mark on the pristine white canvas.

All leading away from the darkness of the forest and moving closer to the cottage.

To me.

The hair on the back of my neck stands alert.

A cold sweat breaks out on my skin as I try to make sense of it. I turn away from the window, my pulse pounding in my veins. The silence of the cottage now feels oppressive, suffocating. A subtle heaviness settles in my chest. Where is Orion?

I call out for him, but my voice seems to be swallowed by the stillness of the night.

My mind races, trying to piece together what could be out there, leaving those tracks. A faint dizziness washes over me, as if the world is spinning gently around me. It must have something to do with that fae prince...

What other magic was he capable of? A Stormbringer, a necromancer, and now what?

My father's legends and stories of adventuring in magical foreign lands are all I know of magic. That somewhere on a mythical mountain a species of great snow leopard once lived. That in an enchanted forest, there were uncatchable golden deer with antlers of bronze.

Orion always claims that was many years ago, somewhere far away, somewhere "unreachable" now.

But the prince had certainly reached us.

Myths say fae are beautiful, elusive, humanlike creatures that are uninterested in mortals. Their realm is supposed to be luxurious, plentiful, and just as beautiful as they are.

Fae are not supposed to come to the mortal realm.

Every shadow in the room seems to flicker and dance, my ears straining for any sound beyond the walls of the cottage.

I clutch the soft, warm Daenara's pelt to my shaking body, drawing in its comforting scent as I gather the strength to step outside the room. The heavy fur is a shield against the chilly air that bites at my exposed skin.

My limbs hesitate to move, still aching with a dull numbness, still recovering from all the cold that has seeped into the marrow of my bones. My skin has lost some of the vibrance of my usual color, as if it too is struggling to regain its vitality. My sun kissed morning of gaining new freckles, of tanning, feels long ago.

Each movement is like pushing through a thick fog, my body and mind not quite in sync yet.

The floorboards creak beneath my weight, each sound reverberating through the silent cottage like a thunderclap.

I make my way through the hallway, the walls seeming to close in around me as I move down the stairs. The tension in the air grows thicker with every step I take, my senses on high alert for any sign of danger. Orion must have picked up the fallen candles because now they stand back in their usual place along the windowsills, the small flames casting eerie shadows that seem to twist and writhe on the walls.

As I reach the bottom step, a faint glimmer catches my eye. In the dim light of the candles, I see something on the table that wasn't there before. I approach cautiously, my heart racing in my chest. There, sitting delicately amidst scattered carvings and trinkets, is Jovanna's music box. The intricate carvings on the wooden surface glisten with a thin layer of that winter lace, evidence of the storm that had raged through earlier. It's in even worse condition now than when I had originally found it.

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My fingers trace the familiar patterns on its surface, feeling the new scars and dents. I don't dare lift the lid to test if the music works, but I have a feeling that'll need to be repaired again too. It will take twice as long to fix again.

Suddenly, a distant noise catches my attention, a soft murmur coming from the direction of the front door.

I pause, my breath catching in my throat.

Then it's gone.

The sound of blood rushing in my ears almost drowns out any other noise as I strain to listen. I gently slide the music box into the pocket of my dress, and the noise becomes louder this time, accompanied by the faint sound of muffled voices.

I move towards the window, careful to stay out of sight as I peer through the lace thin curtains.

I can make out two silhouettes now, their forms bathed in moonlight yet obscured by darkness. A swirling mist seems to rise from the ground around them.

The figures stand roughly fifteen feet from the porch, their hushed voices carrying through the crisp night air.

Whatever they are discussing, it seems urgent, the tension palpable even through the thick wooden walls of the cottage.

One of the figures, who I instantly recognize as the prince, suddenly turns his head, as if sensing my gaze on them. My heart leaps into my throat, fearing that I have been discovered.

But just as quickly those twilight blue eyes scan the area around him, passing over me.

He's pretending he doesn't notice me.

But why? And who is he talking to?

The other figure raises a hand, pointing towards the cottage, and my heart seizes in dread.

I strain to make out their words, catching fragments carried by the wind.

"...The Only Prince must find..."

"...dangerous..." once he speaks, I recognize the voice of my father as the other figure.

"...Arabella..."

My fingers grip the edge of the window sill, knuckles aching with tension.

Arabella was my mother's name.

How does the prince know my mother?

Just as questions swirl my head, from the corner of my eyes, I see the foot prints materializing again in the snow leading from the forest.

The invisible beings have made it to the front.

Prince Noadok, I remember his name, and my father have no reaction to the eerie event. They stand still, their backs to me as their conversation grows louder and more urgent completely disregarding the strange occurrence happening around them.

"...just a month. Then Faris..."

"...won't leave her..."

"...the war is not stopping..."

The prince's tone sends icy fingers clawing down my spine.

I can feel the weight of his presence even from this distance, a magnetic pull that tugs at something deep within me.

"...she must be prepared..."

"Not while I still draw breath, she doesn't." My father makes no effort to whisper now.

Faris and my mother, Arabella - all these pieces swirl around me, forming a puzzle I don't think I'm meant to solve.

The tension in the air crackles as I turn to watch the invisible beings begin their work. Despite the sudden heaviness overtaking my eyelids, I strain my eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of their true forms, but it's like grasping at shadows. They move with a fluid grace, their forms only visible through the disturbances they create in the snow and mist. Debris and fallen trees are lifted and carried away by unseen hands, leaving the ground beneath them pristine.

The beings aren't attacking, they're... cleaning?

It's as if they are unraveling the chaos around them, restoring a sense of order with each precise motion. I guess this is what Prince Noadok meant by repairing the village.

I tear my gaze away from the mesmerizing sight and focus back on the urgent conversation happening just beyond the walls of the cottage. The mention of my mother's name, Arabella, has stirred something deep within me.

It is not often Orion would speak of her.

A distant memory begins to resurface like a murky shadow emerging from the depths of my mind. Images flicker before me - eyes the same color as my own, a gentle voice humming a familiar lullaby, a warm hand brushing hair away from my forehead.

But it's impossible. Orion says my mother died very shortly after I was born.

The night air grows colder around me, and despite the determination running through my veins, I find myself yawning, my breaths coming out in slow, steady exhales. Why can't I concentrate? I must have been hurt worse than I thought. A concussion ?

"She's just a girl, Prince Noadok."

"She is our only hope, Orion."

"You're wrong."

At this, Noadok laughs dryly. "Am I? That's new. Why don't you prove it then? You do the quest. Either way, it will be one of you."

Orion falls silent at the challenge, his jaw clenched in frustration. The weight of the prince's words hangs heavy in the air. A quest? To do what?

Prince Noadok's gaze lingers on Orion for a moment longer before turning towards the cottage once more. The swirling mist seems to part around him as he walks purposefully towards the porch, my father following close behind.

Panic surging, I scramble away from the window, heart pounding in my chest. I have to think fast, find a place to hide.

I push open the creaky door of the linen closet and slip inside, quickly pulling the door shut behind me, just as the prince and my father enter.