~
Sable hadn’t told anyone where she was going.
The frozen woods seemed to stretch on forever as she made her way to the Outlands, toward the clearing, and she began to worry that she was lost. It frustrated her that she couldn’t remember which route she and Hunter had taken just the other day. They’d merely gone out for a stroll when she’d began to recognize her surroundings, and soon she had realized she had unintentionally led them to the birthplace of her friendship with Levon.
Now, the weather seemed to only grow colder instead of warmer. Creeks remained frozen solid, and trees were covered, from roots to needles, in snow.
She was nearly sobbing by the time winter turned into an enchanted summer, and she welcomed the nosebleed that came with the magic humming in the air as she stumbled into that clearing and fell to her knees before the Wistwood tree.
Today was not only the summer solstice; it was the anniversary of Hannelore’s death. She would’ve gone to Hannelore’s house, if only she’d known how to get there. Would’ve paid her respects to her family every year since she had died, if she had been able to find a way to enter the Mortal Lands through the never-ending Haunted Woods. Instead, she’d made do and offered what respect she could by leaving flowers beneath the tree of ice in the courtyard. Ghost orchids were Hannelore’s favorite.
And now Sable was here, in the Outlands, in the clearing where another friendship that had long since ended had first began.
A year had passed since she’d tried to contact Levon. A year since she’d sent a raven, since she’d dared to whisper a message to any ancient trees willing to carry the winds for her. Today, she’d brought a scrap of parchment and a pencil in her satchel. This time…this time she would write out her message before sending it through the trees. This time, she would do things differently.
She started with his name and continued from there, writing from the heart. She told him everything she had been dying to say in the time he’d been gone: How hard it was to spy in the Dark Lord’s army; how she often lay awake at night, alone with her thoughts. How she sometimes screamed into her pillow to muffle the sound; how some days she felt like she was losing her mind, like there was blood on her hands and no matter how hard she scrubbed she couldn’t wash it off.
She told him of Hunter; of how she believed she was falling in love with him, and how he loved her, too. She told him she missed him; that she didn’t understand why he’d left—lefther. Alone. She said a lot of things in that letter. But in the end, she tore it up into little pieces, and on a single blank scrap, she wrote four sentences. And those four sentences were all she sent.
I want you to take care of yourself, Levon. No matter how dark the road gets, you must keep searching for the light. I hope you find it one day. I hope you find your way out of the dark.
The scrap of paper fluttered from between her fingers, carried away on a breeze that smelled of pine and loam. It would likely become part of a nest somewhere, or perhaps would wash up in some half-frozen bay, but the words…
The words might make it,she thought.
The last thing she did was remove the thin iron chain from around her neck. But instead of lifting it over her head, she got a firm hold on it and pulled. It snapped, and she let the chain slide through her fingers, as she had the paper. It fell to the ground with the softest hiss.
Relishing in the feeling of freedom, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose.
She’d worn the chain for years, except for when she had to wear the Wistwood ring. The magic of the ring wouldn’t work if she was wearing iron, but she wore the chain every other time. The reason for keeping it on was simple: she was afraid of her magic. Of the fire that had burned through the bodies of so many men when she was only a child. The chain was a precaution—a tool that would prevent her magic from rearing its ugly head at the worst times. Levon had always scolded her for wearing it, accusing her of being afraid of herself. He wasn’t wrong.
A month before he’d dropped all contact with her, he’d sat with her in this very clearing and had told her it was time. Time to embrace who she was, to show the world what Sable Erwyn Sylvana could do. And she’d only shaken her head.
“I’m a monster,” she’d said. “My magic does nothing but kill.”
“Your magic protects, Sable. It protects, and it destroys, but that doesn’t mean it has to destroy the peace. The sooner you learn to master your gift, the sooner you can use it to help those in need.” Still, she’d shaken her head.
“Fine,” he’d said. “But mark my words, one day you will show the world who and what you are. And when that day comes, you will not be afraid. Burn entire forests. Turn winter into summer. Melt the damned North if you must. And when you stand there, upon ground that hasn’t seen the sun in centuries, I want you to smile. Because onlyyoucan do that, Sable. Only you.”
That day hadn’t come yet, but maybe it would. One day.
She swiped the tears off her cheeks and stood. As she left the clearing, a cold wind rattled the trees and snaked through the grass.
She blinked.
In that split second in which her eyes had been closed, everything around her had rotted. The leaves on the trees were withered and crumpled; the grass had dissolved into colorless sand; the fruit littering the ground was slimy and infested with maggots.
Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled. And Sable ran.
~
The screaming had started long before she stumbled out of the woods and into the field that stretched to the House of Ice. A red sun was beginning to set on the horizon, transforming the snow into shattered garnet and the House into a bleeding heart.
Every second counted. Every breath, every step as she ran with all her might toward that bleeding heart of a castle in the distance. The walls of ice and glass reflected the sun’s rays, and even the tree in the courtyard, its many ice-lacquered branches gleaming, looked like an explosion of blood from here. But all this could not hold her attention for long.
The House of Ice was surrounded by hundreds upon hundreds of black-clad soldiers. Serrated blades in muscled hands, they sat upon large hyena-like creatures and horses that were foaming at the mouth. Few remained to defend Sable’s home; bodies littered the blood-stained field. She tried not to look at any faces as she reached the outskirts of the battle…
And threw herself into the carnage with an explosion of fire.
