The storm didn't just howl—it screamed.
Lyra Hale pulled her threadbare coat tighter around her shoulders, squinting through wind-lashed rain as she stumbled down the muddy path. Her phone had died two miles back. Her car had broken down somewhere in the hills behind her. And now the forest, which had seemed peaceful in the daylight, felt like a living thing—like it was breathing.
"Great," she muttered, brushing wet hair from her eyes. "Totally fine. Just me, a busted phone, and an actual horror movie setting."
Thunder cracked overhead, sending a shiver through her spine. She hadn't meant to walk this far. She hadn't meant to get lost. She just wanted to get away—from the cramped apartment she could barely afford, from the failed college classes she didn't care about, from the city that never made space for dreamers like her.
But this… this was not the escape she'd had in mind.
Another fork in the path appeared up ahead, half-swallowed by mist. The rain thickened. Her boots squelched. And then,
She saw it.
A stone archway, half-covered in ivy and glowing faintly blue in the darkness, standing impossibly tall between two trees. It was out of place. Wrong. Like something from a storybook or a nightmare. Lyra stopped dead.
There was no road sign. No lanterns. No sound but the wind and her own heartbeat.
And yet… the air beyond the arch shimmered. Moved. Like water.
A voice inside her whispered: Don't go in.
But another, quieter voice said: What if everything changes?
And before she knew it, her feet were moving. Step by step. Toward the arch. Toward the light. Toward something not quite of this world.
The second she passed through, the world cracked.
It wasn't like falling. It was like being pulled inside-out. The forest disappeared. The rain stopped midair. Her breath hitched and then she slammed onto the ground, gasping.
Except… the ground wasn't mud anymore.
It was soft grass. Rich and fragrant. And above her, a blood-red moon hung low over a violet sky.
Lyra sat up slowly. The trees here were taller. Twisted. They hummed with magic she didn't understand. In the distance, a horn blew deep and mournful.
And then she heard the voice.
"Who dares trespass on Fae soil?"
It was cold. Velvet and sharp like broken glass. A man stepped into the clearing, cloaked in black, his silver hair glinting under the strange moonlight. His eyes icy, ancient, and merciless locked on her.
Lyra's breath caught.
Because he wasn't human. Not remotely.
He was beautiful in the way winter is beautiful silent, sharp, and capable of killing you if you made the wrong move.
"I,I'm lost," she managed, rising shakily to her feet.
The man didn't blink. Didn't move. "No one enters this realm by accident."
"I swear, I didn't mean to"
"You crossed the gate. You are marked now."
She blinked. "Marked for what?"
His eyes darkened. "Me."