Morning came sluggishly, dragging yet another damp mist through the streets of Ismay’s Landing. The sky was a dull gray, the kind that made it impossible to tell what time it was, and the scent of last night’s rain clung to everything— wood, stone, and earth, heavy with the promise of more to come.

  Melissa woke with a dull headache and an even duller sense of regret.

  She groaned, rolling onto her side, the thin mattress doing little to cushion the impact. Sunlight— or what passed for it— filtered through the warped wooden shutters, doing its best to stab through her skull. The empty wine bottle on the nightstand taunted her. “Ugh.”

  From across the room, Julia stirred, her face half-buried in a ratty pillow. “Told you,” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep. “Told you not to drink the whole bottle.”

  Melissa exhaled through her nose. “It was half a bottle.”

  Julia cracked an eye open. “That’s a goddamn lie.”

  Melissa winced, sitting up slowly. “Fine. Three quarters. Happy?”

  Julia only groaned in response, turning onto her back. “Still a lie. Did you even sleep?”

  Melissa scrubbed a hand over her face. “Tried to. My brain didn’t get the memo.” She looked down at her wrinkled tunic and the way her boots were still haphazardly kicked off at the foot of the bed. “Shit. What time is it?”

  Julia stretched, groaning as her back popped. “Morning enough. We should get moving— check on Annemarie.”

  Melissa grunted in acknowledgment, forcing herself to stand. The room swayed slightly, but not enough to warrant concern. “Brandon’s got it for now. Breakfast first,” she decided. “And coffee.”

  Julia shot her an unimpressed look. “You get to tell Gunnild we’re paying for last night’s room in trade goods.”

  Melissa waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve got stuff to pawn. I’m not some freeloader.”

  They gathered their things in relative silence, both too drained to bicker much. Julia pulled on her still-damp skirt, buckled her belt, and adjusted the weight of her pack with the practiced efficiency of someone who had planned this trip for years.

  Melissa, on the other hand, made a half-hearted attempt to smooth out her rumpled clothes before giving up entirely.

  “Come on,” Julia said, shouldering her pack. “Let’s get this over with.”

  The Hammer’s Respite was already bustling by the time they descended the stairs. The scent of frying bread and spiced sausage filled the air, cutting through the lingering staleness of ale and old woodsmoke.

  Gunnild, the teenaged tavern keeper, was behind the counter again, balancing a tray of mugs while exchanging sharp remarks with a patron twice her size. She glanced up as Melissa and Julia approached and smirked. “You look fantastic,” she said dryly.

  Melissa made a rude gesture before slumping onto a stool. “Please tell me you have coffee.”

  Gunnild snorted. “How rich do you think we are? I have tea. And a whole lot of water, which you definitely need.”

  Julia slid onto the stool beside her, placing a small bundle wrapped in cloth onto the counter. “For the room,” she said.

  Gunnild raised an eyebrow, unwrapping the bundle with quick fingers. Inside was a pair of delicate silver earrings and a ring with an inlaid stone— things they had brought from Earth to sell, just as planned.

  She turned the ring over in her fingers, appraising. “Not bad,” she admitted, tucking them away. “That’ll cover the room and some food. You’ll still need coin eventually, though.”

  “Working on it,” Julia muttered.

  Melissa barely registered the exchange, too busy sipping the strong, bitter tea Gunnild set in front of her.

  She had nearly finished the cup when the tavern door banged open, letting in a gust of cool air— and a flurry of movement.

  A boy no older than thirteen sprinted inside, face flushed, panting hard. “Gwri says to come now!” he blurted, eyes wide as he spotted Julia and Melissa. “Something’s happening to Annemarie!”

  Melissa nearly knocked over her cup in her haste to stand.

  Julia was already moving, hand instinctively going to her belt. “Go,” she told Melissa. “She’s your cousin. I’ll settle things here.”

  Melissa didn’t argue. She was out the door in an instant, heart pounding, ignoring the way her head throbbed with every step.

  She didn’t stop running.

  Melissa skidded into the infirmary, breath coming fast, her pulse thudding in her ears. The scent of incense was stronger now, thick enough to choke, barely masking the metallic tang of medicine and something deeper— something gone bad.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Brandon was already at Annemarie’s bedside, knuckles white where he gripped her hand. His eyes snapped up as Melissa stumbled in, his face pale, tense. “She—“ His voice caught. He swallowed. “Something’s wrong.”

  Melissa followed his gaze.

  Annemarie lay deathly still against the infirmary cot, her chest rising and falling in slow, unnatural intervals. Beads of sweat clung to her forehead, dampening her hair. But her skin was pale— too pale, a sickly, almost translucent hue beneath the candlelight.

  And her lips were moving. Soundless. Restless. Forming words that shouldn’t exist. The air around her shimmered with static.

  “What the fuck,” Melissa breathed.

  Gwri was beside the cot, fingers hovering over Annemarie’s forehead, eyes narrowed in deep concentration. The healer’s sleeves were rolled up, exposing the silver-threaded tattoos that lined their arms. Magic hummed in the air, barely visible, pulsing faintly beneath their fingertips.

  “Her magic is settling, but she’s slipping,” they muttered. “Somewhere between waking and—“ They cut off, shaking their head. “I don’t know where.”

