The air feels heavier than it should, every breath scraping against my lungs like sandpaper. My limbs ache, and a cold sweat clings to my skin. The confrontation with Freyr has left me drained, my magic barely flickering in the wake of everything I've unleashed. The exhaustion weighs on me, but there's something else too. A deep, gnawing uncertainty that's been creeping in ever since I set foot in this cursed place.
The shadows of Nox press closer now, sharper and colder, their whispers turning to low growls, like the fortress itself is angry. It feels alive, as though it's reacting to my defiance, to Freyr's absence. I clutch the pendant around my neck, its warmth dim but steady—a small comfort in the oppressive darkness. But even the pendant feels distant now, as if the more I uncover, the more it too is losing its power.
I glance behind me, half-expecting Freyr to emerge from the void again, his cold smile and cutting words ready to unravel me. But he's gone. At least, for now. I exhale shakily, as if releasing a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
I stumble forward, the walls shifting around me like they're trying to trap me in a maze. The crimson veins that once pulsed faintly through the stone are now erratic, flickering with bursts of light that leave jagged shadows in their wake. The silence is deafening, broken only by the sound of my shallow breaths and the faint hum of the pendant.
"Where am I supposed to go?" I mutter under my breath, my voice hoarse, almost weak.
The pendant flares slightly, its heat against my skin growing warmer, as though answering my question. Its light pushes back the darkness around me, creating a narrow path through the twisting halls.
I don't question it. I can't afford to.
The corridors stretch endlessly, but the pendant's guidance never falters. It pulls me toward a set of stairs spiraling downward, their edges slick with moisture. The air grows colder with each step I descend, and I feel the weight of the fortress pressing down on me. My head pounds, the lingering effects of Freyr's magic making it hard to focus. A dull hum in my mind seems to match the pendant's pulse, like it's reminding me of the price I'm paying for everything I've learned.
At the base of the stairs, a doorway yawns open, its frame carved with runes that glow faintly in the dim light. I hesitate for a moment, my instincts screaming at me to turn back, but the pendant pulses insistently, as though coaxing me forward.
"This has to be the way out," I whisper, more to myself than anything.
I step through the doorway, and the world shifts violently around me.
*********
The portal spits me out with a force that sends me sprawling onto the ground. My hands scrape against cold, uneven stone, and I push myself up, gasping for air. The light around me is dim, the sky overcast with thick clouds that blot out the sun. A cold chill settles over me, one I can't seem to shake.
I blink, disoriented, as I take in my surroundings. The air smells damp and earthy, tinged with something metallic that makes my stomach turn. The space is eerily quiet, save for the faint rustle of leaves in the wind.
Where am I?
The house looms in front of me like a forgotten tomb, its jagged silhouette framed by the grey, overcast sky. The roof sags in places, and the walls are cloaked in creeping vines that twist through cracks in the stone like veins.
I don't know how I got here. One moment, I was in Nox, confronting Freyr, and now… this.
I take a hesitant step forward, my boots crunching against the gravel path. The pendant pulses faintly against my chest, its warmth a fragile tether to something real. My gaze lingers on the house, unease coiling in my stomach.
It feels familiar.
Not in the way of a distant memory, but like a lingering echo, a place I've never been but have always known. Something deep inside me stirs, but I can't place it.
The air around me feels heavier as I approach, cold and damp, carrying the faint scent of earth and something metallic. A part of me wants to turn back, to walk away and leave whatever secrets this place holds buried where they belong.
But I can't.
The door creaks loudly as I push it open, the sound reverberating through the empty halls. Dust and decay greet me, the air thick with neglect. The floorboards groan beneath my weight, and the faint scent of mildew curls into my lungs. I take a few more steps, the floor creaking in protest, but the weight of this place is too heavy to ignore.
I don't recognize anything, but there's a weight here—an unspoken history that presses against my skin. I move through the house, each room a snapshot of abandonment. Broken furniture lies scattered across the floor, and the wallpaper peels in long, jagged strips.
In the living room, I stop.
