The forest swallowed her whole.
Dark and endless, it loomed like a forgotten world untouched by time. Towering trees stretched high into the heavens, their knotted branches locking together to block out even the moonlight. A green haze hung thick in the air, the scent of damp moss, old bark, and decaying leaves clinging to her lungs. Every step Aurora took made the ground groan beneath her, soft and wet with layers of fallen foliage and unseen roots that clawed at her feet like the hands of the dead.
Vines curled around tree trunks like serpents, and the silence—broken only by the low hoot of an unseen owl or the sudden cry of a crow—felt sacred, almost dangerous. Shadows moved even when she did not. The air pulsed with a strange, humming stillness, the kind that made the skin crawl and the heart question reality.
It was not just a forest. It was a gate. A warning. A place where no path was safe and nothing alive truly slept.
-
Fog lay like a quilt upon the ground, soft and damp, curling around her ankles. Owls hooted in the distance. Crows shrieked overhead. Somewhere, a wolf howled.
Aurora blinked. She was wide awake now. Her heart pounded.
"Where…?"
She looked around in horror. Her arms were scratched, her feet dirty. She had no memory of how she got here. Just fog. Forest. Fear. And then—
A flicker of light.
There, between the twisted branches, stood a small cottage. Not warm and cozy like a villager's hut.
This was older, carved from blackened stone and roofed with thick, knotted vines. The windows were round like eyes, and from within, a faint amber light flickered. Voices murmured.
She hesitated. But what choice did she have?
Aurora crept forward. Each step echoed against the silence. Her breath was unsteady. Her hand reached for the door.
The instant her fingers touched the wood, it creaked open slowly.
The smell hit her first—herbs, ash, burnt lavender, something sharp like sulfur.
She stepped in slowly. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with jars containing bones, powders, dried flowers, eyeballs suspended in liquid. Strange runes glowed faintly on the floor. A bubbling cauldron gurgled over a smokeless fire.
The door slammed behind her. She screamed and spun around.
The wind inside the cottage stirred the curtains—and then came the voice.
"You have finally come," the voice purred.
From the shadows stepped a tall woman cloaked in cream, Zyra. Her eyes glowed silver—like polished iron—and her skin looked untouched by age.
Aurora's knees trembled. "You…" she whispered. "You are the woman from my dreams."
"I told you," Zyra said, her voice smooth as wine. "You cannot run from what is inside you."
A second voice answered from the darkness "Because what is inside you… is me."
A figure emerged from the shadows.
Aurora gasped. Her breath caught in her throat.
The woman looked exactly like her. Same white hair. Same high cheekbones. Same piercing blue eyes. Only more refined, cloaked in a dark blue velvet robe that shimmered like starlight.
"I am your mother," the woman said. Her voice soft. "I am Elisa."
Aurora staggered back, her hands trembling. "No… no. That is impossible. You… you're dead."
Elisa stepped forward, her eyes gleaming. "Dead? No, child. I only left the world of the living."
"What… what are you saying?" Aurora's voice shook.
"Everything," Elisa said, her voice steady, almost clinical. "My capture, being taken as a war bounty, Rael's part in it… it was all planned. Even Isadora's schemes—we anticipated them and moved accordingly."
Aurora gasped, unable to form words.
Elisa's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "We needed royal blood to mingle with witch's blood. That is why Elareth was chosen. Rael… he was easy to manipulate."
She laughed softly, and from the shadows, the other witches joined her, their laughter cold and echoing.
"When I gave birth to you," Elisa said, stepping closer, "a part of my very spirit came into this world. You… are the vessel of what I truly was. My image, my essence. That is why you are… different. You are a witch, Aurora, just as I am."
Aurora's chest heaved. "You're lying!" she shouted, her voice cracking with disbelief.
Zyra smiled coolly. "Why do you think you have always felt like you did not belong, little one?"
"I do not know," Aurora said, her voice cracking. "But I am not a witch!"
