Cyrene landed in darkness.

All kinds of shapes and shadows seemed to move all around her. Touch her, taste her, know her. As if the very air she breathed physically knew her. The wind roared around her, whipping her hair into a frenzy and stinging her eyes.

“The time is now,” a female voice called.

Cyrene didn’t bother responding. Her voice would surely be caught by the breeze and carried away from her. She felt trapped, as if she were in a box, being pushed in on all sides.

“Come to me, Cyrene. Come to me.”

She ducked down and put her hands over her head. Her ears were pounding. Her vision was blurry. She was torn and tight and twisted. Constricted and beaten and lost. There was only the air and the wind and the nothingness. Only lost hope and death.

No air. No sound. No breath. Nothing.

Then, it all stopped.

As if something had reached out into the heavens and stilled the world.

She glanced up from where she was crouched, only to see a hooded figure standing before her. The shadows seemed to bend and swirl around the woman. And Cyrene knew intuitively that this was a thing of nightmares. Was this the woman Serafina feared?

“Who are you?”

“Your salvation.” A soft and feminine hand reached out from the deep sleeve and touched her chin. The hand was cold as ice and made of marble. “Come to me.”

“What…what are you? What do you want from me?” Cyrene whispered.

“Do not be afraid,” she said, smooth as a siren’s call from the cowl of the hood. “I will temper you like steel. Forge you into something more. Make you who you were always meant to be.”

“What if I don’t want any of it?”

“You will need answers. I have the answers.” The disembodied hand reached for Cyrene’s hand. She flipped it over, exposing her palm, and placed something there. She closed Cyrene’s fingers around it. “You will come to me. Use it.”

When Cyrene uncurled her fingers, she gasped. She was holding a gold coin.

When she looked back to demand answers, the figure was gone.

And she was entrapped back in the shadows once more.

“Try to keep her steady,” Matilde bit through her dream. “If she doesn’t stop shaking, this could kill her.”

“I’m doing the best I can!” Avoca shouted back at her.

Cyrene felt pressure on her legs. Something hard pressed into her shoulders.

“She’s waking up, Mati!” Vera cried. “You’re doing it.”

Cyrene’s eyes opened to a room full of people. Her eyes hurt. Her body hurt. Everything hurt.

Then, she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. They dropped closed, and she shook violently. Her teeth clattered together. Her skin was hot and heavy on her body. As if, at any minute, the heat would burn through so quick, it would rip her skin and leave her muscles and bones exposed.

A hand touched her center, and a wave of cool pressure suffused her. As if someone had stuck water under the surface to cool the fire. It was wonderful. Calmed her for a whole minute before her teeth started up again.

Then, she was freezing.

And then screaming.

On and on.

Endless.

Screaming.

“You try!”

Another wave hit her, and she felt free. Free as a bird. Soaring away high into the skies.

And then it was gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.

She ripped her arm away from the pressure on her shoulders and vomited up everything in her stomach. When she finished with that, she dry-heaved until all she had left were tears and coughing and choking and stomach acid.

Another hit of the energy poured through her veins.

Sweet reprieve. Sweet, sweet bliss.

Her jaw was pried open, and water was poured into her mouth. She sputtered around the water before finally getting it down. Another mouthful and another.

Where it all ended up on the floor once more.

The shaking intensified, as if she could rattle the earth. As if she could shake so hard, she could force the stars out of the sky.

But there were no stars. There was only pitch black night. And the hell she was in.

She fell down a rabbit hole as the people around her tried to yell in disembodied voices. But she couldn’t reach them.

And then they were gone.

“Creator! I got you,” Serafina said.

They were standing outside of a manor home on the foothills of a mountain with the Nit Decus castle in the distance.

Cyrene flinched when Serafina moved to touch her. “Why am I here? What do you want with me?”

“I am trying to protect you.”

“Then, tell me the truth. Tell me everything I need to know. I am blind to what is going on out there. No one even knew that you and Viktor were together!”

It was Serafina’s turn to flinch at the name. “I have been trying. You do not know how difficult it has been to relive these memories with you. The happiest times of my life were tainted by what followed.”

“And what did follow?”

“Viktor destroyed me to rid the world of magic,” Serafina said. “That part of the story is true.”

“But magic still exists. I am proof of that.”

“Yes.” Serafina took her hand. “Yes. It has been passed down to you through the ages. The blood that runs through your veins could have manifested generations before you, but now that we’re here, I see, it had to be you.”

“Why?” Cyrene asked desperately. “Why me?”

“It is the mark of the chosen to question the Creator’s judgment. I constantly asked the same thing,” Serafina said with a sad smile. “In times of hardship, the world needs a dreamer with their gaze cast to the stars to right the wrongs of this limited existence.”

Serafina flickered before her, as if she were an image that Cyrene could pass her hand through.

“What’s going on?”

“You’re waking up. Or someone is drawing you away from me again.”

“By who? Who is the shadow in the darkness?”

Serafina shook her head, but then she disappeared again. Cyrene was still standing before the manor house. Suddenly, all alone.

No answers. Just riddles. Again!

Then, Serafina reappeared. Her face was pale, and she looked exhausted. “The reason,” she gasped out. Her knees buckled, and she went to the ground.

“Oh Creator, are you all right?” Cyrene asked, reaching for her.

“Listen to me, Cyrene. I know you want answers. I will tell you everything I can when you are able to reach me, but the things that we say here are not always safe. Others might be listening.”

“Who could be listening?”

Serafina frowned. “An evil. I will shield you from her the best that I can. Right now, she is contained. So what matters is that you know you are on the right path. And I know…I know that it is hard. But I have faith in you because the reason you have magic…”

Her skin started flickering again. She shook her head and tried to grab Cyrene’s hand. But she went straight through Cyrene, as if she were made of air.

“Sera, please,” she gasped.

“The reason you have magic,” Serafina rasped out, “is because…I had a child.”

Then, she disappeared once more in a flash. Cyrene glanced around, trying to process what she had just heard.

Serafina had had a child?

That must mean…Cyrene…was descended from that ancient Doma line.

Her thoughts became muddy, and then the scene before her disappeared entirely.

Cyrene gasped and shot straight up in bed.

It was nighttime, and the room was empty.

She opened her hand, only to find it empty. No coin.

“Just a dream. Just a dream,” she whispered.

A twinge in the pit of her stomach said she’d not eaten in a while. She took stock of her surroundings—small wooden room with one pallet bed, a chair, and a water pitcher. She eased out of bed and then nearly fell to her knees. Reaching for the chair, she hoisted herself back to her unsteady feet and poured herself a glass of water.

After drinking a full glass, she forced herself to stop. The last thing she wanted was to get sick. She was weak and ached all over, but she was clearheaded. That was a first in a long time.

Cyrene eased open the door to the room she was staying in and found herself in a tiny log cabin. The large living space had a clean stone floor, crackling fireplace, and a small kitchen. An old woman Cyrene had never seen before was seated in a rocking chair, fast asleep.

But no one else.

Not her friends.

Not her family.

Nothing to indicate where she was or what she was doing here.

Alone. All alone again.