The fireplace is cracked, its mantle covered in a thick layer of dust. Something glints faintly in the dim light, catching my eye.
A picture frame.
I move toward it slowly, my breath catching in my throat as I lift the frame from the mantle. The glass is shattered, and the wood splinters beneath my fingers, but the photograph inside is intact.
It's a man and a woman, their faces lit with joy. The woman's hair is tied back in loose waves, and the man's arm wraps protectively around her shoulders. Between them, cradled in the woman's arms, is a baby.
I stare at the photograph, my chest tightening. This isn't a family I remember. I've never seen this child before, and yet… the faces of the man and woman are unmistakable.
My parents.
The article from when I was younger mentioned they had another child.
The pendant grows warmer against my chest, pulsing faintly as though reacting to my discovery. My hands tremble as I trace the edges of the photograph. The baby's face is soft, blurred slightly by the wear of the image, but it's clear enough to twist something deep inside me.
A sibling.
The thought crashes over me, heavy and suffocating. I've spent years wondering why my parents left me, why they abandoned me to a life of questions and loneliness. And now, staring at this photograph, the answer feels even more elusive.
They had another child. After me.
I slip the photograph into my satchel carefully, my mind racing. Why? Why did they leave me behind? Why did they start a new life, a new family? What happened to them—and to this child?
A faint sound pulls me from my thoughts, a rustling from outside.
I freeze, my breath catching. The house feels suddenly smaller, the air heavier.
Moving to the broken window, I peer outside cautiously.
Shadows flicker beyond the tree line, moving too deliberately to be the wind. My pulse quickens as I back away from the window, my fingers tightening around the pendant.
The sound grows louder, footsteps crunching against the brittle leaves.
Then, they emerge.
A figure steps into the clearing, their movements smooth and calculated. Their face is obscured by a hood, but the faint glow of runes etched into their cloak catches the dim light.
Another figure follows, then another, until three of them stand at the edge of the clearing, their presence exuding authority and menace.
I don't need anyone to tell me who they are. The Courts.
"Surrender yourself," one of them calls, their voice sharp and commanding.
I swallow hard, my hand instinctively reaching for my satchel.
"Why?" I reply, my voice steady despite the panic clawing at my chest.
The figure steps forward, the air around them crackling faintly with energy. "The High Court demands your presence."
The High Court?
My chest tightens as the pendant grows hotter, its pulse erratic.
"I'm not going anywhere with you," I say firmly, taking another step back.
The figure tilts their head slightly, as though considering my words. "Then we will take you by force."
The air shifts around them, magic swirling like a gathering storm. My pulse races, the weight of their power pressing down on me, but I stand my ground.
The pendant flares brightly, and I feel the magic inside me stir, rising to meet the threat.
I don't know who these people are, or what they want. But I know one thing for certain.
I won't let them take me.
Not without a fight.
The air crackles with raw energy, and I feel my power surge in response, the magic inside me waking from its dormant state. My hand instinctively goes to the pendant, the familiar warmth grounding me as the power within me pulses violently. But the Courts? I'm not sure if I'm ready for this.
The leader of the three figures steps forward, their hood still shadowing their face. Only the faint glow of the runes across their cloak reveals their true power—undeniable, ancient, and filled with a promise of danger.
"We do not seek a fight, Sarah," the figure says, their voice a low, melodic hum. "The High Court requires your presence. You have been called, and no amount of resistance will change that."
I'm not sure if it's the words or the sheer weight of their presence, but my stomach churns. I'm not prepared for this, not in the slightest. I have no idea what the High Court wants with me, but it doesn't feel like anything good.
"I'm not going anywhere," I retort, my voice shaky but firm. "Tell your Court I refuse. I'm not a pawn for anyone."
The figure tilts its head slightly, as if considering my words. For a moment, I almost think they'll relent. But then, the air shifts, a sharp current that makes the shadows deepen and stretch toward me.
The other two figures move in sync, their runes glowing brighter as they step closer, forming an unbroken circle around me. Their magic pulses, thick and heavy, but I can feel the tug of my own power, the magic within me growing stronger, responding to their challenge.
