But I didn't fall. A hand grabbed my arm and yanked me back just in time. "What the—?"
I slammed into someone's chest. A woman's. "Move," she muttered, her grip steel-tight.
She raised her hand.
Magic shot from her fingers, slicing through the vines like threads. The thorns shriveled, turned to dust.
I blinked up at her. She pulled me to a stop beneath the twisted branches, her eyes flashing. "Alright," she said, voice low. "We have to get you out of here."
I swallowed hard, looking back toward the direction the guards had gone. "Wait … do you know me?" "No," she replied sharply. "Then why are you helping me?"
I shook my head, panic rising. "Because … you want to get out or not?" Her expression hardened. "Yes, I do." "Then..there's no time for explanations. Let's go." She grabbed my arm and started pulling me through the undergrowth. "But … but we can't leave without them," I protested, my voice wobbling. "All those women …"
She paused, turned to me. "Who?" she asked, tone clipped.
"The women—those they were dragging off," I said, pointing, voice trembling. "We can't leave them."
She looked away and then back, her face softening for a moment. "I also want to help them," she admitted. "But there are about fifty able‑bodied, deadly strong guards out here—and we're just two women. What can we do?"
"Ooh … that's true," I whispered, glancing at the thorns and the forest gloom. "But you have magic, right?" She gave a sharp sigh. "I said no talking about it. We don't have time. Let's get you out of here first."
---
I glanced at her properly. She was striking—silver‑blonde hair that caught a strange violet glint in the dim light, pale green eyes that held both kindness and firm resolve, slender and graceful. She wore a cerulean robe embroidered with runes that glowed faintly, as if alive.
She started moving again. "Stay close," she said. "And keep quiet."
I followed, heart pounding. We pushed through the thick black‑thorn field, vines twisting, snapping. The air smelled of damp earth and old magic. I nearly stumbled once, nearly touching a thorn that shone with cold purple light.
She whispered, "Almost there."
We came upon a structure hidden behind a curtain of hanging vines—a cottage, but old and ragged. Its windows were broken, frame cracked, paint peeled away. The roof sagged under moss, the door hung off its hinge. She gestured. "In here."
I stepped inside. The air was still, dusty, scented faintly of herbs and decay. Moonlight streamed through the broken windows, illuminating motes of dust that danced like tiny creatures. The floorboards creaked. A stone hearth stood cold and half filled with old ashes. A wooden table held rusty tools and cracked jars.
She closed the door softly behind us. "We're safe for now," she said.
"Safe …" I echoed, voice uncertain. "What is this place?"
She set the robes' hem aside and crouched beside a low bench. "An old cottage, far from patrols. I call it the Hollow Ridge Cottage."
I looked around. The walls were lined with shelves of old books, a few candles melted into strange shapes, and a large mirror shard leaned against one wall. My stomach twisted.
She said quietly, "Sit." I did.
Her pale green eyes met mine. "We'll rest a moment, then we plan."
I blinked. "Plan for what exactly?"
Lyra folded her arms and leaned against the wooden frame of the cracked window. "Don't you want to get out of here? I know you're human. You don't belong in Elarion. What I don't know is how you got here."
I sighed, tucking my knees to my chest. "You're right. I don't know why I'm here either. But... It was a mirror. It brought me here."
"A mirror?" she said, stepping forward, pale green eyes narrowing.
"Yes. It was at the museum. Old, plain mirror with dark glass and no reflection. I touched it and..." I shook my head. "I was here."
"Describe it," Lyra said quickly, voice suddenly sharper than before.
I hesitated, then described the mirror —it was a plain, dark glass, over shaped mirror with no carvings, just plain and unusually cold. It split when I touched it. It broke with a loud cracking sound and oddly bright light.
She tilted her head. "Hmm. Sounds familiar, but I can't recall where."
I leaned forward. "Hey… why are you helping me? Aren't you one of the palace people? You could turn me in."
"If I wanted to, I would" she said.
"OK then what's this place called?. Where am I? I don't even know your name? Also what's with the Thorns and kidnapping of women?" I asked.
She looked away. "That's a lot of questions." I raised an eyebrow. "Too much for someone who dragged me out of a death trap?"
She sighed. "I don't like humans. But I like watching my kind suffer even less."
"By your kind, you mean women?" "Exactly."
I smiled faintly. "Me too." She looked at me again. "What's your name?"
"Hey, no fair. You haven't answered my questions." "I will. But I want to know who I'm risking my neck for." I sat up straighter. "Elira. Elira Vale."
Her eyes flickered. "Elira Vale," she repeated slowly, like the name meant something.
