Chapter 1

The Last of the Line

Once upon a time, in a land that seemed far away but was, in truth, right in front of you, the last king of The Earthen Throne gazed down into the silver eyes of his daughter, the last of his bloodline. Her mother, the queen, had perished in giving birth to the princess. Now, dark wizards, hungry for power, threatened to take her away.

The stories about the fairy circles, which seemed like mere tales of wonder, were true. Martha, the princess's caretaker and surrogate mother, stood trembling at the edge of a circle of shimmering light. Her heart ached as she let the tears fall, knowing she was about to face an impossible choice. Her fears were confirmed when a figure emerged from the circle—an ancient king, draped in flowing robes of twilight blue, his silver hair braided with tiny stars. He approached with solemn grace, cradling a child in his arms.

Martha stopped crying as the king gently placed the child into her hands. It was as if the world itself held its breath for a moment, the sky darkening above them. The king gave a sad smile, then stepped backward into the circle, vanishing into the air with a soft rustle of wind.

For a long while, Martha stood motionless, her arms cradling the small bundle. The child’s breath was warm against her chest, and the weight of her new responsibility pressed down upon her. With a deep, steadying breath, she turned and walked away from the clearing.

Back at her cottage in the woods, her husband, Connor, awaited her on the porch, his face lined with both concern and knowing. No words were exchanged as Martha entered the door, the child’s presence unspoken between them. This was no ordinary child—Connor had expected this moment ever since the day they had walked into the woods. Being part of the fairy courts, a family of changelings, was something they had once feared, but now, with their own child lost, they saw it as a chance to be whole again.

The cottage door creaked shut behind them, and Connor’s eyes lingered on the small, mysterious child.

“I knew it was only a matter of time,” he muttered, “but this… this is far greater than I expected.”

Martha set the child down in a cradle, smoothing the blankets around her tiny form. The child was beautiful—her skin like porcelain and her hair like strands of midnight silk, but it was the royal mark on her arm that made Martha’s heart skip a beat. A circle of runes, etched in gold, faint but unmistakable, glowed just beneath the infant’s skin.

“Connor, what does this mean?” Martha whispered, her voice tinged with worry.

He ran a hand through his hair. “It means we’re closer to a dangerous truth than I had hoped.” He lowered his voice, his expression grim. “A dark wizard will stop at nothing to find her.”

And so, the years passed in secrecy, the little girl—whom they named Lisa—grew with love in the quiet safety of their cottage. She was everything they had hoped for, a child who laughed and played in the meadows, her smile a bright sun after the long years of sorrow.

But on her fifth birthday, as the royal mark on her arm burned brighter than ever, Connor pulled Martha aside, a deep fear in his eyes.

“I know we haven’t spoken about how you brought Lisa home that day,” he began, his voice tense. “But there’s more at play here than you realize.”

Martha’s heart raced. “What do you mean?”

Connor hesitated, his gaze flickering to the window where Lisa played in the garden, her laugh echoing like music in the air. “Who exactly gave you this child?”

Martha’s thoughts turned to the king, to the way his eyes had held sorrow when he handed her Lisa. “I can only guess by the crown he wore… He must have been someone important in the courts.”

Connor swallowed hard. “We should be fine for now, but… all hell will break loose if a dark wizard finds her here. We must be ready for whatever comes.”

Martha took a deep breath, watching Lisa from the window, her heart heavy with unspoken fears. “Who would hurt such an innocent soul?”

Connor placed a hand on her shoulder. “You won’t have to worry too much. They won’t come for her until I’ve left. We have time, plenty of time.”

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Have you ever wondered why the world spins, or why the sky is blue, or why the grass is green? Have you ever wondered why the magic in the water fizzles when you touch the surface? Have you ever wondered why there are no more fairies?

From what I remember, and from what people have told me, the world once thrived on the magic of the fairies. The sky blazed with brilliant oranges and reds, and the grass was soft beneath your feet, not brittle and dry. Those were simpler days, I suppose.

Now, everything is different, more difficult somehow. The world is colder, and not just in the weather. The ice caps are melting, and the winters are no longer as biting as they used to be. But I swear, as thin as I’ve gotten, the cold feels sharper every year.

The path I’ve taken is one I never could have predicted. If you’d told me a year ago that I would be here, living in this city, cold and distant, I wouldn’t have believed you. Since Kai dragged me away from Bluehaven—the lush forests, the ever-green trees, the whispers of magic—I’ve felt like something inside me has died. Mum always joked that I was allergic to the stone of the city buildings, but now, I think I must be. Something is wrong, and I don’t know how to stop it.

I feel numb. Tired. More tired than I’ve ever felt. From the moment my eyes open, all I want to do is shut them again. It takes so much effort just to get out of bed. Sometimes, when I roll over in the morning, I pray the other side of the bed will be empty. I hate it when he’s there, when Kai demands so much from me, always watching, always controlling.

Today, however, is different. Kai must have left early for a case. The house is mine, or at least it’s as much mine as it can be with ten guards stationed around the property. I pull on the thickest jumper I own, a beanie, and my worn gloves, and head out into the cold, hoping that maybe a cup of coffee will wake me up.

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The streets are quiet as I walk to my usual coffee shop, the air biting at my skin. I take a seat by the window, staring into the distance as the chill winds tug at my hair, the wound on my lip stinging every time I take a sip of my coffee. It’s not the first wound I’ve had, and it certainly won’t be the last. The pain is nothing now—not even enough to make me flinch.

“Lisa.”