"Not yet," Elisa said gently. "But you are ours. You always have been. I stayed away to protect you—so your spirit would not awaken too soon. But now…" She reached forward, touching Aurora's cheek. "Now your light has begun to shine."
Aurora pushed her hand away.
"You stayed away? When I scrubbed palace floors in Elareth?" she snapped, her voice rising. "When Evelyn spat on me? When I slept on straw and washed horses? When they told me I was nothing? When I was bartered away? Where were you then—protecting me, or abandoning me?"
Elisa's eyes glimmered with sorrow. "I could not reach you. You had to endure it… before you could awaken."
Aurora shook her head, tears blurring her vision. "Then why come now? What do you want from me?"
Zyra tone turned cold. "Your power."
Aurora frowned. "My power? What power… and why?"
"To make us unstoppable," Zyra answered sharply. "With you, the high witches of the Blacklands will kneel. No one will challenge our dominion. You are the Supreme One, Archon. Born of blood and starlight."
Aurora's tears dried, and her back straightened.
"And if I say no?"
Zyra's smile curled like smoke. "Then we will take from you… what you love."
Elisa stepped forward. "But we do not wish to war with you, Aurora. We seek your rule." Her gaze hardened, steady. "You may even judge those who wounded you. You have that right now."
"I do not want revenge," Aurora said coldly. "I do not want to hurt anyone."
"Liar," Zyra snapped. "You have dreamed of it. You have imagined it. The whip reversed. The chains broken."
Aurora's voice now rose with strength. "That may be true. But I am not you. And I will not become you."
Elisa sighed, pained. "Then we have no choice."
Zyra raised her hand. "Defy us, and you—"
"-and what?" Aurora shouted.
Her voice exploded into the air. The very walls of the cottage shuddered. The flames flickered and went out. Shelves rattled. A crack split the floor.
Even Aurora gasped. The witches stared at her—wide-eyed.
She looked down at her trembling hands. "I… I did that?"
None could reply. All stared at her in disbelief. Overwhelmed, Aurora wished the door would open for her. Suddenly, it flew open. Her eyes widened.
Elisa shouted, "You cannot leave!"
But Aurora was already running. Her feet pounded the earth, dodging roots and rocks. The wind roared in her ears. She ran, even though she did not know where the forest would take her.
Back in the cottage…..
Elisa stood, tears in her eyes. "She is stronger than we thought."
"She will not come willingly," Zyra hissed. "So we take what she loves. Crush her heart, and her power will fall into our hands."
Elisa looked away. But she did not object.
-
The grand courtroom of Velmora was not meant for ordinary affairs—it was a chamber carved from shadowed stone and veined marble, where truth was meant to tremble under the weight of silence and judgment. Cold light streamed through the stained-glass windows, painting the floors in shifting colors of crimson and blue. The court was quieter than usual. Tense. Expectant.
King Aldric sat upon the obsidian throne, robed not in ceremonial gold but in dark velvet, a silent fury brewing behind his sharp gaze. His crown sat heavy on his head, not out of pride—but responsibility. He did not speak, not at first.
The doors creaked open.
Two queens entered, escorted by guards. Virelda moved with practiced poise, her steps elegant and deliberate, her expression unreadable. Selene was less composed—though regal, there was tension in her posture, the hint of a scoff curling her lip, a flicker of confusion in her darting eyes.
They stood before him.
"Where is she?" Aldric's voice rang out, low and cutting, shattering the silence like glass. He did not rise, but the force in his tone made the air feel heavier.
Selene blinked. "Your Majesty… who?"
"Do not play the fool," he snapped, eyes narrowing.
Virelda's brows twitched faintly, but she said nothing.
"Aurora is missing," Aldric continued, his voice laced with quiet rage. "Vanished. In the dead of night. No trace. No farewell. And none of the guards saw her leave."
Selene's mouth parted, then shut. "We—we had no idea. This is the first we are hearing of it."
"I find that hard to believe," Aldric said coldly. "Both of you have had an obsession with her since the day she stepped into this palace. And now, conveniently, she is gone."