  Julia barreled in a second later, slightly out of breath. She took one look at Annemarie and froze. “Shit.”

  “Yeah,” Melissa snapped. “Shit. What do we do?”

  Gwri exhaled sharply. “We wait. We watch. And we don’t touch her. Something is moving through her, and I don’t know what happens if we interrupt.”

  Melissa’s stomach twisted, and it wasn’t the hangover. “Moving through her?”

  Gwri shot her a sharp look. “Do you want me to lie to you?”

  Brandon’s fingers flexed where they lay next to Annemarie’s hand. “Anne,” he murmured, voice shaking. “You’re safe, okay? You’re here. Just come back to me.”

  For a moment, nothing changed.

  Then Annemarie’s back arched, a strangled sound escaping her throat. The room crackled. Her eyes snapped open— glowing, the same eerie blue as before, but brighter, filled with something vast, something old.

  The candlelight flickered wildly, shadows stretching long across the walls. And then— she spoke.

  “Ir teith me— e Byfox. E me alánder, e Tormevi. E Callista.”

  The words hit like a shockwave. The lanterns rattled. The air thickened, pressing down on Melissa’s chest.

  Gwri swore under their breath, hands moving in a series of quick, intricate gestures. Threads of pale light wove between their fingers, shifting like something alive. “She’s channeling something,” they muttered. “A vision. A memory. But Saints— it’s strong—“

  Brandon was shaking. “What does it mean?”

  Gwri didn’t answer.

  Annemarie gasped. Her body jerked once— violently— before she collapsed back against the cot.

  Silence slammed into the room.

  Melissa barely registered that she had stopped breathing until her lungs burned.

  Annemarie’s eyes fluttered shut. The glow faded. Her breathing slowed.

  She was still.

  Brandon let out a broken sound, his forehead dropping to her limp hand.

  Gwri sat back, exhaling heavily. Their hands were trembling, the magic dissipating like mist. “Saints above,” they murmured.

  Julia, pale and stiff, swallowed hard. “Byfox,” she repeated, voice low. “Tormevi. And someone named Callista.”

  Melissa turned sharply to her. “You know what that means?”

  Julia’s jaw tightened. “Yeah,” she said. “I mean, sort of. But yeah. I do.”

  The silence in the infirmary was suffocating.

  Annemarie lay still, her breathing slow but steady, her face damp with sweat. The eerie blue glow that had filled the room only moments ago had faded, leaving behind only the flickering warmth of candlelight.

  Melissa let out a slow breath, glancing between Julia and Gwri. “So. That was… normal?”

  Gwri shot her a flat look. “No. That was the opposite of normal.” They wiped a hand down their face, still visibly rattled. “Most people come into their magic gently. As children. But she’s older, and whatever latent abilities she has must have stagnated in your world. Festered. That was… that was too strong. Even for a Seer.”

  Brandon didn’t look up from where he now gripped Annemarie’s hand. His knuckles were white. “A Seer,” he muttered, voice raw. “I don’t know what that means.”

  Gwri exhaled sharply. “I know Seers get visions. I know most of them can control when they happen. This? This was something else.”

  Julia stood near the wall, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her face pinched in thought. “If this was a vision…”

  Melissa shot her a look. “What do you mean?”

  Julia hesitated. The words Annemarie had spoken still echoed in her mind, sharp and heavy with meaning she didn’t fully grasp.

  Ir teith me… e Byfox… e me alánder e Tormevi… e Callista.

  She knew one name for certain— Tormevi. The name of Milana’s last ruling house. The name of the woman her father was fighting for when he disappeared. Byfox, though? That was different. Her father had mentioned it maybe once or twice, but she’d never been there. And something about the name prickled at her memory.

  The realization hit her like a stone dropping into her stomach. “Byfox,” she said slowly. “That’s in Milana.”

  Gwri and Brandon both looked up.

  Melissa frowned. “Okay, but what does that mean?”

  Julia inhaled sharply. “It means it’s probably gone.”

  Brandon tensed. “What?”

  “The Mirrorwood Curse,” Julia said, the words thick on her tongue. “It started in Milana, right after the Cleansing of the House of Tormevi. A creeping darkness that’s been swallowing entire cities for the last… thirty years? Moorpond was the first to fall, but if Byfox was taken too…” she trailed off.

  Brandon looked down at Annemarie, his face pale. “Then how the hell does she know that? She’s never even been here before.”

  Melissa frowned, rubbing her arms. “And Callista? That’s another name she said, right?”

  Julia nodded. “Maybe she’s from there? Or has something to do with it?”

  Gwri leaned back, arms crossed, eyes dark with thought. “Byfox fell two years ago, but before then, there was a massacre. The entire Nazenne family was murdered.”

  Melissa made a frustrated sound. “So, what do we do? Just wait for the next freaky glowing episode and hope we get another cryptic message?”

  Gwri’s expression hardened. “No. We’ll figure it out.”

  Julia glanced at Annemarie’s sleeping form, her stomach twisting. Something was deeply, seriously wrong. And she had the sinking feeling this was only the beginning.

  will be completed- no worries! It will be rough, as I'm in the process of editing, but I got a little overzealous and figured the worst that could happen in posting was feedback. xD