I'm awoken by the steady march of boots hitting the hallway outside my door. Legions of guards, all in perfect formation, jog past, their shadows pooling underneath the crack between the floor and wood.

Is it morning already?

I raise myself from the bottom of the bed, scratching at the knots in my hair. I must've fallen asleep. And before I could come to terms with the smartest decision on how to move forward with Cloak. Now that I've slept and allowed my dreams to carry me away from reality, that doesn't seem like such a monumental occurrence anymore.

The shouting taking place in the hallway is. Beyond the curtains pulled tight against my windows, the sky is still dark. Nearly every morning, legions of guards test their formations and execution plans in case someone—or something—invades the capital. Beyond my door, their calculated steps never rise louder than the clopping of a horse's hooves against stone. Always uniform, in line, and following a steady rhythm.

Their steps are faulty, rushed, and accompanied by fear. I scatter for a pair of decent clothes, practically tearing off my silk pajamas to tug on trousers, a tunic, and a fur-lined coat that cinches at the waist. I'm tying the laces of my boots when I hear Cloak's shouting voice beyond my door, urging them to move, move, move. Like I did when he kissed me, my body goes taut, unable to stir.

Something is wrong. Something is here. No one trains in the middle of the night, and if they did, they would stick to the training room on a higher floor in the palace, and Cloak wouldn't participate.

My hands won't steady, so I finish with loose knots and tug on gloves. What happened hours ago fades away from my mind like water being thrown onto a fire, steam wafting into the air. Terror has risen, and the first line of defense won't be the soldiers, the guards, the royal children, or the queen herself. The innocent people in the capital won't have anywhere to go if they are the target meant to pass through to get to the palace.

I rush to the door and crack it open. The continuing haste of guards solidifies my worries that something is here. Normally, their training would be over by now—to a different hallway full of closed doors and frost-bitten windows. A cold wind moves with those bodies and slithers within their forces, brushing back the strands of brown hair framing my face.

At the front of them all, I catch sight of Cloak rounding the corner, his horns raising taller than all the rest. A gold-lined cloak over his features. A shiver grabs onto my spine and shakes hard, rattling me to the core.

Their weapons and armor weigh them down, but they move as steadily as if they are free.

Slipping out from my chambers, I ease the door shut behind me and slink along the wall once the guards have passed. The echo of their bodies remains in my ears and I follow the sound of it, breaking into a jog that takes me down flights of staircases, around twisting corners, and down complicated and tightly wound towers. All the while, I run my hand along the wall to keep from losing my composure.

In my head, a list of people has formed. Those I need to protect and keep an eye on. Castiel is at the top of that list along with Chaska and Theoden. They can't protect themselves in the capital; my poor brother can't even walk. I take solace in knowing a Luminary is with them, protecting my brother and my adoptive father at all costs. Chaska, one of three Luminary friends I possess, remains more hidden than I am. Her power is identical to my own, but I am one of few that knows her secret.

Even Gustus, able to spot a Luminary from the start, never noticed that Chaska is more than she seems. Some Luminaries are harder to detect than others.

I have to find a way to get out of this palace, all the while avoiding the threat on the outside. Even if it's something minor, my family stands to lose something. The royals, the poor living in the slums, the weak and inexperienced—everyone stands to lose something they have gained. A life, the ability to walk, a loved one. Whatever happens, I won't be the one to grieve tonight.

Rounding a corner that transcends down a staircase, someone runs into me from the opposite hallway. Someone larger, more experienced, and prone to taking out others without reason. I nearly slam against the opposite wall if not for Aela, princess of Rivian and personal guard to the queen, grabbing onto my arm to throw me back to a standing position.

She hardly wastes a moment, completely unlike her, before moving on. She's the only familiar face I have come across since Cloak dashed around the corner before spotting me. I didn't see the fortitude in his eyes, but I know it is there. He stands to lose plenty.

"What's going on?" I shout after Aela. She runs down the hallway and I chase her, trying to order my legs into keeping up with her long, fast strides.

She slows only for a second. "Something is attempting to bring down the northern walls of the city from where they're risen."

I finally catch up to her, maintaining a jogging pace that she slows for me. "What does that mean? Could that threat make its way into the city?"

"I don't know." She shrugs to the best of her ability while jogging. "I urge you to stay at the palace; it's probably nothing."

"I can provide healing assistance," I counter.

Aela leaves only a fraction of room for me to walk briskly down a twisting staircase bordering the side of a tower so I slink behind her, nearly feeling the cold rush of her pauldron.

"We might not need healing assistance." Golden curls bounce lavishly against her shoulders. Underneath her breath, she says, "At least not yet."

