The guards didn't speak.
They flanked her on either side as they rode eastward, through the winding paths of Lunareth's outer provinces. One held a crossbow strapped across his back. The other never let go of the blade at his hip.
Seraphira rode without chains, but she knew better than to mistake it for freedom.
The silence stretched for miles, broken only by the hooves of their horses and the occasional cry of carrion birds overhead. As the palace disappeared behind them, so too did any sense of warmth.
The road curved downward into a dense ravine shrouded in shadow and thorns. Trees pressed close together, their bark blackened and jagged. Vines hung like skeletal hands. No birds sang here.
"The Forest of Teeth," one of the guards muttered.
She turned to him, brow raised.
He nodded ahead. No man with sense comes this way. Not unless they're trying to disappear.
The other guard spat, don't speak to it.
It? Not her.
So be it.
They dismounted near a narrow stone bridge that crossed a chasm filled with mist. On the far side, the trees grew even darker. The path beyond was nothing more than a sliver of dirt through clawing underbrush.
The second guard stepped forward and unlatched a worn leather pouch. He threw it at her feet.
Provisions, he said, his voice hollow.
She didn't pick it up.
You're not to return to Lunareth, he continued. By the king's word, your presence within the borders will be treated as treason.
Seraphira looked at him, truly looked and for a moment, she thought she saw shame in his eyes. Or was it fear?
No matter.
She picked up the pouch and walked past him without another word.
As her boots touched the other side of the bridge, the forest seemed to exhale. A hush fell over the trees, as though the very air was listening. Behind her, she heard the guards remount and ride away.
And then she was alone.
No crown.
No title.
No home.
Just Seraphira Vaelthorne the cursed girl with a fire in her blood and no path ahead.
The deeper she walked, the more the forest closed in around her. Thorns snagged her cloak. The shadows shifted even when the wind was still. She could feel the weight of old magic here. Not from her but from the land itself.
As night fell, faint lights blinked between the trees too low for stars. She thought them fireflies at first.
Then she heard the whisper.
"Turn back…"
She froze.
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere.
"This is not your place, daughter of fire…"
Seraphira unsheathed her dagger slowly. The blade was plain iron, but her grip on it was sure. She did not tremble. She had nothing left to lose.
Suddenly, the ground shifted beneath her, roots moving like snakes. She jumped back just in time to avoid being pulled into a pit of writhing vines.
Something laughed.
Not cruel. Not kind.
Just ancient.
And curious.
"You do not belong here, cursed one…"
"And yet… you have come."
She steadied her breath.
I was cast out, she said. Where else should I go?
No answer.
But somewhere in the shadows, something opened its eyes.
And watched her pass.