Cyrene bit her lip and then decided it was better to get out of there than to ask questions. She edged past the woman and out the front door with no trouble at all, breathing a sigh of relief when she got the door shut behind her.

But what she was looking at was as foreign as could possibly be. Maybe more foreign than anywhere else she had ever traveled. She wasn’t in a city or on the water or at court or really any of those things.

She was in a…village.

A small, small village.

The setting sun revealed mountains off to her right. The scant log cabins were clustered off the edge of a forest. The air had a bite to it that made her think she was in the north, but otherwise, she couldn’t have placed herself on a map.

Cyrene suddenly heard laughter from not too far off. She marked the cabin she had woken up in and then slunk through the shadows, down the lane, until she finally came upon a bonfire blazing high. And it was surrounded on all sides by people…dancing, drinking, laughing.

Happy people.

She hung back and observed the festivities. Bare-chested boys younger than her picked girls in flower crowns out of the crowd. They danced in circles, swinging their flowing skirts to the up-tempo beat. Men and women alike were circling around barrels of spirits and drinking merrily. Food was spread out on a long wooden table nearby. But of her friends, she saw nothing.

As the song ended, an old woman moved forward. Her limbs were stiff, her shoulders hunched. A youth helped her onto a stage. She brushed her waist-length braided hair off her shoulder and raised her hands.

A hush fell over the crowd, and Cyrene felt a brush of magic touch her skin. She jolted in shock.

“Come closer,” she said, her old voice so frail yet somehow amplified beyond the stretch of her vocal cords. “Old Mana wants to tell you a story.”

As if under a spell, Cyrene felt her feet moving. She came out of her hiding spot and stood among the people of this strange village. But no one seemed to notice her. Everyone’s eyes were caught on Mana and the tale she was about to weave.

“Long ago, at a time before our people, there was a lone wolf. His pack had abandoned him in the dark mountains to starve. They had found him nearing the human settlements, risking them all, and he had been cast aside to fend for himself. Without his pack, the lone wolf was lost, broken, and desperate.”

Mana waved her hand in the air, and the dark sky shimmered with an image of the wolf. Cyrene’s eyes were glued to the display.

“He ventured deeper into the mountains. Farther and farther, he went. He was determined to find people of his own sort. Ones who knew the value of knowledge, the taste of freedom, and had the heart of a believer.”

She cast her hand forward in a sweeping motion. This time, three objects floated in the air before her—a book, an arrow, and a heart.

“Alone on that mountain, he spent one week searching for a way out and a way to begin anew. When he climbed out of that mountain pass and found this land, he knew he had found his salvation. A new way of life and a deepened belief in who he was.”

She raised her hand, and stars ignited over the heads of the bare-chested boys. “Lone wolves, assemble.”

The boys moved to stand before her. Not a one of them was older than fifteen. Some, it seemed, were much younger. And then, out of nowhere, a girl scrambled into the fold. She wore nothing but a scrap to cover her breasts and the tight-fitted pants the other boys were wearing.

Mana gave her an outraged look but seemed to decide to berate the girl at a later date.

“Lone wolves, you honor your people and your heritage today by venturing back into those mountains to find whether or not you have the heart of a believer.”

“Aye!” they all cheered as one.

“You have one week in the mountains. You may take nothing with you, save one book, one arrow, and your own beating heart. May you return with all of them,” she said rather ominously.

“Aye!” they shouted again.

“Good luck.”

The crowd erupted into applause and cheers. As one, the boys trotted off into the darkness, toward the mountains beyond. The spell was broken as Mana grabbed the girl by the shoulder to stop her from following after them. Cyrene shook her head as everyone began to move again.

Cyrene was trying to get her bearings on the situation as the party started up around her again. There were enough people that she could blend into the crowd but not enough that they wouldn’t notice an outsider. Her feet moved out of the circle and away from the group, but when she heard what the people near her were saying, she slowed.

“It is too bad that we have to send them this week,” someone said behind Cyrene. “I don’t feel safe, having Barton out with all the attacks.”

