Chapter 1: Ember
The sun hung high and merciless, casting its golden heat upon the castle grounds. The stone walls of the manor keep pulsed with warmth, absorbing the unforgiving summer. The air shimmered, heavy with dust and the scent of dry earth, yet Ember hardly noticed.
She perched atop the wooden beams near the training yard, her fiery-red hair glinting like embers, her golden eyes fixed on the Whispering Wood beyond the gates.
Something was there.
Watching.
She felt it—a hum in the air, a pulse beneath her skin, threading through her veins like an unseen force.
She shifted slightly, preparing to climb down, to follow the pull toward the trees—
"Ember!"
The voice snapped her attention back.
She turned, spotting Kasey rushing toward her, dark curls bouncing, frustration and concern mingling in her expression.
"Are you mad? The heat is unbearable!"
Kasey stopped short, hands on her hips, chest rising with sharp breaths.
"You could have met me at the well—why are you up there like some cursed hawk?"
Ember smirked, unfazed. "It’s not so bad."
Kasey scoffed, glancing toward the woods. "...You keep looking over there. What is it?"
Ember hesitated.
She wanted to tell her.
Wanted to say she felt something, that the forest had been pulling at her all day, but instead, she shrugged.
"Nothing. Let’s go before my mother has me locked in again."
She leapt down, landing lightly beside Kasey, but as they walked across the courtyard of the manor, she knew the feeling wasn’t fading.
Something wasn’t finished yet.
A House That Never Felt Like Home
"I swear, I was meant for another family."
Ember sighed, kicking a loose pebble as they walked toward the castle gates.
Kasey snorted, grinning. "If you had a choice, you’d be my sister instead."
Ember laughed softly, but the weight behind her own words stayed lodged in her chest.
Kasey reached out, tugging at a strand of Ember’s hair, watching how the sunlight made it shift from copper to crimson, like living embers.
"Your hair is strange, you know?"
Ember pulled away, rolling her eyes. "Gee, thanks."
Kasey shrugged. "No—I mean it’s… different. Like something out of a prophecy. No one else looks like you."
Ember’s smile faded.
She knew that.
It wasn’t just her hair.
Her golden eyes, her skin, the markings along her arms that almost looked like faint feathers under firelight—
She had spent years staring into the polished silver mirror of her chamber, realizing she did not look like them.
Like her family.
Like anyone.
The moment Ember stepped past the threshold, she knew.
The air shifted—thick, pressing, colder despite the lingering heat outside.
And then—a hand lashed out, seizing her by the hair, yanking hard enough to make her stumble.
"What took you so long?"
Her mother’s voice was sharp, unforgiving, and before Ember could answer, she was shoved forward, landing hard against the wooden floor of the great hall.
Her pulse pounded, the stone walls towering above her, pressing in on her thoughts.
She knew what was coming next.
"I was with Kasey," Ember said carefully, keeping her voice steady.
Wrong answer.
Her mother’s eyes darkened, fury curling in the air like smoke.
"Did I not tell you to stay away from that girl?"
Ember swallowed. "She is kind—"
Slap.
The sound cracked through the chamber, sharp, deliberate.
Her cheek burned, but she refused to flinch, refused to cry.
Not this time.
Her mother sneered. "Talking back now? Perhaps your father will want to hear of this—his daughter running about like a common street girl."
Fear curled deep in Ember’s chest.
No. Not Father.
"Mother—please, don’t tell him. I swear I’ll be home on time."
Her mother’s expression remained cold, unimpressed.
"To your chamber. Do not come out until dawn."
Ember wiped her tear-streaked face, forcing herself to breathe through the pain, through the lingering ache in her cheek.
She sat in silence, the soft flicker of candlelight casting shadows across her chamber walls, shifting and stretching like restless spirits.
She reached for her parchment, determined to distract herself, to bury her mind in studies.
But then—a pull.
A whisper, silent yet deafening, weaving through the air around her.
Her gaze drifted, almost against her will, toward the silver mirror resting against the far wall.
And then—she saw her.
A girl—no, a reflection—but not her own.
Hair like woven frost, eyes like shards of ice.
The stranger in the mirror smiled, serene, knowing.
Ember’s body locked in place, her pulse hammering against her ribs.
Who was she?
Then—a crackle.
A sound that did not belong, like glass splintering, yet the mirror remained untouched.
The air changed—thicker, heavier—pressing into her like an unseen hand gripping her throat.
Then, a voice. Not spoken, but felt.
You are not ready.
Ember gasped, jerking back, her fingers clutching the edge of her desk as the words echoed through her bones, threading through her mind like ancient silk.
Not ready? For what?
Her hands trembled. She had never been ready for anything.
The stranger’s smile widened, the frost in her hair shimmering brighter, colder, the air in the chamber dropping to a breathless chill.
Then—darkness crashed into her, swallowing her whole.
When Ember woke, the room had settled.
No whispering winds.
No frost.
No girl.
Only the lingering cold, deep enough to make her shiver, though she wasn’t certain if the chill came from the air or from within herself.
Her breath was slow, measured, but her pulse betrayed her—it hammered beneath her skin, racing as if her body already knew something her mind refused to comprehend.
She swallowed hard and snapped her gaze back to the mirror, heart pounding in her chest.
Her reflection had returned—but something was wrong.
Her golden eyes flickered, shifting, for only a breath, into something else.
A flash of ice-blue, gone before she could blink.
A trick of the light?
Or a warning?
She pushed away from her desk, wrapping her arms around herself, though she knew no amount of warmth could soothe the unease curling in her gut.
Something was coming.
And she would never be ready.
The room was suffocating—too quiet, too still, like the very walls were waiting for her to acknowledge what had just happened. The flickering candle on her bedside table cast elongated shadows, bending unnaturally across the stone walls. She could still feel the presence of the girl in the mirror, though she was long gone.
Was she ever truly here?
She clenched her fists, nails digging into the fabric of her sleeves as she tried to calm herself. She shouldn’t be scared—but she was.
For years, she had felt different, out of place—like something about her didn’t belong in this world, like she was merely a guest in a life she wasn’t supposed to live.
She had always ignored it.
But now?
Now, the feeling had a face.
And it had stared back at her from the mirror, smiling.
Ember’s breath hitched. She needed air—needed to move, to run, to escape the weight pressing down on her chest.
But even as she reached for the door, hesitation gripped her like iron chains.
Something had changed.
She knew it.
The girl knew it.
Whatever had happened—it wasn’t over.
Not yet.
She turned once more to the mirror, slowly this time, bracing herself for something she couldn’t name.
The silver surface was ordinary again, reflecting nothing but her own shaken expression.
But deep in her bones, in the twisting unease growing in her stomach—
She knew it wasn’t truly gone.