I glance around quickly, looking for an escape. The house looms behind me, and the distant sound of the trees rustling in the wind feels far away now, too distant to offer comfort.
"We have no time for your defiance," the first figure says. "Come willingly, or we will take you."
Their words hang in the air like a decree. I've heard the stories, the rumors. The High Court doesn't negotiate. It claims its own.
With a deep breath, I steel myself. There's no turning back now. The pendant burns at my chest, the warmth now a raging fire against the cold touch of their magic.
"I told you. No."
I push the magic inside me forward, and with it, the light from the pendant explodes outward, a burst of blinding energy that pushes back the shadows surrounding me. The figures stagger, but their power is undeterred. They close in, not with fear, but with calm certainty.
But I won't give in.
"You've made a choice," the woman continues, her words like an ice-cold wind against my skin. "But there are consequences for defying the High Court. You think your magic can save you? That pendant—your power—is nothing compared to the weight of the truth that you still refuse to understand."
I grip the pendant tightly, the warmth fighting against the coldness of the air around me. I won't let them take me. Not now.
"You can't force me," I growl, my voice rising in defiance. "I don't belong to you. I'm not some tool to be used."
"You are more than you realize," she replies, her tone condescending, and a shadow of something—gloating?—curls beneath her words. "You think you can control your fate, but the Courts already have their hand on you. You will come willingly, or we will take you by force."
The air grows heavier, the shadows in the clearing swirling with an unnatural intensity. The figures seem to grow more solid, their magic pressing against me like a weight, urging me to kneel, to give in. But I won't.
My pulse quickens as I feel the energy around me intensify, the pull of the Courts wrapping around me like chains. I brace myself, drawing on the magic within me, the power that's been coursing through my veins ever since I crossed into this world. It's still there, still alive inside me, but I can feel it flickering, unstable.
"You'll regret this," the woman warns. Her tone has softened, as though she's speaking to a child. "The more you resist, the harder it will be for you. The High Court doesn't make threats lightly."
The other two figures remain silent, watching with expressions I can't see, but I can feel the tension radiating from them.
I take another step back, my body tense, my heart pounding. This isn't just about them taking me. This is about the life I've fought for, the life they want to tear from me. The answers that have been eluding me for so long—they've always been within the grasp of the Courts, and now they're here, demanding that I face them.
The pendant at my neck flares brighter, responding to the energy swirling in the air, and for a moment, I wonder if it's the last act of defiance I can make before everything changes. If I let them take me now, will it be the end of the choices I've made?
"I don't need your protection," I say, my voice firm now, cutting through the mounting pressure. "I've made my choice. And I'll face whatever consequences come with it. I'm not running anymore."
I feel the darkness around me surge in response, as if the shadows are testing me, pushing me to break. But I stand my ground, breathing through the pressure, my fingers tightening around the pendant.
The woman steps forward again, her eyes narrowing. "You think you've won, but you've only just begun to understand what's at stake. You're playing a dangerous game, Sarah."
And that's when it happens.
In an instant, I feel the overwhelming pull of their power, drawing me toward them like a magnet. My feet leave the ground as the magic surrounds me, pulling me closer, faster.
But I can't—won't—give in.
With one final surge of will, I call on the magic inside me, feeling it flare and explode outward in a burst of light that fills the clearing, blinding the figures standing before me.
As the light fades, the world around me settles back into its eerie quiet, but the tension lingers in the air like an impending storm. I stand alone in the clearing, the last remnants of my power still crackling around me, but it feels hollow. The Courts may be gone for now, but their presence has marked me, left a heavy weight on my shoulders.
The pendant against my chest is warm, but it's different now—distant, like it's losing its connection to me, to the power I once thought I could control. I can feel the magic inside me still, but it feels… unstable. Like something deep inside is unraveling. I push the thought away. I can't afford to think like that. Not now.
