Annemarie exhaled sharply, forcing herself to steady her breathing. She was still angry. Still tired.

  But rage wouldn’t fix this.

  She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to push past the heat simmering under her skin. Arguing wouldn’t change the past. Yelling wouldn’t reverse the damage that had already been done.

  If what Callista was saying was true— if the bond had been hindering her progress, allowing it to spread— then Annemarie had no right to stand here and demand answers without offering something in return.

  She squared her shoulders, meeting Callista’s gaze head-on. “Fine,” she said. “Then what do we do?”

  Callista blinked. For the first time, something in her hardened expression wavered— just a fraction, just enough to reveal the briefest flicker of surprise.

  Not at the question. At the fact that Annemarie had asked at all.

  “You actually want to help,” Callista asked, her voice more measured now, less biting.

  Annemarie frowned. “Of course I want to help. What, did you think I was going to throw a fit and storm off?”

  Callista raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, but she didn’t deny it.

  Melissa huffed. “Honestly, we weren’t ruling it out.”

  “Not helping, Mel,” Julia muttered, shooting her a glare. Melissa held up her hands in mock surrender, but the tension in the air didn’t lift.

  “We’re bonded, Callista. Stuck together, whether we want it or not. I’m on your side.”

  Callista sighed, rolling one stiff shoulder as if she were trying to ease out a deep, lingering ache. Her expression was unreadable again, guarded— but there was hesitation there, just beneath the surface. As if she was still debating how much to tell them.

  Then, after a long pause, she spoke. “Now that we’re together, the bond won’t pull us toward each other anymore,” she said. “That means I won’t be constantly ripped away when I need to focus. But more than that—” She hesitated. Her jaw tightened, fingers curling at her sides. As if she had to force the words out. “There’s a chance we can do more than just hold back the curse,” she finally admitted, words slow and deliberate. “We might be able to break it.”

  Julia straightened. “You think we can stop the Mirrorwood?”

  Callista didn’t answer right away. Instead, she exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the weight of the question itself. “I don’t know,” she admitted at last, honest but grim. “No one knows how to stop it. Everything I’ve tried has only held it at bay, nothing more. But the bond—” She glanced at Annemarie, her eyes sharp, calculating. “The bond is powerful,” she said. “Two souls pulling from the same well of magic. If we can harness it, instead of letting it control us—”

  She let the thought hang between them, unfinished but heavy with meaning. The implications were clear.

  Brenna frowned. “That’s a big if.”

  “I know,” Callista said, her tone unwavering. “But it’s the only real option we have.”

  Silence settled over the group, thick and suffocating. Slowly, inevitably, all eyes turned toward Annemarie.

  Her throat felt dry. The idea of harnessing the bond, of using it instead of fearing it, should have terrified her. But after everything— after being dragged across a world she barely understood, after the sleepless nights, the visions, the pull toward Callista like something buried in her bones— this was the first time she had a choice.

  She could walk away.

  She could turn her back on all of this, return to Ismay’s Landing, try to pretend she was the same girl who had stepped through the portal weeks ago. Try to convince herself she could go back to the life she’d barely started before.

  Or—

  Annemarie inhaled slowly, steadying her breath, steadying herself. Then she met Callista’s gaze, matching its weight, its certainty.

  “Fine,” she said, the word stronger than she expected. “Let’s break the Curse.”

  They set up camp just beyond the Curse’s reach, on a flat stretch of land where the grass still grew and the trees weren’t watching. Where the air no longer pulsed with something wrong, something hungry, something waiting for them to look away.

  It wasn’t safe. Not truly. Nowhere near the Mirrorwood could ever be called that. But it was as good as they were going to get.

  The fire burned low and steady, licking at the dry wood with a slow, crackling hunger. Shadows stretched long against the ground, shifting in time with the flickering flames— but they were normal. Recognizable. Not warped like they had been in the wood.

  The air was cooler here, no longer thick with the unnatural weight of the cursed land, but the tension in the group still lingered like smoke. No one spoke much as they worked.

  Brandon and Julia unpacked the bedrolls, movements stiff with exhaustion. Melissa crouched near the fire, sharpening a blade that didn’t need sharpening, her fingers tight against the worn handle. Brenna sat cross-legged a few feet away, quietly reinforcing the protective wards around their perimeter, tracing runes into the dirt with precise, practiced hands. The sigils glowed faintly, fading into the earth as she whispered the last of the incantation.

  Gorgoloth had settled himself close to Melissa, his massive, spindly legs curled beneath him, eyes reflecting the fire’s glow like distant lanterns. Ever so often, one of his many limbs twitched as if something unseen had caught his attention. He made no move to investigate.

  And Callista— Callista sat apart from them, her back to the fire, staring out toward the treeline where the Mirrorwood’s edge loomed, jagged and wrong. Her shoulders were tense, her body still as stone, but Annemarie could tell she wasn’t resting.

