ines, curling around the skeletal trees like fingers tugging at forgotten cloth. Above, the moon had not yet risen, but the sky had bruised itself i

raw from the earlier struggle, though no one acknowledged it had happened. The guards had said nothing as they shoved her int

as e

crif

plead with the bishop whose eyes had glossed over like oiled stone. "The girl i

not bless. It was said the veil between life and death thinned there. That the moon turned

k her. Warnings disguised as folklore: never follow the music past the trees, neve

s. It was darker here, though the sun had not yet set. The forest was dense, ancient, with trees s

last remnants of the civilized world fall away. Her b

ses whinnied, agitated. O

he hea

ho

est like smoke. The guards stiffened, hands goi

fox," someo

idn't be

t the howl had already settled into her bones. It was not the cr

ed the man

y corner, their faces eroded by time. The gates were rusted iron, and beyond them, the garden was a ta

ng open with a groa

a

that moved like smoke. His eyes were dark

a gloved han

idn't

expected,

rate?" she asked. "W

head. "Do you

d without warning, the coach turned and

nstead, he turned and walked through the

ir thick with old incense and rot. Candles flickered to life in niches as

res with eyes th

the others?

are no

who ar

ase, glancing over his shoulder

ark wood, canopied with moth-eaten velvet. A mirror, cracked and clouded, leaned against on

ith trembling hands.

window, the

ught of

w what happened to girls who

er shoulders, she heard another howl-closer

d, layered in the ec

na

d like a

old

ow. And in her dreams, the forest burned,

cled above her, their wings ink-black against the red sky. Something heavy pulsed in her ches

the fire whispered. "You

hed for

ke, the wind

of wolves ling

and birthright that shivered through her bones. Isolde stood on unsteady feet, her hands trembling as she approached the

the curta

ss had already