Virelda spoke at last, her voice soft, almost too calm. "If I may, Your Majesty… your accusation is misplaced. We have not seen Aurora since the royal breakfast. We know as much as you."
"And yet," Aldric rose, slow and deliberate, "I see through your silence. You have always seen her as a threat, a stain. Something to ignore—or crush. And now that she is gone, you stand… calm."
Selene huffed, indignant. "What do you want us to say, Your Majesty? That we are glad she is gone? Fine. I will not lie. She has always acted as if she is above us, as if royalty runs through her veins instead of dirt. But we did not touch her."
"And you, Virelda?" Aldric's gaze shifted, colder than ever. "Nothing to say?"
She lifted her eyes to him, steady. "I do not care enough about the girl to be involved in whatever this is."
The words hung in the air like poison.
Aldric stepped down from the throne. He stopped before them both.
"If harm comes to her," he said, his voice low, chilled, "and if I find even a trace tied to either of you… I will not show mercy."
A long pause.
Then, with a wave of his hand, he dismissed them.
But the weight of his words followed like shadows. Selene's confidence cracked as she turned to leave. Virelda's mask never wavered—but her silence now felt colder.
-
The sun rose in trembling gold over Velmora, but it brought no warmth, only dread. The palace was no longer still—it pulsed with tension, with the hurried scuffle of boots across marble, the rustling of silks, and the whispers that grew louder with each passing hour.
Aurora was still missing.
The search had turned desperate.
Aldric had not returned to his private chamber that morning. He stood on the high balcony, watching the palace grounds, a storm carved into his brow. His jaw was locked so tightly it ached, yet his eyes stayed keen, sweeping across guards, shadows, corners—any sign, any hint that could speak of Aurora's sudden absence.
Beneath him, the palace guards scattered in calculated urgency. A handful were dispatched into the village, cloaked in plain garments to inquire discreetly. They knocked on cottage doors, lingered in marketplaces, and questioned vendors and bakers under the guise of routine inspection—but nobody had seen a white-haired girl pass. No cart carried her. No gossip whispered of her. Nothing.
It was as if she had vanished into smoke.
Back in the palace, the servants were visibly strained. Her maids were the most shaken. Their eyes red with sleepless panic, voices hoarse from calling her name in every corridor and crevice.
"She could not have gone far," Lira whispered for the hundredth time, pacing the floor of Aurora's chambers, wringing her hands.
"She never leaves the palace," Faye added, her voice breaking. "She barely speaks to anyone—how would she know where to go?"
Lira sat on the edge of the untouched bed, head buried in her palms. "What if… what if someone took her?" Her whisper sent chills into the other girls.
But what frightened them even more—what sat like ice on their shoulders—was the looming shadow of punishment. Not just dismissal. Not just demotion. Royal wrath.
If Aurora remained unfound… they would be held responsible.
Elsewhere in the palace, Queen Selene curled on her velvet chaise, robe trailing to the floor. The fire in her hearth crackled, but her skin was cold.
Aldric's voice haunted her still.
The sharpness in it. The anger. The fear. All for Aurora.
Would he have searched like this if she were the one missing? Would he dispatch guards into the village, question his own wives, scour the land?
Or would he even notice?
Her hand trembled as she reached for her wine. She could not hold the cup steady. The jealousy burned more than the drink ever could.
Queen Virelda stood still in her dimly lit chamber, staring at her own reflection. She had hidden her reaction well in the courtroom. Her face had been composed, her voice measured—but now, in solitude, her fingers shook faintly as she fastened her robe.
She heard Aldric's voice again. The way he spoke of Aurora. The fire in his gaze. That was not duty. That was emotion.
He had never looked at her that way. Never raised his voice for her. Never summoned such rage, such desperation. And now, he had. For that girl. The girl who was nothing.
Virelda sank into her chair, the quiet of her chamber no longer comforting—but suffocating.
And yet… despite all efforts, the truth remained unchanged.
Aurora remains missing.