  She was watching. Waiting. Holding the line even now, even here.

  Annemarie pulled her cloak tighter around herself, staring into the flames, her mind still circling the same thought over and over.

  They had agreed to this. To breaking the Curse. But that meant stepping further into something none of them truly understood.

  And for the first time since they had arrived in Aleria, Annemarie wasn’t sure if she was more afraid of what lay ahead, or of what they might have already set into motion.

  “So,” Melissa said, stretching her legs toward the fire, her voice deliberately casual. “Breaking a thirty-year, world-ending curse. Where do we start?”

  No one laughed.

  Callista exhaled, rolling a knot of tension from her shoulder. “We find who started it.”

  Simple words. Impossible weight.

  Julia muttered something under her breath, rubbing at her temples like she was already regretting everything. “Right. Except this curse has been around for decades, and I doubt whoever’s responsible signed a damn note.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “There are records,” Callista said. “Scattered, but they exist. There are people out there who know things. We need to find out what they know and who was behind it.”

  Brandon frowned. The firelight cast sharp lines across his face, his usual skepticism deepening into something closer to unease. “Even if we find them, how do we stop them? This happened a while ago. If they’re still alive, they’re probably—”

  “Powerful,” Brenna finished grimly. She was still seated by the wards, her hands resting loosely over her knees. Her fingers twitched, like she was running through calculations in her head. “And there could be more than one person responsible.”

  The fire crackled. A grim silence settled over the group, thick and unmoving.

  They all knew what this meant. The Mirrorwood hadn’t just appeared. It had been made— not by accident, not by nautre, not by time. Someone— or multiple someones— had deliberately skewed the balance of nature. And they might not be done.

  Annemarie sat quietly, staring at the fire, fingers curled loosely around the edge of the blanket. The night stretched around them, vast and unmoving, but the weight in her chest refused to settle.

  The bond still hummed between her and Callista, an unspoken presence neither of them had quite acknowledged again. It wasn’t painful, not anymore. Not in the way it had been when they were miles apart, pulling against something they didn’t understand. But it was there, always there, threading through her like a second pulse.

  She didn’t regret agreeing to this. But the sheer weight of it— the decades-old magic, the unknown enemy, the curse that could wipe out half of Iona if it spread any further— it felt impossible.

  The fire crackled, sending a slow shower of embers spiraling into the night air. No one spoke for a long moment.

  Then Julia shifted, rubbing a hand over her face. “We need leads,” she said, glancing toward Callista. “Where do we start looking?”

  Callista didn’t answer right away. Her gaze flickered toward the distant treeline, where the Mirrorwood loomed, waiting. She was thinking— not hesitating, just weighing her words. Choosing the best way to break apart something too vast to be contained in a single sentence.

  “Swynden is our best bet,” she said at last. “There are more records in Atriane. Unbiased ones. And deeper in Milana, there are still people who remember the start of it.”

  Melissa lifted a brow. “Survivors?”

  Callista nodded. “And scholars. Soldiers. Traitors. Some of them saw the beginning of this firsthand.”

  Brenna huffed, crossing her arms. “If they survived this long, I doubt they’d be eager to help.”

  “We’ll make them help,” Callista said simply. “Breaking the Curse is one thing. Rooting out the perpetrators will be another.”

  Julia exhaled, shaking her head. “Saints, you really have been doing this alone for far too long.”

  Callista didn’t argue. Didn’t say yes, didn’t say no. She just let the silence answer for her.

  The fire popped, breaking the moment. Annemarie let out a slow breath, straightening. “Alright,” she said, her voice steady, drawing their attention. “We find who started it. We break the Curse. And then we end things for good.”

  The campfire burned low, its glow flickering against the cool night air. The others had drifted into exhausted silence, some half-dozing, some pretending to sleep.

  But Annemarie wasn’t sleeping. And neither was Callista.

  The other woman sat a few feet away, fingers absently turning a small charm over in her hand— a delicate silver coin, edges worn smooth, the faint outline of an old crest barely visible. She hadn’t spoken since the discussion ended.

  And Annemarie, despite everything, was tired of the silence.

  “So,” she said, voice quiet but sharp enough to cut through the stillness. “You really weren’t going to say anything to me, huh?”

  Callista didn’t look up. “What would you have wanted me to say?”

  “I don’t know,” Annemarie muttered. “Maybe something other than ‘you shouldn’t have come’?”

  Callista exhaled sharply through her nose, but there was no real bite to it. “I didn’t expect you to be here,” she admitted. “I didn’t expect you to be real.”

  Annemarie blinked. “Excuse me?”

