The forest feels alive tonight, though not in the gentle way of daytime. Shadows creep along the trunks of the trees, long and unnatural, as if the world itself has shifted in response to my thoughts. Lorean and I move cautiously toward the cabin's small clearing, the notebook pressed tightly to my chest. Its warmth is almost comforting, but beneath it lies the same warning pulse I've learned to fear.
Tonight, I make a decision.
I have to act.
Inside the safehouse, I open the notebook to a fresh page. The leather cover seems to hum more urgently than ever, as if aware that I am about to take a risk. My pencil hovers over the blank sheet, every nerve in my body alive with tension.
I have seen their location. I know the dangers. But if I wait too long, Varek will tighten his grip, moving closer with every passing hour.
I take a deep breath.
A small, hidden path from the forest leads directly to Varek's outpost, guarded and invisible to anyone else, allowing safe passage for us to reach Mom and Dad.
As the last word is written, the forest around us shifts slightly. The trees rearrange themselves, branches forming a narrow but clear path. The soft glow of magical markers appears along the way, guiding us. I glance at Lorean.
"It's ready," I whisper.
She swallows hard, her hand gripping mine. "Are you sure this is safe?"
"No," I admit. "But it's the only way we can act without being seen… and without risking them further."
We move quickly, keeping low among the underbrush. The path is invisible to the ordinary eye, shimmering faintly under the moonlight. Every step feels surreal, like walking between worlds. The notebook hums faintly, as if approving the plan—or warning me of its danger.
Hours pass, and we reach the outskirts of the tower where my parents are held. The massive stone structure looms over the crimson landscape, guarded by Varek's agents. Shadows flicker along the walls, unnatural and silent.
I glance at Lorean, seeing her fear mirrored in my own reflection. "This is it," I whisper. "We can do this. But we need to be careful."
I open the notebook again. This time, the words are deliberate, careful:
A small distraction appears near the guards, drawing them away from the entrance and giving us a clear path to the tower.
Light shimmers along the walls. Figures move, leaving gaps in the patrol. The path is open. I swallow hard, adrenaline thrumming in my veins.
"This… this is our chance," I whisper.
We slip inside the tower, moving like shadows. Every creak of the floor, every flutter of cloth, makes my heart race. The notebook pulses softly in my bag, reminding me that it is alive, watching, and reacting.
And then we reach the chamber where Mom and Dad are held.
Chains rattle softly as I approach. Their eyes open slowly, wide with confusion, then recognition.
"Wren… Lorean…" Mom whispers, her voice shaking.
"Mom! Dad!" I cry, rushing forward. The chains fall away as if responding to the notebook's magic. They are free.
For a moment, everything is perfect.
But then the warning comes.
A shadow detaches from the wall—a figure taller and darker than any of us expected. Varek himself. His eyes blaze like cold fire.
"You've awakened it," he hisses, voice like grinding stone. "And now… you'll pay for it."
The floor trembles. The walls ripple unnaturally. I clutch the notebook, hands shaking. Every word I write now will either save us… or destroy us.
And I realize, with a sharp, terrifying clarity:
The real battle has only just begun.