The days were beginning to blur.
Morning mist stretched across the forest floor like silk. Elira stood by the hearth in the grandmother's old cottage, boiling water for tea made of dried elderflowers and rose hips. Her fingers moved methodically, but her mind wandered.
She kept waking at odd hours.
Always after dreams.
Always with the taste of blood in her mouth and the sound of distant screams echoing in her ears.
This morning was no different.
> "Another dream," she murmured, staring into the steam rising from her cup.
"Another warning."
She didn't know who was screaming.
But she feared she would soon find out.
---
Signs in the Soil
She ventured deeper into the woods that day.
Wrapped in a woolen cloak, hood up, she followed the winding trail of moss-covered stones until she reached the stream. Her boots sank slightly into the wet earth, and she paused, feeling a strange vibration.
The ground... whispered.
> "You are being watched."
Her hand flew to her dagger, more from instinct than thought.
But there was nothing there—no wolf, no bear, no cloaked assassin hiding in the thickets.
Still, the sense of unease didn't pass.
Her mental magic, sharpened by days of silence and solitude, hummed like a string pulled taut. Her gift of truthseeing flickered in and out of focus like a candle dancing in wind.
Then—a flash.
A vision.
> Two shadowed figures at the edge of her forest.
Silver in one's hand.
The other carried something heavier.
A rope?
Her stomach clenched.
"They're looking for me…"
But they were not Thalion's men.
They were strangers.
---
Thalion's Visit
By dusk, she heard the low whinny of a horse.
She stepped out of the cottage, heart racing—half-hoping, half-dreading—and there he was.
King Thalion.
Still wearing his royal blues beneath a travel cloak dusted with pine needles. His face was unshaven, dark eyes heavy with exhaustion. But the moment he saw her—
> "Elira," he breathed. "My moon."
She walked straight into his arms.
No words passed between them for a long moment. The forest around them faded away. The pain. The banishment. The weight of secrets. All silenced beneath the pounding of two hearts still foolishly, irrevocably entwined.
"I dreamed of your voice last night," she whispered against his chest.
He kissed the top of her head. "I dream of it every night."
---
Unspoken Fears
Inside the cottage, Thalion paced.
"I had to come. There are rumors. Two riders were seen leaving the capital heading east. I fear one of my wives—"
> "Don't say their names," Elira cut in, sharp and cold.
He flinched.
"I don't want to remember their voices. Not here."
Thalion nodded. He looked around the room—at the herbs hanging from the ceiling, the bundle of firewood she'd chopped herself, the woven blankets on the bed.
"You've made this place a home."
"I had no choice."
His gaze dropped to her abdomen.
"Is it…?"
She nodded once, slowly. "I only found out two moons ago."
Emotion cracked across his face like lightning.
"I'll protect you both, Elira. I swear it. Whatever comes."
But even as he said it, she could feel the dread swirling behind his promise.
> The kingdom was shifting.
Enemies were stirring.
And the forest no longer felt as safe as it once did.
That night, after a dinner of spiced stew and hard bread, Elira lit the hearth and sat beside Thalion on the worn fur-covered bench.
The fire cast amber shadows across their faces. She could feel his gaze—soft, hungry, reverent. The same way he looked at her during their first night in the royal bedchambers.
> "Do you remember the stars that night?" she whispered.
He smiled. "How could I forget? You made a mockery of all my oaths."
She smirked. "You broke them willingly."
Their laughter dissolved into silence. A charged, magnetic silence.
When he reached for her, she didn't pull away. His fingers brushed her cheek. Her lips parted, breath shallow.
But before passion overtook them, she stopped him with a hand to his chest.
> "Thalion… if you stay longer, they'll know. One of them may have sent spies into the forest. You must go before dawn."
"I don't care."
"I do," she said gently. "Because I want you alive. I want our child to have a father."
His jaw clenched with frustration. "I hate this. Hiding you like some shameful secret, when you're the only thing I've ever been proud of."
Elira leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his.
> "One day… we'll burn the lies to ash. But for now, we survive."
---
The Dream of the Old Queen
After he fell asleep, Elira stepped outside into the mist.
The moon was high. Her breath curled in the cold air. The forest around the cottage throbbed with ancient energy—wild, watchful, wise.
She walked barefoot into the clearing. She'd begun this ritual every night—standing still under the moonlight, opening her mind.
And tonight, it answered.
Suddenly, she wasn't in the clearing anymore.
She was in a dreamscape—a pale-blue chamber made of smoke and stars.
An old woman sat on a throne of twisted roots, her silver eyes unblinking. Elira knew this was no ordinary vision. This was her ancestor—the first dreamwalker of their bloodline. The one from whom her power descended.
> "You are the last of us," the old queen said, voice like wind in trees.