I take a shaky breath, trying to steady myself, but the dizziness won't fully fade. I glance around, my pulse still quick, unsure of what to do next. The air smells damp, heavy with the scent of earth and something acrid that makes my stomach churn. I need to get out of here, back to some semblance of safety, away from the dark presence of the Courts.
But where do I even go? I don't even know where "here" is.
The house, silent and decaying behind me, seems to watch me with hollow eyes. The place feels wrong, like a piece of my past that's been forgotten or buried, but never truly gone. I shake my head, trying to clear the fog in my mind. There's something here I need to understand. Something I need to uncover before the Courts come for me again.
I turn back toward the house, my legs unsteady beneath me, and walk back to the doorway. My fingers trace the frame, feeling the worn wood beneath my fingertips, like a lifeline.
Inside, the house is still silent, still abandoned. But there's something else now. A strange pull, an almost magnetic force drawing me deeper into the shadows of the rooms. It's like the house itself is beckoning me, urging me to find the answers I'm not yet ready for.
I step forward, ignoring the way the air grows heavier with each step.
And that's when I hear it.
A sound from deeper within the house—footsteps. Slow, deliberate, but unmistakable. I freeze, my heart in my throat. I didn't imagine that, did I?
"Who's there?" I call out, my voice hoarse but demanding.
Silence. Then the sound again—closer this time. The hairs on the back of my neck rise as I take another step backward. But the footsteps don't stop.
A figure steps into the dim light, barely visible at first but unmistakable. Tall, cloaked, their presence as cold as the house around me. My heart pounds harder as I recognize the runes that glow faintly along their cloak.
Another one of them.
"What do you want?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
The figure tilts their head slightly, their eyes glowing with an unnerving calm. "We need to talk, Sarah."
I clench my fists, my magic stirring again, but this time, I can feel the instability in it. It's as if the tension of the past moments, the surge of power against the Courts, has drained me, left me more vulnerable than I want to admit.
"Who are you?" I demand, my voice faltering despite myself.
"I'm someone who's been watching," the figure says softly, stepping forward with measured grace. "I've been watching your defiance… and your struggle. You think you've escaped the Courts, but you've only begun to understand the price you will pay. You can't outrun them forever, Sarah."
I back away, my heart racing. "What do you want from me?"
The figure pauses, their gaze never leaving mine. "What you've seen is only the beginning. Your connection to the High Court, the magic within you, will not be ignored. You will have to choose—soon—whether you will be the pawn, or the queen."
The words hit me like a slap. I can feel my chest tighten, my throat closing up. I want to argue, to deny, but something inside me knows this is not just a threat. It's a warning.
"I won't let you control me," I say, my voice trembling despite my defiance.
The figure steps closer, their presence overwhelming. "Then we will see how long you can keep fighting. You can't fight destiny, Sarah. It's already chosen you."
A flash of light flickers around them as they begin to fade back into the shadows, but not before they leave me with one final, chilling message.
"We'll meet again soon."
And then they're gone.
The clearing is silent again, but the weight of their words presses on me like a vice. I stand still, my heart pounding, my mind racing with the implications of what just happened. I can feel the eyes of the Courts on me, even if they aren't here. I can't outrun them.
But I can't give up either.
I clutch the pendant again, feeling its warmth pulse beneath my fingers, but it feels distant, as though it's calling me from somewhere far away. Somewhere I have to go. Somewhere that holds the key to my future.
But no matter what happens next, I know one thing for sure: I won't let the Courts take me. I won't be anyone's pawn.
I'll fight. And I'll win.
*********
The wind picks up as I turn back to the house, its dark presence looming like an unwelcome shadow. The door creaks shut behind me with a soft, echoing groan. I don't know why I feel the pull to stay here, why my feet carry me deeper into the darkness of the house when every instinct tells me to run, to escape this place before the Courts—or worse—return.
But something in me refuses to leave. I need answers, more than I've ever needed anything. I need to understand why this place feels so connected to my past, why I feel like I've always known it in some deep, forgotten part of me.
I push the thoughts away and walk further into the house. The air is thick with dust, and the silence is almost oppressive, but my senses feel sharp, my pulse quickening as I move through the empty halls. The memories of my parents' home—this home I never knew—cling to the air, haunting and strange.
