"In the heart of the unknown, fear whispers lies—courage silences them."
The cart creaked and groaned as it rolled deeper into the Wildlands. Each turn of the wheels seemed to carry Evanna further from everything she had ever known. She sat in silence, her thoughts heavy, while the two soldiers and the merchant whispered among themselves, their voices sharp with tension.
The Wildlands were alive in a way that Briarmoor never was. The trees were colossal, their trunks covered in shimmering moss that glowed faintly. Flowers the size of her head bloomed in vibrant, unnatural colors, and the air was thick with the hum of unseen creatures. The forest seemed to pulse with energy, as though it were breathing.
"What kind of place is this?" Mik muttered, gripping his spear tightly.
"A cursed one," Scarface replied grimly.
Evanna ignored them, her thoughts drifting to her family. She pictured Lyra's tear-streaked face, her mother's trembling hands, her father's stoic silence.
"Evanna," her father had said the night before she left. "If there's any chance to end this madness, find it."
His words echoed in her mind. She didn't know how she was supposed to stop a ritual that had lasted generations, but she had to try. She wouldn't let Lyra—or anyone else—be chosen after her.
Her resolve hardened as the cart came to a sudden halt.
"We're here," the merchant announced, his voice filled with relief.
Evanna looked around. They had stopped by a wide, slow-moving river. The water glistened under the strange, pale light filtering through the trees. On the riverbank stood a small wooden structure, more a lean-to than a proper building, with a weathered sign that read: Bride's Crossing.
"This is as far as we go," the merchant said, jumping down from the cart.
"What do you mean?" Evanna asked, frowning.
"The rest of the journey's yours," he replied, avoiding her eyes. "The map will take you to the Beastlord's Castle. We don't... we don't cross the river."
Scarface nodded. "Anyone who goes beyond here doesn't come back. This is your stop."
Evanna climbed down, clutching her small pack. "Cowards," she muttered under her breath.
"Call us what you want," Scarface said, shrugging. "We're alive, and we intend to stay that way."
The younger soldier hesitated, looking at Evanna. "Good luck," he said awkwardly before hurrying to join the others.
The cart rattled away, leaving Evanna alone by the river.
---
The map they had left her was crude at best, little more than a piece of parchment with vague markings. It showed the river, a winding path through the forest, and an ominous symbol where the Beastlord's Castle was supposed to be.
Evanna sighed, stuffing the map into her pocket. "Great. Just me, a useless map, and a forest full of monsters."
As she began to set up camp by the river, a sound caught her attention—a faint whimper, like a wounded animal.
She froze, her eyes scanning the underbrush. "Hello?"
The whimper came again, closer this time. Slowly, she approached the sound, her hands raised to show she meant no harm.
A small creature emerged from the bushes, limping badly. It looked like a fox, but its fur was a glowing, ethereal blue, and its eyes were unnervingly intelligent. Blood matted its leg, and it flinched as Evanna knelt before it.
"You're hurt," she said softly. "Let me help."
The fox-beast growled weakly, baring its teeth, but it didn't move away.
Evanna tore a strip from the hem of her dress, ignoring the cold air against her legs. "I'm not going to hurt you," she murmured, wrapping the makeshift bandage around the creature's wound.
The fox-beast whimpered again but didn't resist. When she finished, it looked up at her, its glowing eyes meeting hers.
"There," she said, sitting back. "Better?"
The creature tilted its head, then took a hesitant step forward. It nudged her hand with its nose, a quiet gesture of gratitude.
Evanna smiled despite herself. "Well, aren't you something?"
---
That night, Evanna built a small fire by the river and huddled under her cloak. The fox-beast lay curled a few feet away, its glowing fur illuminating the darkness.
She stared into the flames, her mind racing. What kind of place was this? The Wildlands were unlike anything she had imagined—beautiful, dangerous, and undeniably strange.
Her thoughts drifted to the dream she'd had the night before. The golden-eyed beast, its mournful voice. Come.
Was it real? Or just her mind playing tricks on her?
The fox-beast stirred, lifting its head to look into the darkness. Its ears twitched, and a low growl rumbled in its throat.
Evanna tensed. "What is it?"
The creature didn't answer—of course it didn't—but its growl deepened.
The forest around them seemed to hold its breath. The usual hum of insects and distant howls had gone silent.
Evanna reached for a branch from the fire, brandishing it like a weapon. "Who's there?" she called out.
Silence. Then, from the shadows, two golden eyes blinked into existence.
Evanna froze, her grip tightening on the branch. The eyes were enormous, glowing with an unnatural light. They stared at her with an intensity that made her heart pound.
The fox-beast stepped closer to her, its fur bristling.
"Stay back," Evanna whispered, though she wasn't sure if she was talking to the creature or the thing in the shadows.
The golden eyes didn't move. They simply watched her, unblinking.
Finally, a deep, rumbling voice broke the silence.
"Why do you help the weak, little one?"
The words sent a chill down her spine. The voice was familiar—low and mournful, just like in her dream.
Evanna swallowed hard. "Who are you?"
The golden eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flash of teeth in the darkness.
"You will know soon enough," the voice replied. "For now, sleep. The path ahead is long... and dangerous."
Before she could respond, the eyes vanished, leaving her alone with the fox-beast and the crackling fire.