The forest seemed alive with shadows as Pip, Alex, and the triplets burst from the treeline, their breaths ragged and faces pale with fear. Behind them, the eerie glow of the blue girl flickered like a fading ember, and the growls of the unseen pursuers echoed in the distance. The children did not stop running until the familiar outline of Grandma Imogen's cabin came into view—a small haven nestled within the rolling hills at the forest's edge.
Grandma Imogen was not like other grandmothers. She was the Keeper of Memories, one of the many world historians, and the guardian of secrets long forgotten. She was the trplets grandmother, but Pip and Alex called her grandmother also. Her cabin was an eclectic mix of the ancient and the arcane, its shelves lined with dusty tomes, jars of strange herbs, and trinkets that seemed to hum with latent energy. It was a place of safety, and the children's feet instinctively carried them there.
As they reached the porch, Pip threw open the door without knocking, her voice trembling with urgency. "Grandma! Grandma Imogen! We need your help!"
The elderly woman appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, her eyes sharp and discerning despite her years. Her silver hair was piled into a loose bun, and her gnarled hands clutched a steaming mug of tea. She took one look at the children, noting their disheveled state and the fear etched across their faces, and set the mug down with deliberate calm.
"What's happened?" she asked, her voice a blend of authority and warmth. "Come in, quickly."
They tumbled into the cabin, each trying to explain at once. Their voices overlapped in a chaotic jumble—mentions of the blue girl, the cold, and the ominous shadows in the forest. Grandma Imogen raised a hand, and the room fell silent.
"One at a time," she said firmly, her green eyes—so like the triplets'—settling on Antigone. "Start from the beginning."
As Antigone recounted their encounter, Grandma Imogen listened intently, her expression unreadable. When the story was done, she nodded slowly and motioned for them to sit. She moved to the hearth, adding a log to the fire as she began to speak.
"You've stumbled upon something ancient," she said, her voice heavy with meaning. "The girl you found—she is not of this world, at least not entirely. She is the Harbinger of the Forgotten."
The children stared at her, uncomprehending.
"The Forgotten?" Alex asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Grandma Imogen turned to face them, her features grave. "Once, long ago, there were beings of immense power—the Forgotten. They were the protectors of this world, but their hubris led to their downfall. They and their Queen were cast into a prison between worlds, their light extinguished. Yet some among them, were consumed by bitterness and rage, called the Fallen—creatures of darkness who seek to destroy what remains of the light, and guided by am unseen force.
Grandma Imogen looked sad as she said "Among the Forgotten there are their Queens, one sleeps and one is lost. They say the sleeping Queen she cries for the world and those she loves, for she is trapped in the in-between." Grandma Imogen stands and looks out her window. "The Queen sleeping is bad enough but she cries for the lost Queen, her twin and for her beloved. The Queen sleeps for now, but if the Harbinger has arrived then it is only time before she must be awakened. The Fallen are trying to prevent that."
"Who are the fallen?" Antigone asked.
"Creatures that were once the Forgotten."
Grandma Imogen stated "I do not know what set the series of events in motion, all I know is the Forgotten were fractured and Fallen were driven by dark forces."
Her words sent shivers down their spines, but it was the mention of the girl that held them captive.
"The Harbinger," Grandma Imogen continued, "carries their essence. She is a link to the Forgotten, a spark of their lost power. But more than that, she is the key to the prophecy—one that speaks of the rise of the prophecy which will restore balance to this world."
The triplets exchanged uneasy glances, and Ophelia dared to ask a question on all their minds. "What does this have to do with us?"
Grandma Imogen's gaze softened, and she knelt before them, placing a hand on Ophelia's shoulder. "You three are not ordinary children," she said gently. "You are foretold in the prophecy. Born under a blood moon, of the Queens magic, destined to rise and face the darkness. Your connection to the Forgotten binds you to this world's fate." Grandma Imogen sighed "The Forgottens magic lives in you three" she said sadly looking at the triplets. "Passing from one generation to the next, waiting to be awoken to the world again."
"I am so sorry my little loves, I had hoped this would not come to pass. You have a long road ahead of you and I cannot be with you." As Grandma says this, she looks at Pip and Alex. " As for you two, you have your own part to play in this." Grandma Imogen then tells the group "You five are stronger together, but I foresee a separation and if that happens, try to find each other as soon as possible. Always remember, your bonds, your love for one another, is what strengthens you."
A stunned silence filled the room.
" I do not know any more than that. Any questions before they get here?" Grandma said.
"But if the Harbinger is part of the prophecy, why were the Fallen chasing her?" Freya asked, her voice trembling.
Grandma Imogen's expression darkened. "The Fallen do not want to awaken the Queen. They know that the Harbingers presence could reignite the Forgotten's power and set the prophecy in motion. If the Queen wakes fully, it will mark the beginning of their end. That is why they hunt the Harbinger —to silence her before she can fulfill her purpose."
"She said we had to run," Pip murmured, her voice barely audible. "She tried to protect us."
"She would," Grandma Imogen said with a nod. "Her purpose is to guide you, even if she does not yet realize it. But she cannot do so if she remains weak, and the Fallen will not stop until she is destroyed."
A sudden crash outside made them all jump. Grandma Imogen's eyes narrowed, and she rose swiftly, moving to the window. The forest beyond the cabin was still, but the oppressive sense of dread had returned, seeping into the air like a poison. Cold mist traveled along the ground as a warning.
"They're here," she said grimly. "The Fallen have found us."
The children huddled together as the sound of growling grew louder, closer. Grandma Imogen moved to a chest by the hearth, throwing it open to reveal a collection of strange artifacts—blades that shimmered like moonlight, vials of glowing liquid, and a staff carved with intricate runes.
"Stay close to me," she commanded, lifting the staff. "And no matter what happens, do not leave my side."
The children nodded, their fear tempered by the fierce determination in their grandmother's voice. As the first shadow crossed the threshold, Grandma Imogen raised the staff, its runes flaring to life with a brilliant light.
The battle for their destiny had begun