I stop at a doorway. Beyond it, a faint light flickers, a pale glow from within a room at the far end. I don't know what draws me there. Maybe it's curiosity. Maybe it's desperation. But I can't ignore it. I have to see what's inside.
I move forward, my every step heavier than the last, until I reach the door. The wood is worn, chipped at the edges, like it hasn't been opened in years. I push it open slowly.
The room is filled with dust, but the light comes from an old lamp on a small table, its glow weak but steady. The walls are lined with shelves stacked with books and artifacts, some familiar, some foreign. But it's the center of the room that makes my heart skip a beat.
A small, cracked mirror hangs on the wall, reflecting the dim light with a strange, silver sheen. There's something off about it, something that makes my skin crawl. As I step closer, I see it—written in faded ink across the mirror's frame.
Remember what you've forgotten.
I run my fingers over the words, the cool glass sending a shiver up my spine. What have I forgotten? What am I missing?
Suddenly, a sharp noise breaks the silence—footsteps, light but deliberate, coming from the far end of the house. I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest. Who else is here? It can't be one of the Courts again. Can it?
I turn quickly, but there's no one in the hallway. The door behind me creaks, and my breath catches in my throat as I realize that I'm not alone anymore.
I turn back to the mirror, but the words—those haunting words—feel like they're pressing into my mind, making everything spin. I reach up to touch the mirror once more, but this time, something shifts.
The glass ripples, distorting in a way that's not natural. For a moment, I think my eyes are playing tricks on me. But then, the reflection in the mirror changes. It's not my face that stares back at me now. Instead, it's the distorted face of a stranger—a woman with pale skin, eyes glowing like they hold the weight of centuries in them.
I step back, my breath hitching in panic. The room begins to spin, the shadows closing in around me.
The figure in the mirror smiles, and I feel a coldness wash over me, like the chill of death itself creeping into my bones.
"You can't escape this, Sarah," she whispers, her voice cold and filled with an unsettling knowing. "The Courts will come for you. And when they do, there will be nowhere left to hide."
I spin around, but the room is empty. Only the mirror remains—staring back at me, mocking me, daring me to understand the truth I've been running from.
"No," I whisper, shaking my head. "I'm not their pawn."
But the mirror keeps pulling me in, the distorted reflection of the woman beckoning me forward. Her voice, soft but commanding, grows louder with each passing moment.
"You'll have to choose, Sarah. You can't fight fate forever. The High Court will claim what's theirs."
I reach for the pendant again, the power inside me beginning to flare, its warmth slowly returning. But it's not enough. The shadows in the room grow darker, swirling in on themselves, and I can feel the edges of reality bending once more.
I won't be their pawn.
I won't.
With a surge of strength, I push the mirror away, stumbling back toward the door. The walls tremble, the house groaning in protest. The floor beneath me shakes, but I refuse to stop. My hand reaches the door again, and with one final push, it opens, spilling me into the dimly lit hallway.
And there, standing in the doorway, is another figure. This one is different—taller, more commanding, their face hidden beneath a cloak that seems to consume the light itself. Their presence is like a force, an undeniable pressure that forces me to pause.
"Sarah," the figure says, their voice soft but filled with an ancient power. "You are running from what is inevitable."
I take a step back, my heart pounding in my chest. "I'm not running," I snap, trying to sound stronger than I feel. "I'll never be your pawn."
The figure's face remains hidden, but I can feel their eyes on me, watching, waiting.
"You've made your choice," they say, their tone final. "The Courts will find you, and when they do, they'll take what is theirs."
I steady myself, refusing to let the fear creep back in. "I'm not afraid of you."
The figure steps forward, their hand outstretched. "You should be."
Before I can react, the darkness in the hallway deepens, swallowing the light, the figure vanishing into the shadows.
And once again, I'm left standing alone in the eerie silence, the weight of their words lingering in the air.
But I won't be afraid. I've made my choice.
I will fight.