"Now you know mine," I said. "Mind telling me where I am? What's with the thorns, the eerie weather, the guards kidnapping women like it's normal? And your name?."
She exhaled, brushing back a strand of her silver-blonde hair. "It's a long story." But.. firstly My name is lyra. Lyra sereth.
"Nice to know you lyra. And I've got time to listen to the story." I sighed. It's not like I'm going anywhere soon.
"I'd rather show you than tell you," she said, stepping closer. "Close your eyes." "What?"
"Close your eyes and hold my hands."
"Are you serious?"
"Do you want answers or not?"
I hesitated, then reached out. "Okay." "Good. Trust me."
The moment our hands touched, warmth pulsed through me like fire in my veins.
***
"Open your eyes," Lyra said softly. I did. We were standing in the middle of a breathtaking kingdom — the same forest, but... not. The skies were golden, magic shimmered in the air, and laughter echoed across hills covered in vibrant flora. The palace stood in the distance, not grey and thorn-ridden, but tall and radiant with shimmering spires.
"Whoa..." I whispered. "Where are we?" "Elarion. But this was before the Curse. Before the thorns swallowed everything."
I turned to her. "How long ago?"
"A hundred years. Maybe more."
A procession of magical creatures that looked almost entirely human — tall, graceful, and striking in appearance — but what sets them apart is their eyes, and the fact that they are immortals. Each of them has slit-pupiled, luminescent eyes that subtly glow in low light, shifting in color depending on their emotions. These creatures and humans walked together through a wide marble path. They looked... happy. Alive.
"We had peace once," Lyra said. "The fae shared magic with mortals. Our lands were open, trade flowed, bloodshed was rare."
I watched a young girl hand a glowing flower to a fae elder, both laughing under a sun that looked too perfect to be real.
"What happened?"
Lyra's expression darkened. She pointed toward the palace.
"Queen Maereth."
"The current queen?"
She nodded slowly. "When King Thorne married her, everything changed. She believed humans were parasites. That immortality should be preserved only for the fae."
The scene around us shifted — laughter replaced with screaming. The skies dimmed to a rust-colored haze. Fires raged through villages. Fae soldiers clashed with human warriors. Magic sizzled in the air like lightning gone wild.
"She launched an ambush during the Solstice Pact — a time of peace. Human envoys had come unarmed, in trust. She had them slaughtered."
I covered my mouth. "That's… that's horrible."
And she blamed the humans," Lyra whispered. "Spun lies through the court like thread. Said it was treason. Her lies poisoned everything."
She turned her eyes back to the palace — now twisted and brambled in the vision. Vines and dark thorns crawling up the once-beautiful spires.
"The King tried to hold things together, but she had too much influence. The court followed her. And then… came the Curse." My stomach clenched. "The Curse?"
"What Curse?"
Lyra nodded. "The thorn curse." "She performed a ritual. Ancient magic. It bound the land with decay. Said it was punishment — for betrayal, for impurity, for mortals daring to share our power."
"And the women?" My voice barely rose above the wind swirling around us. "Why kidnap them?"
"To feed the curse," she said, almost too quietly. "Mortals have resonance. It reacts to the thorns. Some survive, some vanish. All suffer."
I stared into the broken vision. Fields turning to rot. Forests curling in on themselves.
"And you? How do you know all this?"
Lyra looked at me then — really looked. "Because my mother was one of the first to be taken."
The wind howled louder. The light faded.
We were back in the cottage. The walls cracked. Cold air seeped in through the broken stone. A fire flickered low in the hearth. Lyra looked drained, the silver threads in her cerulean robe dimming as the magic wore off.
She didn't speak.
And I… couldn't find the words.
Everything I thought I knew — shattered.
---
I finally broke the silence. "Lyra… what happened to your mother? How did she get taken?" My voice was barely above a whisper.
Lyra's eyes darkened for a moment, a shadow flickering behind them. Then she looked away, biting her lip like she was holding something back. "She wasn't just taken. She was… part of something bigger."
I frowned, trying to understand. "What do you mean?"
"She was one of the first to be caught in the curse's web. But it wasn't just bad luck. There were choices made — by people who wanted power, who believed they could fix things their own way." She paused, her voice colder now. "My mother believed in justice. But justice isn't always what it seems."
"Who?" I asked, heart pounding. "Who chose this? Who started all of it?"
She smiled then, but it wasn't warm. It was the kind of smile that made your skin crawl — calm, confident, like she already had a plan. "Some things... are meant to break before they can be rebuilt."
The wind outside picked up, rattling the cracked windows. I wanted to ask more, to dig deeper, but something in her eyes stopped me.
And then the fire in the hearth sputtered out, plunging the room into darkness.
—