"And the child in your womb will be the first of the new."
Elira's breath caught.
> "You must teach the child to dream. To see. To bend the mind."
The vision began to flicker.
> "But beware, daughter of mist… the blood of queens runs hot in enemies. The wolves wear pearls now. And the knife waits behind the crown."
Then—
> Darkness.
Elira woke up on her knees in the clearing, sweat on her brow and a sharp pain in her stomach.
Not from the baby.
From the magic.
It was returning stronger. Hungrier.
And it wanted vengeance.
---
The Unseen Visitors
The next morning, Thalion was gone.
He left behind a white rose and a note pressed between two pages of an old book she had brought with her from the palace.
> "If the wind ever turns cruel, send it my name. And I will come running with fire in my hands."
She clutched the note and didn't cry. She'd run out of tears.
Instead, she sharpened her senses.
She could feel it again—two minds in the distance. Clouded. Unfamiliar. Watching her from the trees.
The riders.
They were still out there. Still searching.
---
Preparation
Elira spent the rest of the day gathering herbs, setting magical wards along the edge of the property, and crafting sigils in ash along the threshold of the cottage. Her powers weren't just returning—they were evolving.
Her compulsion no longer needed words.
Her dreamwalking could now pierce other dreams.
And her truthseeing was beginning to see beyond the present.
That night, she whispered to the fire, her voice strong and sure.
> "Come for me. All of you. I am not what I once was. I am more."
That night, Elira couldn't sleep. Her dreams were jagged and hot — full of burning cities, blood-covered scrolls, and the wails of a crying child she hadn't yet held.
When she woke at dawn, the wind was different.
It smelled of smoke.
Not from her hearth. From the south. From the kingdom.
Racing out to the clearing, she reached out with her mind — stretching her gift as far as it could reach. It took all her strength, but she finally tethered herself to a familiar thread:
> Isleen.
One of the youngest queens. The most innocent. Or so Elira had thought.
Now, she saw the truth: Isleen was sitting with the High Priest, whispering treason into his ear.
> "She carries a child," Isleen hissed. "And he sneaks to her in the forest. He still calls her my queen."
Elira's heart stopped.
Isleen knew.
And worse—others knew too.
---
The Poisoned Petition
From the edge of the High Priest's mind, Elira gleaned more:
The other queens had petitioned the High Council to strip her of all titles.
The priests had already begun circulating a decree that would declare her a traitor.
Worse, a vote had been passed in secret—if she ever returned, the child she carried would not be named heir, no matter Thalion's wishes.
Elira let go of the connection with a scream, falling to her knees in the clearing.
The trees trembled.
The earth groaned beneath her fury.
Even the air recoiled.
---
Forestfire
For the first time since her exile, Elira let her power fully awaken.
With a guttural cry, she raised her hands to the sky, calling upon the elements hidden within the forest.
The ground split in jagged lines of gold.
The trees whispered her name.
The birds fled.
> "You want war," she said to the wind, her voice cold and cracked.
"Then war I shall give you."
She burned her sigils into the air — a magical fire, emerald and violet, dancing in symbols above her hands.
It was an ancient invocation — the Call of the Forest Queen.
A spell not cast since the first bloodline ruled the Vale.
And it carried far.
Far enough to reach Thalion.
---
A King in Conflict
Back in the palace, King Thalion stood at his war table when a pulse of magic struck him like a fist to the chest.
He stumbled, grabbing the edge.
> "She's calling," he whispered.
General Virek turned to him. "Sire?"
Thalion's eyes flared with golden light.
> "She's awake. And she's angry."
---
The Hidden Letters
Meanwhile, in Elira's cottage, as her magic died down, she noticed something she hadn't before.
A loose floorboard. Carefully tucked beneath it: a leather pouch containing two sealed letters, written in her own handwriting—but aged and worn like they'd been there for years.
Elira blinked in confusion.
> She hadn't written them.
Not yet.
She opened the first.
> To the child of my body and my vengeance,
Forgive the kingdom before you destroy it. Learn their names before you burn their thrones.
And when you finally walk through fire—don't look back for me. I've already burned enough.
— Your mother.
She felt dizzy. Cold. Shaken.
The handwriting was hers. The phrasing… hers.
But she hadn't written it.
> Was this another trick of her magic?
Or was her power now bending time itself?
---
The Choice
Elira stood at the edge of her clearing as night fell again. The forest had grown quiet — too quiet.
The trees now watched her as an equal.
And the child inside her kicked for the first time.
> "I will not run anymore," she whispered to the stars.
"Let them come. Let them try to tear me down."
The wind rose.
And from deep within the forest, the sound of hooves echoed.
Not Thalion's.
> Someone else was coming.