  Callista finally looked at her, tilting her head slightly. “You’re from another world,” she said plainly. “A world where this doesn’t exist. Where magic doesn’t exist. I thought the bond was... I don’t know. A mistake. A story I told myself when things got worse. But then you actually showed up, and now you’re sitting here like this is just another day in your life.”

  Annemarie huffed a quiet, tired laugh. “Yeah, well. My life’s been pretty weird lately.”

  “Clearly.”

  A long pause.

  Then Annemarie sighed, shifting her weight. “So what do we do? About us?”

  Callista raised a brow. “Us?”

  “The bond,” Annemarie clarified. “You know what I mean.”

  Callista rolled the silver charm between her fingers, considering. “We learn to work with it,” she said. “We don’t have a choice, otherwise.”

  “Yeah, but—” Annemarie hesitated. “We’re supposed to be connected, right? But I don’t know a damn thing about you.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Oh?” Annemarie raised an eyebrow. “What do I know?”

  Callista held her gaze, unflinching. “You know what it’s like to wake up somewhere you don’t remember walking to.”

  Annemarie’s stomach twisted. Yeah. Yeah, she did.

  The fire crackled softly, breaking the silence that stretched between them.

  Callista didn’t press further. She just turned the charm over one last time, then tucked it away into the folds of her coat. “You want to know me?” she asked, voice quieter now.

  Annemarie nodded.

  Callista nodded back, just once, as if deciding something. “Then keep up,” she said simply. “I don’t have it in me to repeat things.”

  After a long pause, she finally spoke. “I grew up in Byfox,” she began, voice steady but distant. “It was beautiful once. Before the fire. Before the Curse.”

  “We were privileged,” Callista continued. “The noble house of Nazenne and the last Ettaria scion, united. My mother, Duchess Vevra, was a powerful woman— not just in name. My father Hiram had married into the title, but he was loved by the people.”

  She traced the fabric of her sleeve absently, fingers curling slightly. “I had three younger brothers— Jochem was fourteen, Turel eleven, and Hiram, who was almost six. And one younger sister— Aida.”

  Annemarie flinched slightly at the name, but Callista didn’t stop. “Aida turned nine after everything happened,” she said softly. “I made her a cake.”

  The others had stirred, and were now listening intently. Melissa arched an eyebrow. “You? A cake?”

  “A mud cake,” Callista clarified. “With leaves and berries for decoration. We were hiding at the time.”

  No one spoke. They already knew how that story ended.

  Callista exhaled slowly. “But before that, we were happy. My parents would stay up late, meeting with their advisors more often than not, but they did their best to keep the worst of it from us. We knew the world was dangerous— politically, magically, everything was shifting— but they shielded us from it as much as they could.” A bitter, almost laughless chuckle left her lips. “I think I believed, for a long time, that we were untouchable.”

  Her eyes darkened, something distant and cold settling over her features. “I was wrong. The assassins came at night,” she continued. “There must have been a traitor in the guard. It was too easy.”

  Brandon stiffened slightly, but he said nothing.

  “Aida had a cold,” Callista murmured. “Or something like it. She was too tired for dinner, so I stayed with her. I was reading her a story while the others ate.” Her fingers twitched. “Then I heard the sound of steel.”

  Annemarie’s stomach twisted.

  “I took Aida out the back way,” Callista said, voice calm but too steady, too restrained. “I don’t know what I was thinking— just that we had to run. We made it outside, and that’s when I saw it.” Her hands clenched briefly, knuckles pale against the firelight. “The estate was already burning.”

  Silence. The group listened, unmoving, as she continued.

  “We ran,” Callista said simply. “Away from Byfox. Away from the encroaching Curse, or at least, where I thought it was. We lived in the woods for weeks. I didn’t know the Curse was spreading.”

  Her voice went quieter now, and Annemarie already knew what was coming.

  “One day, I left to hunt,” Callista whispered. “I told Aida to stay put. That I’d be back.” Her throat bobbed slightly, but she didn’t stop. “When I returned, the Curse had overtaken the campsite.”

  Melissa muttered something too soft to catch, dragging a hand over her face.

  Callista’s voice didn’t shake, didn’t break. But there was something missing in her tone now, something hollowed out long ago. “She was gone,” she finished. “I never found her.”

  The wind shifted slightly, sending a whisper of cool air across the fire. Callista let the silence stretch between them, absorb the weight of it. Then, finally, she said, “I’ve been alone ever since.”

  Annemarie swallowed hard, but Callista wasn’t looking at her anymore. She was staring into the fire, eyes fixed on something only she could see. And when she spoke again, her voice was quiet, but firm. “Weeks ago, I started feeling it. The tugging in my gut. The bond pulling at me.” She turned back to Annemarie, her golden-brown eyes sharp and knowing. “I don’t have to tell you what that was like,” she said. “You already know.”

  Annemarie did know.

  And for the first time, it occurred to her: she hadn’t been alone. The two of them had been chasing each other.