Annemarie woke up to the scent of incense and damp stone, the dim glow of candlelight flickering against the infirmary walls.

  For a long moment, she just lay there, staring at the ceiling, her mind foggy with half-remembered dreams— no, not dreams. Something else. Something bigger. The last thing she remembered clearly was stepping through the portal, a strange pull in her chest, the sudden weightlessness of falling—

  And then, nothing.

  She blinked, shifting slightly. A hand tightened around hers.

  “Anne?”

  Brandon. His voice was hoarse, heavy with exhaustion.

  Annemarie turned her head. He was sitting beside her cot, eyes shadowed with worry, his hair a mess.

  “Hey,” she murmured, her voice scratchy. “You look like hell.”

  He let out a shaky laugh, relief flooding his expression. “I look like hell? You’re the one who went full Exorcist last night.”

  Annemarie frowned. “What?”

  Before Brandon could answer, the door creaked open. Melissa stepped inside, looking equally exhausted. Her eyes widened when she saw Annemarie awake. “Oh, thank God.”

  Julia followed behind her, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. “How do you feel?”

  Annemarie hesitated, then did a quick internal assessment. “Uh… fine? Maybe a little achy?” She sat up slowly, testing her limbs, waiting for some hidden injury to make itself known— but there was nothing. “Better than I should, I guess?”

  Brandon exchanged a glance with Julia. “Anne, you—“ He hesitated. “Something happened to you last night.”

  Annemarie furrowed her brow. “Yeah, I figured. Considering I don’t really remember anything after the portal.”

  Melissa crossed her arms. “Well, you kinda… went all glowy eyes and started speaking in tongues. Cured your head injury with magic, all by yourself.”

  Annemarie blinked. “Oh.”

  “Oh?” Brandon repeated incredulously. “That’s all you have to say?”

  Annemarie rubbed her forehead, trying to process. “I mean, I don’t feel possessed, if that helps?”

  Melissa snorted. “That’s super reassuring.”

  Julia exhaled sharply. “Look, we don’t know what that was, and we don’t have time to sit here and analyze it. Gwri— the healer, Annemarie, you might not remember them— they said it was your magic settling in, and I’m going to take it as it is. We should stick to the plan.”

  Brandon frowned. “The plan.”

  “We go to the keep, talk to Musia and Beryon. Melissa and I get information, you guys get a house. At this point, with the entrance we made, they’re probably expecting us.”

  Melissa perked up slightly. “Right. That makes sense.”

  Annemarie glanced between them, still trying to shake the lingering unease. “Who are Musia and Beryon again?"

  Julia sighed, already slinging her pack over her shoulder. “Old friends of my father. They’ll have answers— or at least, a direction to point us in.”

  Brandon hesitated, looking back at Annemarie. “Are you sure you’re okay? Fine to get moving?”

  Annemarie squared her shoulders. “I’m not going to lie down and act like a victim. My magic settled. I’ll figure out what that means later.” She swung her legs over the side of the cot, testing her balance. “I’m fine.”

  Melissa gave her a skeptical look. “Right. Well, if you do decide to pass out again, please give us some warning, first.”

  Annemarie smirked. “I’ll do my best.”

  Julia rolled her eyes and headed for the door. “Come on. We’re wasting daylight.”

  With that, they left the infirmary, stepping out into the misty morning air.

  The walk to the keep was quiet. The morning mist still clung to the streets of Ismay’s Landing, wrapping around rooftops and softening the edges of the world. It smelled of damp stone and salt from the nearby sea, the air crisp and cool in a way that made Annemarie’s skin prickle.

  She kept glancing at the others, half-expecting them to keep looking at her like she was going to start floating or speaking in tongues again. But if they had those concerns, they weren’t saying anything. She appreciated that.

  Instead, Julia walked ahead, leading them through the winding streets with the surety of someone who’d spent years studying maps and names and stories of a place she’d never set foot in before now.

  Annemarie exhaled, falling into step beside Melissa. “So, this place— Musia and Beryon— they’re important?”

  Melissa shrugged. “According to Julia? Yeah.”

  “They were my father’s friends,” Julia said over her shoulder. “Part of the group that helped Queen Kiernen after the Cleansing of the House of Tormevi.”

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Annemarie frowned. “And now they just… run this place?”

  “More or less,” Julia said. “Musia handles the military training here. Beryon takes care of the civilians. Together, they keep Ismay’s Landing running.”

  They passed through the marketplace, where vendors were just beginning to set up their stalls. The air was thick with the scent of baking bread, woodsmoke, and the faintest trace of something floral drifting from a nearby apothecary.

  Brandon, quiet for most of the walk, finally spoke. “And you think they’ll help us?”

  “They should,” Julia said. “They knew my father. They might have information. And if nothing else, they can help us figure out our next steps.”

  Annemarie wasn’t sure why, but something about this whole situation made her uneasy. Maybe it was the lingering static beneath her skin, the feeling that something inside her had shifted and she didn’t know how to fix it. Or if it even needed fixing.

  Or maybe it was just the fact that, in the span of a day, her entire world had changed.

  No big deal. Totally normal.

  The keep loomed ahead, its stone walls dark with age, banners snapping in the cool morning breeze. It wasn’t particularly large— certainly not a castle— but it was imposing, standing at the highest point of Ismay’s Landing, overlooking the town below.

  As they approached the heavy wooden doors, two guards stepped forward, their hands resting on their weapons. “State your business.”

  Julia squared her shoulders. “We’re here to see Musia and Beryon. Tell them Julia Meier has arrived.”

  One of the guards raised an eyebrow. “Meier? Jahnsdatter?” He studied her, skepticism flickering in his eyes.

