The air inside Castle Varethos grows stifling after my latest conversation with Nevira. Another string of careful, measured words that dance around the truth without ever touching it. Another dead end.

I need air.

I slip through the massive doors and into the gardens, the stones cool beneath my boots. The sky above glows in its strange muted gold, casting a soft, unnatural light across the grounds. I have walked these paths enough now to know where most of them lead, but tonight, I let my feet wander wherever they wish to take me.

The gardens thin as I move farther out. The manicured hedges give way to wild grass, the air growing cooler, heavier with each step. I realize I have strayed too far when the landscape around me shifts, unfamiliar once more. I turn back, unwilling to risk losing myself.

As I retrace my steps, the surroundings begin to change, the familiar scent of damp stone and cold earth guiding me. The ground slants gently downward, and the trees part just enough for me to recognize where I am. I must be near the bridge, the one that stretches over the River of the Forgotten.

The river is not yet in sight, but I know I am close. I can feel it, the way the mist curls heavier against my skin, the way the silence deepens.

I should keep walking, should hurry toward the bridge and cross back into the heart of the castle grounds.

Instead, I stop.

At the edge of the path, a narrow trail breaks away, disappearing into the trees. The forest.

The one Malphas warned me about.

The mist thickens here, swirling around the gnarled roots and dark trunks. The air grows dense, heavy enough that every breath feels weighted. The trees loom close together, their branches twisted into unnatural shapes. I cannot see far into the woods, but I feel it all the same—a pull, subtle but insistent, as though invisible fingers are brushing against my skin, coaxing me forward.

A prickle races up the back of my neck.

I do not see anything within the forest, but the feeling of being watched burrows beneath my skin.

One step. That is all it would take. One step into the mist, one step down the narrow trail to see what he is so determined to hide from me.

It would be so easy.

He would not even have to know.

The thought curls around me, tempting.

But I remember the way Malphas had looked when he warned me, not with the usual amusement glinting in his black eyes, but with something heavier. Something like fear.

I clench my fists at my sides, grounding myself in the cold, damp earth beneath my feet.

No.

Not tonight.

I tear my gaze from the path and turn away, forcing my steps toward the bridge. My chest feels tight, my hands trembling in a way I cannot quite suppress. I do not slow until I have crossed the bridge and the mist has begun to thin once more.

Even then, I do not breathe easily.

Anger simmers low in my gut. Not at Malphas, not at the forest, but at myself. At the part of me that had almost said yes to the pull, the part that still yearns for something more than cages and warnings.

That night, I toss and turn in the bed that feels too large, too empty. Sleep eludes me, my mind caught in the memory of the mist curling at the forest's edge, of the darkness that seemed to wait just beyond my reach.

Every time I close my eyes, I see it.

Waiting.

Calling.

And despite every rational thought I cling to, some small, reckless part of me wonders what might happen if I answer.

***

The morning, if it can be called that in a realm where the light never truly shifts, brings no peace.

I sit at the small table near the window of my chambers, staring out at the endless gold-tinged sky. A tray of untouched bread and fruit rests beside me, but my appetite, already fickle, has vanished altogether. I spent most of the night tossing beneath the weight of dreams that were not truly dreams, haunted by the whisper of unseen things.

The memory of the forest clings to my mind like damp wool. It should have faded with sleep, but it has not. If anything, it lingers sharper now, a steady hum beneath my skin.

When the soft knock sounds at my door, I nearly drop the cup in my hand.

Nevira enters without waiting for permission, gliding across the floor as if her feet barely touch it. She inclines her head, her hands folded neatly before her.

"Lord Malphas requests your presence," she says.

I set the cup down with more force than necessary. "Does he?"

Nevira says nothing, but there is a glint in her golden eyes, a flicker of something close to pity or perhaps amusement. It is difficult to tell with her.

I rise slowly, smoothing the wrinkles from my skirts out of habit rather than necessity. There is no dust here, no real wear to the fabric, yet I find comfort in the small, human motions that remind me who I am.

Following Nevira through the halls of Castle Varethos is an exercise in patience. The corridors seem longer today, the doors heavier, the shadows stretched thin and taut. Or perhaps it is only me, feeling the weight of what I nearly did.

She leads me not to the throne room or to one of the endless sitting chambers, but to a smaller hall tucked deeper into the castle, a place I have not seen before. The stone walls here are darker, veined with something that pulses faintly, like the remnants of a heartbeat.

Nevira stops before a door of dark wood carved with twisting, unfamiliar runes. She steps aside, inclining her head once more, her meaning clear.

I am to enter alone.

I take a steadying breath, lift my chin, and push the door open.

The chamber beyond is dim, lit only by a scattering of candles that drip dark wax onto the black stone floor. At the far end, seated behind a table laden with strange fruits and gleaming vessels, sits Malphas.

He looks up as I enter, and the air in the room seems to tighten.

"Edrea," he says, his voice low and smooth, like the first note of a song that will not end kindly.

I close the door behind me and step forward, my hands steady despite the unease coiling in my belly.

"You summoned me," I say, keeping my tone even.

"I did."

He gestures to the chair opposite him. I hesitate for only a heartbeat before moving to sit. The chair is surprisingly warm beneath me, as if someone had occupied it only moments before.

For a moment, he says nothing. He watches me, the flickering candlelight catching in his ink-dark hair, the planes of his face carved in shadow.

I meet his gaze, refusing to look away.

"You wandered close to the forest yesterday," he says, finally. Not a question. A statement.

I fold my hands in my lap, my fingers curling into the fabric of my gown. "I stayed on the path."

"Did you?" His mouth curves into something that is not quite a smile.

I lift my chin. "I did not cross the threshold."

"But you thought about it."

The accusation is soft, but it lands heavily between us.

I shift in my seat, the wood creaking faintly beneath me. "You never explained why it was forbidden. Only that it was."

"And that should have been enough," he says, his voice quiet, dangerous.

The silence that falls is thick, pressing against my skin.

I exhale slowly through my nose, gathering the fraying edges of my temper. "If you wish me to obey, you might consider offering reasons, not riddles."

He leans back in his chair, studying me as though I am a puzzle he has yet to solve.

"You are not a creature of obedience," he says, almost to himself. "No, you are a creature of defiance. It burns in you. It is what drew you to me."

The words unsettle me more than I care to admit.

He lifts a goblet from the table, swirling the dark liquid within. "Do you trust me, Edrea?"

I laugh, the sound sharp and humorless. "No."

He seems pleased by the answer.

"Good," he says, setting the goblet down with a soft clink. "You should not."

He rises then, the movement fluid, predatory. He rounds the table slowly, and though every instinct screams at me to stand, to retreat, I remain seated.

When he reaches my side, he stops, looking down at me with a gaze that strips away the layers I wear like armor.

"You would not survive what lies in that forest," he says. "Not yet."

The implication is not lost on me. Not yet. As if survival might one day be possible.

Or necessary.

I tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "And what would you do if I crossed into it?"

He leans closer, his voice a whisper against the shell of my ear. "I would drag you out, kicking and screaming if I must. And I would lock the gates behind you, for your own sake if not for mine."

A shiver ripples down my spine, chased by something hotter, sharper than fear.

He straightens, his expression carefully blank once more. "Come. Walk with me."

Without waiting for my agreement, he turns toward the door.

I rise, smoothing my skirts once more, and follow him into the uncertain twilight of the realm beyond.

The pull of the forest still thrums beneath my skin, but it is not the only pull I feel anymore.