But the Etherblooms grew only in Nyxarra. And so the desperate still came—offering bargains, blood, even their names, dedicating themselves to the realm in exchange for one last chance at peace. Desperation, it seemed, was the only currency the realm never turned away.
My legs protested, stiff from too little rest, but there was no time to linger. The longer I stayed still, the longer I was away from Aeryn.
So I climbed.
I hadn’t expected to make it halfway up the mountain, let alone this far.
But as the path crested, the slope leveled into a wide, snow-swept landing—and there, just a stone’s throw away, stood the very entrance I’d come for.
I looked up at the towering gates of Nyxarra, their black iron bars twisting like the ribs of some ancient beast, stretching so high they disappeared into the swirling clouds above. The metal, slick with frost, pulsed with an unnatural chill that crept beneath my skin. Beyond the bars, the fog thickened.
My breath came shallow, visible in bursts before vanishing into the frost. The snow muted everything—my footfalls, the wind, even the rasp of my own exhaustion.
So when it happened, there was no warning.
A hand—ice-cold, gloved—clamped suddenly around my face, pressing my jaw shut, fingers digging into my cheekbones. I reeled backward and struck something unyielding. A chest, hard and cold as iron beneath leather.
Close. So close that I could feel the rise and fall of its breath, steady and unnervingly calm.
“State your name and business here,” the voice growled, inches from my ear. A man’s voice, though the voice was wrong. Too close, yet somehow frayed around the edges like it was unraveling, like it didn’t belong entirely to one place.
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t reach for my blade. My shoulders stayed loose; my grip closed quietly around the hook at my belt.
But my mind raced. Fast. A dozen connections clicked into place.
I steadied my breath. Swallowed the urge to strike first.
“Moirae,” I answered, voice calm despite the shiver crawling up my spine—thin and sharp as phantom spider legs along my neck, my jaw, the edges of my mind. “Aurelia Moirae.”
His grip faltered. Just slightly. But enough.
All those years of training kicked in before I could think. Hayat’s voice whispered in the back of my mind.
Use their weight. Take their balance. Don’t hesitate.
I slipped my arm through the man’s and twisted. He hit the ground with a muffled thud, the snow swallowing the sound.
My boots crunched as I stepped over him—not running, but not stalling either. Every movement measured. Deliberate. Panic begged me to sprint, but training held me steady.
Not because I wasn’t afraid—gods, I was—but because fear had never once saved me. I just needed to reach the gates.
I glanced back, every sense straining. But he was gone. Completely. The snow lay undisturbed. My spine went rigid. I scanned the shadows, hands relaxed at my sides—ready. The gates loomed ahead. I moved toward them, pulse ticking high beneath my skin.
The journey had been long. I was tired. Maybe too tired. Maybe I was imagining things. Maybe I was dreaming again.
It happened sometimes—these slips. Unwelcome. Uncontrolled. Dreams tangled with memory. Memory tangled with truth. Sometimes I woke gasping with someone else’s grief in my mouth. Sometimes I wasn’t sure I’d woken at all.
But the ache in my muscles was real. The snow underfoot.
I bit the inside of my cheek. Pain bloomed. Awake.
I was making my way across the snowy landing when the mist found me—before I ever set foot inside Nyxarra.
Legends said the mist was alive—sentient. It didn’t roll in so much as it crept. A quiet predator coiling around tree trunks, winding through roots and stones, seeping into lungs and thought.
They said it began just beyond the Veil, past the last ridgeline where the cliffs fell away and the air thinned—where even the wind forgot its shape.
We called it the In-Between. Not the forest of Nyxarra. Not the upper woods. Just that: a nowhere place. Neither here nor there. Aplace where the laws of the living bent and blurred, where sound traveled wrong and time unspooled like thread.