  Julia nodded, her posture unwavering.

  The guards exchanged a glance before one turned toward the doors, pushing them open. “Wait here,” he instructed, before disappearing inside.

  The group lingered in the entryway, shifting on their feet. Melissa turned toward Annemarie, voice low. “Well, this is fun.”

  Annemarie huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Real warm welcome.”

  The doors creaked open again, and the guard reappeared, giving Julia one last scrutinizing look before stepping aside. “They’ll see you.”

  Julia didn’t hesitate. With a last glance at the others, she stepped forward into the keep.

  Annemarie followed, heart pounding in her chest.

  The keep’s main hall was spacious but worn, its stone walls bearing the marks of years of use— scratches along the wooden beams, faded banners hanging above the hearth, scuff marks on the flagstone floor. It wasn’t grand, but it was sturdy, and it smelled of parchment, ink, and the faint scent of metal polish.

  Musia and Beryon sat at the long table in the center of the room. Musia, a broad-shouldered woman with graying auburn hair, leaned forward with her elbows braced on the table, her sharp eyes appraising the newcomers. Beryon, leaner and softer in presence, regarded them with quiet interest, his hands folded before him.

  Julia didn’t wait for formalities, pulling out a chair across from the pair and plopping into it. “We need help.”

  Musia snorted. “Figured as much. You wouldn’t have come here otherwise.”

  Beryon smiled, though his gaze was just as assessing. “Let’s start with the basics. You’re Jahn’s daughter.”

  Julia nodded. “Julia Meier. And this is Melissa Ramirez, Annemarie Bennett, and Brandon Larimer. They’re all from Earth.”

  Beryon’s eyes flickered with recognition, but Musia’s expression didn’t change. “Right. And why exactly are you here?”

  Julia took a deep breath. “My father disappeared twelve years ago. I know the last place he was sent was Lyn Iddal, in the Empire of Lashaar.” Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. “I need to know what happened to him. And if he was murdered, I need to find out who did it.”

  Melissa nodded beside her. “I’m here to hold while she punches.”

  Beryon leaned back slightly, exchanging a glance with Musia. The older woman exhaled through her nose. “Well. That’s a hell of a task you’re setting for yourselves.”

  Julia clenched her jaw. “I didn’t come here to sit still.”

  Musia tilted her head. “No, I imagine you didn’t.” She drummed her fingers against the tabletop, considering. “You want answers, and you want a plan. Good. Then here’s what I suggest— you go to Atriane. Kiernen Tormevi is there. If anyone can point you in the right direction, it’s her.”

  Julia frowned. “Just like that? How the hell am I supposed to get an audience?”

  Musia shrugged. “She’ll want to see you. And you were going to have to make the trip eventually. Conveniently, a group of soldiers are heading to Di’raz in the next few days. That’s already halfway to Atriane. They’re taking a civilian along already— two more shouldn’t make a difference.”

  Julia crossed her arms, weighing the plan. It made sense. Atriane was where Kiernen was gathering her strength, consolidating what was left of Milana’s power. If there were resources to be had, allies to be found, information to be uncovered, they’d be there.

  Melissa looked at her. “That works for me.”

  Julia nodded. “Alright— we’ll go to Atriane.”

  Musia leaned back, satisfied. “Good. Then that’s settled.”

  Beryon turned to Annemarie and Brandon. “And what about you two? Annemarie, are you feeling better?”

  Annemarie flinched, suddenly feeling the weight of all eyes on her. She glanced at Brandon before straightening her shoulders. “We… we wanted to move here. Settle somewhere we can have a family.”

  Beryon smiled. “Ismay’s Landing isn’t a bad place to stay. And, as it happens, there’s an empty house on the north side of town, near the carpenter’s yard. It’ll need some repairs, but it’s livable. You can stay there until you decide whether to build something of your own.”

  Brandon’s eyes lit up, and Annemarie could feel his excitement beside her. He loved a project— loved the idea of building something with his own hands.

  “That sounds perfect,” he said, unable to keep the eagerness from his voice.

  Annemarie gave him a small smile. She wasn’t completely sure about staying in Aleria forever, but for now? It felt like the right decision.

  Beryon nodded. “I’ll take you to see it later today.”

  For the moment, there was a sense of stability— of plans falling into place.

  Then Musia’s gaze flicked to Annemarie, sharp and thoughtful. “But before we all get too comfortable,” she said, “there’s still the matter of whatever the hell happened to you last night.”

  The warmth of the moment drained from Annemarie’s chest. Silence hung heavy in the air.

  “She spoke in a language none of us understood,” Melissa said, breaking the tension. “Except Julia recognized the name Tormevi, and Byfox was probably— what did you say?— swallowed by the Mirrorwood Curse?”

  Beryon’s expression darkened. “Byfox fell two years ago.”

  Julia’s mouth pressed into a tight line. “She shouldn’t have been able to know about it. I don’t think I ever even mentioned Byfox to them.”

  Annemarie swallowed. She felt fine now— aside from the lingering unease in her bones, like an itch beneath her skin she couldn’t quite scratch.

  Musia exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down her face. “Seers usually get cryptic visions, but that? Gwri told me exactly what happened, and that seemed too violent to be normal.”

  Brandon’s grip on Annemarie’s hand tightened slightly. “So what does that mean?”

  Musia studied Annemarie for a long moment before shaking her head. “With luck, it was just her body adjusting to the magic. But if it happens again, we need to be ready.”

  Annemarie tried to ignore the way her stomach twisted at the thought. She had a sinking feeling that this— whatever had happened to her— was far from over.