Attacks?

What attacks?

“I agree. We should have followed the wraiths farther into the forest and taken back our land. We give up more and more of the trees every day.”

“The more we chase, the more of us that die. If we leave them alone, they only—”

“Take one of us a month?” someone else shouted. “That is not acceptable. Not with our numbers so low since those southern Byern bastards keep stealing our best and brightest.”

Cyrene’s head was reeling. She must be in another kingdom for them to think of Byern so poorly.

A cold northern kingdom perhaps.

Carhara?

Mastira?

Cyrene heard the next comment as she slunk away, only because the man was shouting in his inebriation.

“What we need is to mount an attack. Send men into the woods to stop this. Then, we can actually pull up the harvest. Because, if we do not work soon, snow will be upon us, and then we’ll go hungry all winter!”

Cyrene had been about to turn around to demand answers to all of her burning questions when Ahlvie exploded through the group. She gasped at the sight of him, and then he pulled Cyrene into a bone-crushing hug.

“You’re alive!”

“Yes, I’m alive,” she choked out.

Ahlvie was squeezing the life out of her.

“But, if you keep hugging me, I might not make it.”

“Oh, right,” he said, abruptly releasing her. His eyes stared deep into her own. “And you’re…you’re really okay?”

“Weak and hungry, but, yeah, otherwise okay.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Wow.”

“What?” she asked.

But she was promptly cut off by Avoca slamming into her. “Do not ever do that again!”

“Okay,” Cyrene gasped.

“You’re crushing her,” Ahlvie observed.

Avoca reluctantly let her go. They both stared back into her eyes, as if they were seeing a ghost.

“Seriously, what is up with you two? And where are we? Some Doma magic was used by an old woman, and they sent kids up into the mountains, alone, with just an arrow. Not even a bow! I’m wondering if we should go after them. Plus, they wouldn’t let the girl go with them! How backward is that? Women can do anything men can do.”

And then Ahlvie was doubled over on his knees, laughing hysterically. Avoca clapped him on the back twice. Maybe a little too hard.

He straightened and held up his hand, as if he couldn’t keep it together. He wiped his eyes. “Phew! That was…wow. I’ve missed you.”

“I don’t…what did I say?”

“Cyrene,” Ahlvie said, gesturing to the bonfire, the people, and all the tiny cabins, “welcome to Fen.”

“Fen,” she whispered.

He grinned like a lone wolf himself. “This is my home.”

Cyrene’s cheeks heated. Foot, meet mouth. “Ahlvie, I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so—”

“Condescending?” he offered. “Entitled? Arrogant?”

She clamped her mouth shut and nodded.

“I’ll forgive it since I’m all of those things as well. And that backward ceremony you were talking about is our most sacred ceremony. I went out when I was fourteen, and I turned out just fine.”

Avoca snorted next to him.

“I feel horrible. I should have learned by now that, just because I don’t understand, it doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

“Well, you were raised from the dead. I would think it’d make you cranky.”

“Raised from the dead?” she gasped.

“We have a lot to discuss,” Avoca said. “We should go back to Avniella’s.”

“Avniella?”

Ahlvie grinned and slung an arm over her shoulders. “Ready to meet my mom?”

“Your…your mom?” she sputtered.

“Yep. You get to meet the person who I learned all my annoying habits from.”

Avoca raised her eyebrows. “Avniella is not a drunk, nor a cheat.”

“But she sure has a way with words,” Ahlvie said. “Plus…you haven’t seen her drink. She can drink grown men under the table.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but…how exactly did we get here?” Cyrene asked.

“By horse,” Avoca said, as if that ended the discussion. Then, she bustled Cyrene along back to the cabin she had woken up in.

When they entered, she found it full of people. In fact, there were so many people in the small room, it felt claustrophobic. Cyrene shrank back as all eyes stared at her.

“I found her,” Avoca said as way of an introduction.

“Actually, I found her,” Ahlvie interrupted.