The voice, soft and familiar, cuts through my thoughts. I break my gaze from the lamp post outside and turn to meet the eyes of a man standing in front of me. His face, gentle and warm, reminds me of something—something I can’t place. His smile is bright, but I quickly drop my own, afraid to show any sign of emotion.

Someone will notice. Someone will tell Kai.

“Lisa,” the man says again, his smile faltering just slightly as if he can see through the mask I wear every day. His eyes… There’s something in them, something I haven’t seen in so long.

I turn away, swallowing the lump in my throat. As I stand, I hear the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. I spot a man in a suit at a nearby table, his eyes too sharp, too attentive. Another warning.

“Lisa, wait.”

The man’s hand brushes my arm, and for a moment, everything else fades. I feel the warmth of the touch, the heat of a hand I shouldn’t know, and I know, deep down, that I shouldn’t be feeling this. But I turn around anyway.

“Erin?” My voice is barely a whisper, barely more than a breath, but it's enough.

The world holds its breath.

The moment my name fell from his lips, something inside me shattered. The sound of my own voice—the breathy whisper of Erin—made everything around me grow still, as if the world had paused its constant spinning. My heart beat a frantic rhythm, but my feet, heavy with uncertainty, remained planted in place.

Erin. I hadn’t heard that name in years. Not since the days when everything seemed clearer, when the world hadn’t been so cold, so distant. He was that Erin, the one who had been a part of the pieces of me I thought I had lost forever.

His eyes—those same gentle eyes—searched mine, as if trying to pull me back to something, some past I couldn’t remember. Or maybe I didn't want to.

“Lisa…” His voice was soft, but there was a weight to it, a pull that tugged at my insides. “You’ve changed.” He spoke as if he had known me once, as if there had been a time when I was whole, before I was broken.

I felt the coldness of the world around me, the ice that had begun to form in my chest, wrapping its way around my heart. I wanted to run. I wanted to keep hiding, keep pretending that I didn’t know who he was or what he meant to me. But something—maybe the way he said my name, or the way my blood seemed to heat with recognition—kept me standing there.

“I don’t know you,” I said, my voice sharp despite the way my insides quivered.

A flicker of sadness passed over his face, so fleeting that I almost thought I had imagined it. His smile faded, but he didn’t look away. “You don’t remember, do you?” he asked, more to himself than to me.

I recoiled, instinctively stepping back, my hand brushing my lip where the scar burned as though it were a mark of my past that refused to fade. But the man—Erin—wasn’t looking at that. He was looking at me, as if he saw something more than what I had become.

“You were a child when we—when we last saw each other,” Erin continued. “Before everything changed. Before they took you away.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I stumbled, grabbing the back of the chair for support. They took you away.

The sentence unraveled something deep inside me. I wanted to scream. To deny it. To shout that he was wrong, that I didn’t know him, that this was some trick, a cruel game. But as I looked into his eyes, I saw something that made the walls around me crack.

Memories—fragments—flickered. A face, so familiar, yet so distant. The forest. A garden of light. You were safe here. We’re not safe anymore.

My mind reeled. I could barely make sense of it, but there was no denying the pull, the way every instinct screamed at me to listen.

“You’re… you’re Erin.” I whispered the name, and it tasted strange, like a half-forgotten word. But I knew it was him.

Erin gave a slow nod, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He took a step closer, but I stepped back. My mind was a storm, and the walls I had carefully built around myself began to crumble under the weight of his presence.

“What happened to you, Lisa?” His voice was barely audible now, strained with emotion. “We were supposed to protect you. You were meant to be...”

“Meant to be what?” I interrupted, a mix of anger and confusion rising in my chest. “What do you want from me now?”

Erin’s expression softened, his eyes full of something that looked like regret. “It’s not what I want, Lisa. It’s what you need to remember. Who you are.”

“Who I am?” The words tasted bitter on my tongue. Who I am. The answer had been ripped from me, buried so deep that I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to find it again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “I know you don’t. Not yet. But you will. Soon.”

I shook my head, unable to speak. I wanted to turn away, to walk out into the cold, to feel something that wasn’t this crushing weight in my chest. But Erin reached out again, this time his hand resting on the table between us.

“Lisa…” He said my name again, the way no one ever did, as though it was a promise. “There are things you don’t understand. But they’re coming for you. The dark wizards. And they’re not just after you, Lisa. They’re after everything.”

“Everything?” I echoed, my voice rising with panic. “What are you talking about? I don’t even know who I am!”

Erin’s face darkened, his eyes distant as if he were reliving a nightmare. “You’re the last of the line, Lisa. The bloodline of the Earthen Throne. You carry the mark. The magic.”

I froze. The words hit me like a bolt of lightning, striking deep. The mark. The thing I’d always felt, but never truly understood. It burned now, deep beneath my skin, a constant reminder of something I didn’t remember—something I never wanted to.

“The Earthen Throne,” I repeated, as the world around me seemed to tilt. “You… you’re saying I’m a princess?”

Erin nodded slowly. “The last princess of the Earthen Throne. The last heir to the kingdom. And the only one who can stop the darkness from rising.”

I recoiled again, my pulse hammering in my ears. I wanted to scream, to deny him, to reject this truth that felt so out of place in the life I had created for myself.

But I knew one thing.

I couldn’t run anymore.

The door was opening, and I had no choice but to walk through it.

“I’m not ready for this,” I whispered, my voice shaking.

“You don’t have to be,” Erin replied softly, “but you don’t have a choice.”

I wanted to ask him what he meant, to demand answers to all the questions that flooded my mind, but when I went to pull my beanie down over my ears, the smiley man I had seen earlier was gone. I blinked, staring at the empty space where he had been standing. Had he been real? Or was this just another illusion, another trick the world was playing on me?