áine POV

  The throne room of the Summer Court stretched endless and cold before áine as she approached her mother. Queen Titania sat upon her throne of twisted golden thorns, her gown of woven sunlight and shadow rippling with barely contained power.

  Each step feels like walking to my own execution.

  The air itself seemed to crackle and bow under her presence, pressing down until áine's knees finally buckled. Invisible tendrils of magic wound around her ankles, a silent reminder of the court's absolute control.

  "My daughter," Titania's voice poured like honey over broken glass. "Where is your sister?"

  The word 'vanished' caught in her throat. How could she explain the impossible - that Kaliana hadn't just disappeared, but had been consumed by a power beyond their comprehension?

  áine's mind raced with the potential consequences. If Titania discovered Kaliana's true power - her ability to manipulate void energy - she would become nothing more than a weapon.

  The court sees magical potential as a resource to be harvested, not a life to be protected. Kaliana would become a prisoner, her spirit slowly crushed beneath layers of magical bindings and political manipulation.

  áine kept her head bowed, frost spreading beneath her palms where they pressed against the marble floor. Her fingers trembled almost imperceptibly, a subtle betrayal of her inner turmoil.

  One wrong word, and everything falls apart.

  "She..." áine's voice wavered slightly before she forced it steady, each word carefully measured. Protect her. At all costs. "There was an incident. The day she disappeared, I felt a power signature unlike anything since..." She hesitated, the name 'Maeve' dying on her lips. We never speak of her. Never.

  "It happened so suddenly – one moment she was there, the next..." She gestured helplessly. "The Wyldwood claimed her. Its boundaries shifted to pull her in, and now..."

  A lie, but a necessary one. Anything to buy Kaliana more time.

  "Now?" Titania's voice held dangerous patience.

  "Now we cannot reach her.”

  Protect her. At all costs.

  The temperature in the throne room dropped several degrees as Titania rose, her crown of golden thorns casting fractured shadows across her perfect features. "You mean to tell me that your sister is loose in the most dangerous forest in all of Tír na nóg?"

  "Yes, Mother." áine fought to keep her voice steady. "Until she chooses to leave its boundaries, there is nothing we can do."

  Titania's laugh held no warmth. "Nothing we can do? Oh, my naive daughter. There is always something to be done." She descended the throne steps, each movement graceful as a predator. "The question is: what aren't you telling me?"

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  áine's heart stuttered. She couldn't reveal her suspicions about Maeve's involvement, about the familiar power signature she'd sensed just before Kaliana vanished. Couldn't admit that she'd been helping her sister resist the court's influence, trying to prevent history from repeating itself.

  "Nothing, Mother," she lied, the words tasting like ashes. "I've told you everything I know."

  "Have you?" Titania's smile showed teeth too sharp to be natural. "Then perhaps you can explain why I sense Oberon's magic lingering in your chambers? Or why the Wyldwood's boundaries shifted exactly when they did?"

  Ice spread further across the marble floor as áine's control slipped. "I... I only sought his counsel in trying to locate Kaliana. Nothing more."

  "Nothing more?" Titania's power pressed down like a physical weight. "We shall see about that, daughter. We shall see."

  The throne room temperature plummeted further as Titania descended the final steps, her crown of golden thorns casting fractured shadows across the marble floor. "The Wild Hunt," she declared, her voice carrying notes of winter storms, "will be released tonight."

  The Wild Hunt wasn't just a tracking party. They were nightmare incarnate - creatures who didn't just hunt, but consumed. Legends spoke of riders who could strip magic from a being's very soul, leaving nothing but an empty husk. Their approach was silent, their hunger absolute.

  áine's heart stuttered. The Wild Hunt hadn't been called in centuries - not since Maeve's disappearance. Its riders were creatures of nightmare, hounds bred from shadow and starlight, horses whose hooves struck sparks from the very air they galloped through. To unleash them now...

  "Mother," she began carefully, frost spreading further beneath her palms, "perhaps we should consider less... dramatic measures. The Wyldwood is vast, and the Hunt's methods are not known for their subtlety."

  "You think your little rebellions escape my notice?" Titania's laugh held no warmth. "Was it subtle when you helped your sister resist the court's influence? When you sought Oberon's counsel behind my back?" She reached down, fingers like ice tracing áine's jaw.

  áine fought to keep her voice steady. "I only wanted to protect her. After what happened to Maeve—"

  "After what happened to Maeve," Titania cut in, her words sharp as midwinter icicles, "you should have learned the price of defiance. Yet here you are, repeating old mistakes." Her grip tightened. "Your sister's void powers are too dangerous to be left unchecked. The Hunt will bring her home - willing or not."

  "And what then?" áine dared to ask. "Will you cage her as you caged Maeve? Force her powers to serve your will until they tear her apart?"

  The slap was swift, precise, and carried enough power to send áine sprawling. She tasted blood - sharp, metallic, with undertones of winter frost.

  A fleeting memory: Years ago, Titania had once brushed áine's hair, her touch gentle. Before power became everything.

  "Your punishment," Titania announced, resuming her throne with fluid grace, "will be to ride with the Hunt. To witness firsthand the consequences of your misplaced loyalty." Her smile showed teeth too sharp to be natural. "Perhaps then you'll remember where your true allegiance should lie."

  áine pushed herself up, feeling ice crystals form where her blood had spilled. "Yes, Mother." The words tasted like ashes and broken promises.

  As she left the throne room, her mother's final words followed like a curse: "Do not fail me in this, daughter. Kaliana will serve the court as she was meant to - or she will not serve at all."

  The implications hung in the air like poison: bring Kaliana home to be controlled, or watch the Hunt tear her apart. There would be no middle ground, no mercy, no escape.

  Unless...

  áine's steps quickened as she headed toward Oberon's tower. If anyone could help her warn Kaliana, it would be him. The Wild Hunt was deadly, yes, but even they could be outmaneuvered - if one knew the right paths, the right words, the right magic.

  She just prayed she would have time enough to set things in motion before the Hunt began its relentless pursuit - and before her mother's curse became prophecy.