My pulse pounds in my ears as I race through the forest. The silver moon shines brightly overhead, illuminating my path. I do not know if I go to my salvation or my end; I only understand that I have no other choice. My course was decided by fate long ago, and now I go bravely to meet it.
Everyone knows better than to enter the forest during the silver moon cycle when the magical veil is thin between the human and Fae kingdoms. Trickster Fae are said to wander the woods during this time, casting enchantments on any passerby. They whisk their victims away to their magical lands, never to be heard from again.
Even so… I’d rather take my chances with the Fae than the witch I call my stepmother.
Clutching the torn parchment tightly to my chest, I push through the dense bramble. Thick vines and branches grasp at my form like wiry, skeletal hands, tearing at the fabric of my cloak and tangling in my long, chestnut hair. I do not know whether the magic of the forest is trying to stop me or my fears merely lend the woods their sinister appearance. I only know that whatever future I race toward tonight is better than the one I leave behind me.
My body aches in protest as I press on. With each step, the echoes of remembered pain burn like fire across the torn flesh of my back. An image of my wicked stepmother standing over my crumpled form, the bloody lash still clutched tight in her hand, surfaces in my mind.
She’ll pursue me as soon as she realizes what I’ve stolen from her. I glance down again at the rolled parchment in my hand, praying that the spell will work. If I cannot escape into the Fae kingdom tonight, I do not know where else I can take shelter from my stepmother’s wrath. Their lands are the only place I know for certain that her magic holds no power.
This is what fate must have intended for me. My mother was a seer. Her whispered words as she lay dying made little sense at the time, but now that I am older, I understand their intent.
Ahead, I notice the abandoned wooden cottage I discovered many years ago, telling me I’m on the right path. The glowing wall of the veil appears a moment later, sparking hope in my chest. Warmth steals through me as the power of the barrier pulses in warning, trying to dissuade me from coming any closer. It waxes and wanes, allowing glimpses of the other side that would normally be invisible.
I drop to my knees before the veil and unroll the stolen parchment. The silver light of the moon illuminates the sacred text; the letters glow brightly against the worn, yellowing page.
Closing my eyes, I can still remember my mother’s voice as she gave me her last words before she died. On the night of your twenty-third birthday, go to the barrier that separates our kind from the Fae. Be brave, my Ella. Deep in the forest, you will find your destiny.