Her eyes flickered to the three people in the room that she didn’t know. An older woman, who Cyrene realized was the person who had fallen asleep by the fireplace when she escaped; a woman in her middling years; and a man of indeterminate age, who was as thick as a tree trunk.

The younger woman stepped forward, silencing Ahlvie. “We’re so glad to see you on your feet, Cyrene. I’m sure you are very confused. I am Avniella, mother to your traveling companions, Ahlvie and Aubron. This is my brother, Ryon, and my mother, Lace.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” she said, manners kicking in.

“Pleasure is all ours,” Avniella said. Her honey hair fell in a thick braid over her shoulder, and when she smiled, laugh lines creased her eyes and mouth. She seemed the type to laugh a lot. “We’re so pleased to see you well.”

“Yes. Well, thank you for your hospitality and everything you did when I was ill,” Cyrene said.

Her eyes darted around the room, finding first Matilde, then Vera, then Orden, then Reeve and Aubron, and finally Dean. He stared back with a hollow expression and sad eyes.

Cyrene cut back to Avniella. “How long was that exactly?”

Everyone shuffled their feet, as if they didn’t want to talk about what had happened.

“Two months,” Orden finally barked out.

Cyrene swayed on her feet, and Avoca put a steadying hand on her.

“That long?”

Vera stepped forward with a grim look on her face. “Everyone here knows the grave danger that you were in, so I will not spare you what happened. You took blood magic, Cyrene.”

She swallowed and nodded.

“There are only three ways in which you can access magic—birth, earned, and stolen. Blood magic is a…curse. It’s stolen magic. It uses you up instead of you using it, and when you run out, it eats away at not just your body…but also your soul.”

Cyrene placed her hand on her heart. “Did…did…”

She couldn’t bring her mouth to shape the words. Did I lose part of my soul? My whole soul?

“No one has ever recovered from the corruption without taking more blood magic, and that has its own price.”

“But then…how am I living?”

“We infused you with magic. Matilde, Avoca, and I. It was so draining that even some of the local healers and their ancient ones assisted where they could,” Vera said, nodding at Lace in thanks. “We weren’t sure it would work. We only hoped for the best.”

“Thank you,” Cyrene said around a suddenly tight throat. “You…you did all of this for me, not knowing whether or not I would even live?”

“We’re not entirely sure how you are alive,” Matilde said. “Or the state of your mind now that you are fully awake.”

“I don’t feel like myself,” she told them.

The room tensed at those words.

“But I don’t feel like the thing I was before either. It’s as if I’m something entirely new.”

“I believe you are, dear child,” Lace said. “I can feel it in my bones. Nothing in this world has ever seen the likes of you.”

Cyrene wasn’t sure how she felt about being something new. At the same time, she finally felt like herself again. As if the foolish girl who had been so anxious to prove herself were a dream. As if that person she had been back in Byern, surrounded by the Dremylons and court and expectations, was a nightmare. This…this was her reality.

“What happens now?” Reeve finally asked from the corner.

He had his arm slung around Aubron’s waist, and they looked content.

“You are all more than welcome to stay in Fen for as long as you need,” Avniella said.

“I fear we must be on our way,” Matilde said.

“No,” Cyrene spoke up.

All eyes snapped back to her.

“No?” Avoca asked in confusion.

“These people housed me for two months at my darkest hour. I owe them a life debt,” Cyrene said.

Avoca’s eyes rounded. She understood the importance of that statement. She had surrendered her own life to Cyrene once and bound them together for it.

“It’s not necessary,” Avniella said, waving her off.

Cyrene stepped forward. “There is a threat to this village, hunting and killing your people.”

Ryon nodded. “The wraiths.”

“Don’t listen to his silly ghost stories,” Lace said, swatting at her son. “Focus on your mission. We can handle ourselves here.”

“I would like to end this threat to your village.”

“Cyrene, you can hardly stand up,” Ahlvie noted. “How are you going to stop these wraiths?”

She smiled and touched his hand. “The way we always have. Together.”