Dydra's ocean blue eyes burned with fury as they locked onto Oryen. The older witch stood frozen across the cottage, shoulders tense, lips pressed together as if bracing herself for the storm she had summoned. She should have waited. That thought screamed through Oryen's mind again and again. She should have waited longer before digging into what had been buried. Before tearing open wounds that had never truly healed.
Her fists clenched at her sides, nails biting into her palms as she fought to steady the rage blazing through her veins. It wasn't just anger—it was pain, sharp and merciless, clawing its way up from the depths where she had locked it away. Memories she had sealed behind iron doors now battered against them with violent insistence, threatening to spill out and drown her. Why would Oryen do this to her? Why would she reach into a past Dydra had deliberately buried, knowing how dangerous it was to stir what slept there?
Dark thoughts crept in, uninvited and vivid—images of retribution, of magic twisted into something cruel. Dydra knew, with terrifying clarity, that if she stayed another moment, she might act on them. That realization was enough to push her into motion.
Without a word, she turned and strode out of the cottage, the wooden door creaking softly behind her. Her bare feet met the cold grass, the chill biting through her skin as night wrapped itself around the world. Moonlight spilled faintly across the clearing, casting pale silver over the land. A sharp breeze swept past her, cutting through the thin midnight-blue dress clinging to her frame—the one Agatha had given her with such warmth and pride. The fabric fluttered against her legs, useless against the cold, but she barely noticed.
Her gaze scanned the clearing until it landed on the white steed tethered nearby, its head lowered as it chewed lazily on hay. Without hesitation, she crossed the distance, swung herself onto its back, and seized the reins. At the sharp press of her legs, the horse responded with a fierce neigh, surging forward into the darkness.
The forest swallowed them whole. Speed thundered beneath her, hooves striking damp earth as trees blurred past. Wind tore at her hair, ripping it free from her shoulders and flinging its red strands behind her like fire in the dark. The tears she had fought so hard to contain finally broke loose, spilling down her cheeks in hot, relentless streams. She bit down on her lower lip, trying to silence the sob threatening to escape, but grief was stronger than pride.
The door she had chained shut in her mind shattered completely.
Memories flooded in with brutal clarity. She saw the small forest hut again, smelled the familiar herbs hanging from the beams, felt the worn couch beneath her fingers. She remembered the way the elderly woman's breathing had faltered that evening, how her voice had grown thin and strained. They had planned to go flower-picking that day, just the two of them, and practice new spells afterward. But weakness had crept into her grandmother's limbs, anchoring her to the couch.
Little Dydra had helped her sit, fear curling tight in her chest as she noticed how shallow her breaths were. She hadn't known what to do. She had been too young, too helpless. So she had stayed, clinging to her grandmother's side, dread coiling deeper with every passing second.
That was when the woman had asked her to sing.
She had known which song it would be. The only one she knew by heart. The one her grandmother had taught her long ago, voice soft and steady as she hummed along.
Now, galloping through the forest, Dydra sang it again, her voice breaking under the weight of memory.
"The ocean tides push and pull,
The wind rustles the leaves coolly.
My love for you will never seize,
You are in my heart, and I am in yours.
I'm not leaving anytime soon,
I'm with you for eternity.
Not even death can tear us apart—"
Her voice cracked on the final words, and the dam finally burst. She sobbed openly, shoulders shaking as grief tore through her like a blade. Tears blurred her vision, the wind snatching them away as fast as they fell, leaving a raw sting in her eyes. Speed pressed on, powerful and sure-footed, but Dydra saw nothing except the past unfolding before her.
She never noticed the low-hanging branch until it was too late.
Pain exploded across her face as wood struck flesh. She was torn from the saddle, her scream ripped away by the rushing wind before her body slammed into the forest floor. Cold, damp earth welcomed her with unforgiving force, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs and rattling every bone.
She didn't move.
She lay there, staring up at the canopy above, heart crushing beneath the weight of loss so fresh it felt new. It was as though she had lost her grandmother all over again, the grief sharp and unbearable. Tears continued to spill unchecked as she remembered the moment the elderly woman had taken her last breath, eyes gentle even in death.
Chains wrapped around Dydra's heart, pulling tighter with every memory. Was this what grief truly was? A wound that never closed, only dulled by time and distance?
Though they shared no blood, her grandmother had been everything to her. She had fed her, clothed her, taught her letters and spells. She had guided her through dances, laughing as she corrected her steps, and stood proudly beside her as Dydra's magic bloomed. Losing her had shattered something deep inside the young girl she once was.
So she had locked it away.
Now, older and no stronger against it, the pain returned in full force. A part of her ached to hear that familiar voice again, if only once.
"Just a single word," she whispered into the night. "Please… just one."
Thunder roared overhead, splitting the sky as rain began to fall. Cool droplets splashed against her face, light at first, then heavier, soaking her hair and dress. She didn't flinch. She let the rain wash over her, mingling with her tears, her body shuddering from cold and exhaustion.
Her gaze drifted down to the soaked fabric clinging to her skin—the dress Agatha had given her. The thought of her foster mother brought a fresh wave of sorrow. More tears slipped free as her chest tightened painfully.
She never noticed the presence drawing closer.
A tall figure moved through the darkness with unhurried steps, shadows clinging to him like a second skin. Midnight eyes fixed on the girl sprawled on the forest floor. For a moment, he watched, assessing. Was she alive?
Rain struck his broad shoulders as he closed the distance, hands tucked casually into his pockets. Lightning split the sky, bathing the forest in harsh white light for a heartbeat. His shadow stretched toward her, swallowing the ground inch by inch until it loomed over her completely.
Dydra felt it before she saw it.
The rain stopped touching her face. The air shifted, heavy and still. Her brows drew together as unease crept up her spine. She lifted her gaze just as lightning struck again, illuminating the figure standing over her—tall, imposing, and utterly terrifying in the sudden light.
Her scream tore through the forest like a warning bell.
She scrambled to her feet and staggered backward, panic stealing her balance. Her legs tangled beneath her, and she fell once more. But this time, she didn't hit the ground.
In a single, fluid step, the figure lunged forward. Strong arms caught her mid-fall, steady and unyielding. Instinctively, her hands shot up, fingers clutching the collar of his shirt as if anchoring herself to reality.
Her breath came in sharp gasps as she stared up at him, rain hammering down once more, her heart pounding violently against her ribs.
And in that moment, the night seemed to hold its breath.