A swirling mist coalesced out of nowhere, falling through the canopy like a ghostly spiral. It churned with hues of white and silver, and from its heart tumbled a figure—small, limp, and entirely out of place.
Geoff’s breath caught as the body hit the forest floor with a soft thump and a flurry of startled ferns. For a moment, he simply stared, heart pounding. He had never seen anything like it before. No portal, no whisper of runes—just magic… foreign, ancient, and unruly.
He stepped closer, wary. Then the girl gasped and sat up.
Geoff dove behind a mossy trunk and crouched, his dark brown eyes peeking around the bark.
The girl’s face was turned toward him, though her wide, fear-laced eyes saw nothing but the forest. Her hands were raised, trembling slightly, as if she expected to be attacked—or to attack back. Geoff could see her magic thrumming. She was trying to summon it, draw on it… but the strands fell apart like mist in the wind.
It’s like she doesn’t understand our energy.
Intrigued, Geoff remained hidden. She was beautiful. He realized that surprising thought with a startled flush. Not in the delicate way the nymphs were, or the fierce way the warrior maidens of the northern cliffs were. This girl—this creature from the mist—was alive in a different way. Her face was smudged with dirt, and her long silvery braid looked like it had lost a battle with a cyclone. A streak of grime cut across one cheek where she had unconsciously wiped her hand. Her clothes clung oddly to her form, the silvery fabric shimmering like starlight as it hugged her shoulders and chest, with small fastenings running diagonally across her top.
Geoff’s cheeks flared red when he realized where his eyes had strayed. He jerked his gaze down to the strange soft blue pants she wore—thin like a second skin—and the sturdy brown boots. Her entire appearance shouted one undeniable truth: she was not from here.
She looks about fifteen or sixteen, he guessed. His age.
He nearly tripped over his own feet when she spun around suddenly, eyes wide and body tense. Her hands danced in the air in chaotic gestures, and she began muttering in a language he didn’t recognize. Geoff blinked, tilting his head. The cadence was rhythmic, urgent, and laced with emotion—panic, perhaps.
He tilted his head and frowned when she turned in a circle and called out a series of names: Phoenix, Adaline, Zohar, Bálint…
She looked up at the sky, shielding her eyes with one hand, searching desperately for a sign of familiarity. Geoff followed her gaze.
The canopy above was thick, woven with silver-touched leaves and hanging vines. Nothing but forest stretched above them now. No mist. No funnel. No way back.
He bit his lip, thinking of what he should do. He didn’t want to lead her back to the village. What if she was a threat? Memories crowded him of the last alien to come to their world. It had almost destroyed them.
Well, not the last alien.
He didn’t know if his sister’s husband, Mike Hallbrook, a human from a place called Earth, could be classified as an alien. Marina had opened a portal between their worlds, and Mike had stepped through when the Hellhounds were about to kill his sister.
Still, it is best to stay hidden until I know for sure.
He silently rose and followed the girl as she turned and marched in the wrong direction—away from the village and deeper into the ancient heart of the forest, the only sound the rustling leaves under her boots. He liked the stubborn squareness of her shoulders, a stark contrast to the uneven, frustrated shuffle of her feet. The way she held herself spoke volumes.
With each passing minute, his curiosity intensified, a burning question mark in his mind. He carefully kept his distance, not wanting her to sense his presence behind her. Just as she vanished around an oak, a bloodcurdling scream tore through the silent woods.
Geoff nearly dropped his invisibility spell as he ducked into the undergrowth. The girl thrashed at her face and braid, cursing at an unlucky spider web. Geoff bit his fist to keep from laughing and quickly whispered a translation spell. Her voice—now perfectly clear—spilled forth a stream of the most colorful threats he had ever heard.
By the fifth spider web, he was convinced she could curse better than a drunken pirate.
Curiosity burned through him, and Geoff shifted into the form of a tree tigcoon, his grey, striped fur blending with the forest as he shadowed her. Her path led straight toward the circle of the elder trees—toward Elder Oak himself.
He darted ahead, bounding over roots and ferns until he reached the cluster of trees where Elder Oak slumbered in the grove’s center. The moment the old tree sensed him, his thick bark creaked and twisted, revealing the ancient face in his trunk.
“Elder, beware. A stranger from another realm approaches,” Geoff warned, his twin tails flickering.
“A stranger?” Elder Oak rumbled, his deep voice vibrating through the forest.
Geoff shifted back and nodded, still catching his breath. “Dropped from the sky, Elder. Out of a mist funnel. She’s… not like us.”
Elder Oak’s eyes widened. “Is she injured?”
“No, just…” Geoff paused, searching for the right word. “Confused. Angry. Possibly not right in the head. She curses and screeches a lot.”
The tree chuckled. “Fascinating. A cursing, screeching creature. I don’t believe I have ever met one of those before.”
“You’re about to,” Geoff replied, glancing back. “She’s not far now.”
