✩

the beginning

❝ you're a weapon; and weapons don't weep. ❞

✩

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 deep within the snow-veiled woods of the Winter Court, Caelemin had grown accustomed to surviving by any means necessary. Preying on what little wildlife wandered nearby, scavenging scraps, and, if desperate enough, stealing from merchants who strayed too close to the forest's edge.

The woods were an endless labyrinth of icy winds and knee-deep snow. The only good thing about the relentless cold was that it drove animals deeper into the thicket, searching for warmth. Warmth, however, was a luxury Caelemin no longer had.

No heated blankets, no padded cloaks, not even the faint comfort of a fire—risking flames would be putting a target on her back.

For she was on the run.

Caelemin had managed to flee the Court of Dawn, slipping through its borders and crossing into the neighboring Courts undetected. It hadn't been easy: stowing away in carriages, scaling walls, and leaving a trail of blood behind her. Anyone who got a good look at her face never lived long enough to report it.

She knew the guards were scouring the cities—combing marketplaces, interrogating innkeepers, even breaking down doors. It was only a matter of time before they reached the woods.

Two nights ago, she'd almost gotten caught. A small doe had lured her too far from her usual haunts, and just as she was preparing to pounce, the glint of frost-blue uniforms slashed through the shadows. Three of them, Winter Court guards, armed to the teeth and scanning the forest like wolves scenting blood.

She could have taken them—easily, if she weren't running on fumes. Days without food and the gnawing cold had hollowed her out, leaving her more a shadow than a predator. Killing them would've been a satisfying risk, but her limbs trembled, her stomach coiled in empty knots, and she wasn't in the mood to die over a scrawny meal.

So she fled.

They wouldn't stop. The price on her head was far too high. And the honor of capturing her was too tempting.

Caelemin's crime wasn't just unforgivable. It was personal.

The Court of Dawn's crown princess, Isarea, the fake mate, had made sure of that. Isarea had shattered her heart, left her broken and humiliated, and driven her to commit the unthinkable: feeding on the energy of another fae.

A crime punishable by death.

Now, Isarea wasn't just after her heart. She wanted her head.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓✩༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Caelemin has been perched up in a tree for almost an hour scouting for a potential meal, when she hears it: the crunch of boots on snow and the faint murmur of voices. Six of them, maybe more. The steady clank of swords confirm her suspicion. Guards.

Great. Just what I needed to make my night perfect.

The group is about a mile away, their path cutting straight toward her. She stifles a groan as she eases down the tree, the dry bark scraping against her frozen palms. Her boots hit the ground with a muted thud, and she immediately moves, careful to keep her footsteps light and her breaths steady.

"Wait—did you hear that?" a voice calles out, sharp with suspicion.

Caelemin freezes, her back pressing against the nearest tree. Her heartbeat pounds in her ears, loud enough that she's certain they can hear it.

"Probably just the wind," another voice replies, exasperated. "Keep moving. We don't have time to chase dead ends."

Caelemin takes this as a sign to move from her rooted spot and head in the opposite direction. She begins creeping away, her movements slow and calculated. Her focus is so intent on avoiding their line of sight that she doesn't notice the gnarled root half-buried under the snow.

Her boot catches, and she goes down hard, her body hitting the frozen ground with a thud that reverberates in the stillness of the forest.

She barely has time to curse before she looks up—and locked eyes with the guards.

Just my fucking luck.

The disgust on their faces is almost comical. Whether it's her matted, filthy hair or the stench of wilderness clinging to her, she can't tell. Either way, she can't resist the urge to taunt them.

"Now, I know what you're all thinking," she says sweetly, brushing a strand of dirty hair from her face. "And yes, I truly am this stunning in person."

Their confusion buys her just enough time to scramble to her feet and bolt. Shouts erupt behind her, followed by the pounding of boots as they begin their chase.

They're fast, their movements precise and coordinated, almost graceful. They fan out, one staying on her trail while the others flank her from both sides. One manages to catch up, ramming into her side with enough force to send her sprawling against a tree. Pain shoots through her ribs, but she doesn't have time to dwell on it. She rolls away just as his fist comes down, narrowly missing her face.

He's young, with long ash-brown hair and a lean build. Cute, in a way. Had he not been trying to kill her, she might have flirted.

"Sorry, love," she grunts, slamming her boot into his chest. "I'm not interested."

She's running out of energy and can tell by the lack of power in her kick. Her limbs are heavy, her breaths coming in sharp, ragged gasps. She knows she can't keep this up much longer.

Her temper is fraying, unraveling with every step. All she can think about is sinking her nails into their chests, feeling the warm stickiness of their blood coat her hands as she drains every ounce of their energy. The thought sends a delicious shiver down her spine, her eyes flaring gold for a short moment. A slow, wicked smirk curls her lips, she can show them exactly what landed her on the most wanted list.

If i'm destined to die here I certainly won't go out without a fight.

She's a second away from digging in her heels and turning around prepared for a bloodbath and that's when she sees it. A faint glow, pulsing softly through the trees.

Her gaze snags on the source—a towering structure woven from jagged twigs and brittle leaves, its center pulsing with a soft lilac light. In a forest steeped in magic, this is unlike anything she's encountered. For a fleeting moment, it sparks a memory of the royal district's hall of artifacts, where relics of immeasurable power rest behind layers of enchantments.

But this? This is raw, untamed, and far too inviting to ignore.

She doesn't hesitate. The guards' shouts fade into the background as she sprints toward the light, her focus narrowing on the shimmering circle of magic.

Perhaps it leads to an escape.

A quiet haven where she can vanish for a while, gather her thoughts, and finally stop running. A place where no one is hunting her or bent on taking her life.

Take the risk or lose the chance.

The warmth envelops her the moment she steps through, silencing the chaos behind her. For the first time in weeks, she exhales a breath of relief. Whatever lies on the other side can't be worse than what she's leaving behind.

Caelemin can't help but think that when she makes it back, she will find a way to destroy Isarea, just as the princess destroyed her...

...and she can't wait.

✩✩ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓✩༓･*˚⁺‧͙. ✩✩

( 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞! ) hello! thank you so much for reading the first chapter, i'm sorry that it's a little sloppy. 

i am very excited to write this story and excited for you all to come on this journey. leaving a vote or comment would mean a lot to me <3 also any constructive criticism is completely welcomed, i want this story to be the best it can be! 

another thank you to @papertides for the plot