She breaks through a door that leads to the courtyard and I follow behind. Immediately, Aela disappears in the crowd, and though I crane my neck to find her, the legions of guards swallow her up and cover her in a layer of silver armor and weapons. I need to get into the capital, and these distracted guards are the perfect way to do that.

Like I did inside the palace, I use the wall as my guide. The cold stone seeps through my leather gloves and stings my fingers. I trail along the circular wall that encompasses the courtyard until I sneak underneath a raised portcullis to the stables where the Panjandrum Corps store their horses.

Beyond wooden pens, saddles, heaps of straw and hay, and stacks of barrels so high, I'd think them to fall against the faintest of blows, I spot Pip. The horse gifted to me without word when I joined the Panjandrum Corps on their journeys. They went to kill Luminaries; I tagged along to save them.

No longer a pack horse, Pip now has a larger and more accommodating stable for his small body. I unhook the latch and guide him out with a simple wave of my hand. Pip, behaving like the nonchalant and careless horse he is, hardly pays me any heed as I gather a wooden crate and place it next to his side. He chomps on a bite of wheat hay. "Okay, Pip," I whisper. "Don't move."

I gather my strength, along with my pride, and leap from the crate, practically sliding onto Pip's bare back. He shakes out his mane carelessly, jerking his head up and down to tear apart a clump of hay from the flake. Beyond the stables, I hear the shouted order from Cloak to head out. They're moving to the city and beyond, to the northern walls. If they maintain a tight formation, I'll have more than enough time to head out the back entrance of the courtyard and go around, sneaking through farther streets to reach Theoden's home.

Pip doesn't throw a fit when I gather his mane in my fist and nudge him forward. He takes one last bite for the road and heads for the doors, his hooves giving a quiet clop over the scattered straw on the stable floors. For my luck, the back gates are already open after an earlier legion left to discover the fuss. I still don't know what that is; whether a legitimate threat or something we'll brush off with a laugh. Either way, I need to warn my family.

The cold world blurs past my watering eyes. Pip breaks into a gallop just as Cloak's legion takes the moat into the capital. Taking the back route will be a longer trek for Pip, but we'll be out of sight from the royal family's wandering eyes. I have yet to see the queen, and I have a strong suspicion that she won't show her face. This isn't her battle—but the kingdom's. Many citizens believe those two are one and the same.

Exole's streets are empty towards the palace and the thicker parts of the city. Normally, the closed-in streets are packed with people trampling over the fresh snow, even at this hour, but they're as bare as ghost towns in the middle of this night. My skin shivers, teeth chattering, but I swallow down winter's pain and focus on the road ahead. Pip takes sharp corners with ease, skids over ice without restraint, and makes his way to the northern part of the city so fast, I feel as though I don't have time to blink. When I do, my entire body shudders in response.

I pull on Pip's mane and force him to stop. We're down the street from Theoden's residence, but I can't get through. Unlike the previous streets, the northern part is packed with people. Their fast chattering burns my ears and throat, quick orders to border up their windows and doors. Something is here, they mutter. We must hurry, they plead.

Like the proper palace horse, Pip doesn't move a muscle when I dismount onto the frozen street. The trench in the middle creates a slight dip for water runoff and catches most of the drip from overhead bridges and arches for speedy travel against a higher part of the city. Hammers slam into wood and nails dig deep from the insides of residences, and I realize quickly that Theoden's dwelling is the same.

I hear his hurried voice from the inside telling Chaska to put a board against the window. No one hears my knock against the door as the hammer on the other side is stronger. But when I peek my head into the window, squinting into the dark at my brother wringing his hands in the entryway, feeling more than trapped in his wheelchair, Chaska squeals out of fear.

"She's here!" Theoden shouts and pries open the window. "Come, get in."

They already barricaded the door shut. "You know of the threat?" I ask.

"We don't know what it is," Chaska answers for all of us. "But everyone else on this street believes we're too close to the danger to be careless, so we're boarding up."

I try to take a deep breath, but find it difficult. The guards stomp by, turning my attention, and I must decide. My family, or the city. One and the same, but much different methods and outcomes. I can stay here and hide away, hoping for the best, or I can go myself to see what is about to happen on the edge of Exole. Being that the threat is coming from the northern part of the city, the Void Queen has to have something to do with this, and my nightmares have officially come to life.

It can't be. She's not here yet.

I feel like I should sense her before she arrives, or at least receive a warning when she thinks of taking a city that once belonged to her. This kingdom, a throne, a crown—she used to relish in Rivian riches until King Arithmud saw her as nothing more than the life she should've created. One thing I've learned about Luminaries is that their fertility wavers when their body is too busy focusing on how to control one of the strongest powers in the world.

"Move, Marie," Theoden orders, throwing me from my thoughts. I discover I'm staring at Pip, and not for a second, paying attention as I should. My body wishes to go elsewhere. "Come inside so we can board the window."

"The threat is something small," I blurt before considering the volume of those words. Theoden furrows his dark brows. "It won't affect the city."

Chaska presents herself, waggling a finger at me before she can utter a word. "You're not going out there alone. It's too dangerous," she snaps.

"I saw the report. It's only angry citizens."

"Even if this is something small—"

"Step back, Chaska," Theoden speaks up, practically shoving her back with his arm. He grants me a look of sorrow, and one of silent worry that I won't return home. But he understands what I have to do for myself, for the city, for the royals.

My life has never been his to protect. By the time my parents passed away, I was old enough to handle myself, but hadn't blossomed into the person I was meant to be. Now that we live in the palace, free from Gudgeon's borders, I am what the world has made me. Theoden is aware of that. He can do everything he wishes to ensure Chaska and Castiel make it out alive, and the old man knows, in the bottom of his heart, that I'll make the right decision. Whatever it may be, he doesn't have to tell me to use my head.

If that wasn't my first impulse, I wouldn't be here.

"Theoden, you can't let her go out there alone," Chaska protests, but the old man is already picking up a board to cover the window with. I hear Castiel's wheelchair squeak across the floorboards. "It's not safe." Her voice cracks, breaking my heart while I back away.

Then, my brother's voice cuts through the board thumping against the window. I stare at it, at the rotting wood and perfectly cut planks. "Marie will be fine, Chaska. We must believe her. Angry citizens are handled nearly every night," Castiel reassures.

She swears under her breath. The board raises higher with her assistance, and a moment later, the hammer slams nails into the planks.

"Be careful, Marie!" Castiel shouts from the other side. I take one step forward, towards him, but he's already past the barrier. My hand falls back to my side, inches away from pressing to the wood to push it back down, and I stand in silence to catch my breath. Just for a moment.

I must remind myself that the threat might actually be something minor. The Luminary that controls the ambitious side of me pushes back, towards Pip, and clogs my throat. I want to say something, to tell my brother I love him and I'll return, or at least apologize to Chaska for making her stay here when my best friend wishes to protect the city with me, but nothing comes. Not a single word.

Within my head, I wish them farewell and run back to Pip, practically leaping on his back without a crate. The loyal and unmoving beast.

He moves through the crowd with ease. I don't have to take random routes to know where to go. The crowd gathering at the wall, where the newest construction is beginning to cover the edge of the border leading to the Void Territory, is a beacon of chaos. Every exotic beast, dawning ordinary clothes and torches to light this frosted night, gather in groups. Pip moves past them all and we listen to their questions.

What could it be?

Should we return home?

Will the officials protect us?

I can't answer their questions at this moment. My cold breath clouds in front of my face, but I still muster the ability to look up at that towering wall of stone reaching towards the sky. It's not nearly close to being done, many of the territories are still prone to an open, yet monitored border, but the queen of Rivian ordered the wall be built close enough to the Void Territory that her sister couldn't get through. Once the wall is up, a magical barrier applied to the stone, Wyetta Terravale could never walk into the city without feeling the cold grip of shackles on her wrists.

No sign of the royals yet. Where did they go?

Clothed officials, guards in uniform and soldiers dawning armor of the kingdom's colors, stand around to monitor the crowd. I don't search for faces I won't recognize, only one that'll loosen the knot tying itself tighter in my chest. Even one of his siblings would suffice. Gustus, too. He must protect himself.

Pip pushes his way to the front of the crowd where the workings of the border wall tower at our side. The crowd disperses and litters the open field before the distant jagged rocks protecting us from the horrors of the Void. A white field once covered in snow, now trampled in footprints and hot bodies preparing themselves for battle.

And I see why. The dark, jagged rocks capped in snow don't move. The black armor covering bodies of the dead, their horned helmets untouched by winter's frost, drop a dark blanket over the Void. My blood runs cold, ice burning in my throat.

The army of the soulless.

In the distance, they march towards us and follow the beat of a drum. I recognize the rhythm more than I do the queen's men. That night in Gudgeon, before I was a Luminary and before they killed my parents, I heard them march in perfect formation. Castiel and I nearly died against a soldier that had spotted us in the alleyway next to our house.

In my nightmares, that single march of iron-toed boots comes back to me. Then, that soulless soldier attempts to take my head again.

I think the worst of their approach has been realized. I squint hard into the distance at the same moment my power roils underneath my coat. My heart clenches and steals breath. The Luminary is trying to warn me of something.

I catch a glimmer of silver, not black like the remainder of her soldiers. Marching at the front, her long, silver hair billowing over her shoulder, Wyetta Terravale raises her hand. Her army stops at once. Even from our distance apart, I see her smirk.

Then, her voice. Not to the world, but in my skull.

Little elf.