The forest was quiet—eerily so. Morning sunlight filtered through the ancient canopy like gold veins cracked across the sky. Birds dared not sing. Squirrels fled long before Hazel stirred.
A low groan escaped her lips as she slowly opened her eyes. Every muscle in her body screamed, her chest rising and falling with short, painful breaths. The scent of moss and blood clung to the back of her throat. Her mother's staff, scorched at the base, lay a few paces away, still glowing faintly.
"Hazel!" a voice broke through the stillness.
Lily, her loyal friend and companion, rushed to her side, eyes brimming with tears. Dirt streaked her cheeks, and her dress was torn at the hem. She looked like she hadn't slept in days. "Thank the gods, you're alive."
Hazel sat up with a wince. "How long?" she rasped.
"Six days," Lily said shakily. "You collapsed after the last witch fell. I couldn't move you. You wouldn't wake. I thought—" Her voice broke, and she clutched Hazel's hand. "I thought I'd lost you."
Hazel's heart thudded. Six days. Her breath quickened. "That's too long. Too long. I was the seal," she murmured, struggling to stand. "Emma—my sister hid too many truths. If I'm gone, they'll unravel."
Lily steadied her. "What are you talking about?"
Hazel's eyes were wild, glowing faintly with the remnants of magic. "The witches came for the staff, but they'll search for more. My death would have been a signal. My niece, Khloe... if they sense her, they'll come for her next. She's not ready."
"But you're alive now," Lily whispered. "They didn't get what they came for."
"Still," Hazel said, voice firm as she staggered forward. "We must hide her essence. Her bloodline is too potent. I need to cast the concealment spell before they scent her in the wind."
---
Back in the palace
Queen Khloe's chambers were dark, though it was barely past dusk. The windows were shut tight, yet a chilling breeze filled the room.
The young queen lay curled in bed, drenched in sweat. Her silk gown clung to her body like a second skin, and her breath came in short, ragged gasps. Her hands trembled atop the fur-lined covers.
"I feel... hot," she whispered into the darkness, "but why am I so cold?"
A single candle flickered on the table beside her. Her skin, pale as porcelain, looked almost translucent. She shivered violently, though her body radiated unnatural heat.
She reached for the bell rope and tugged.
Moments later, Olivia entered the room. Her eyes, already gleaming silver under the full moon, narrowed at the sight of her queen.
"Your Majesty?" she said cautiously.
Khloe turned her head slowly, the motion seemingly too much for her frail frame. "I don't understand, Olivia. Something is wrong. It feels like fire and ice are fighting in me."
Olivia's nostrils flared. Her wolf, already restless from the lunar pull, whined in her mind.
Khloe's scent had changed.
"My queen," Olivia said softly, rushing forward, "your body—your scent—" She gasped as her hand touched Khloe's arm. "You're freezing."
"No... I'm burning," Khloe whispered, eyes clouded. "Inside. Like something wants to break free."
At that moment, Maria, the palace priestess, returned from the temple. The sight of Khloe stopped her in her tracks.
"Heavens," she breathed, dropping her bag. "What happened?"
"She said she feels hot," Olivia replied, voice tight, "but her skin is ice."
Maria didn't wait. She dashed to the kitchens, returning moments later with a steaming bowl of herbs. "Drink this," she commanded.
Khloe barely managed a sip before the shivers became spasms. Her back arched, a cry leaving her lips.
Olivia took her hand. "It's okay. You're safe."
Khloe shook her head violently. "I can feel them, Olivia. The voices. The fire. The blood..."
---
Deep in the woods
Hazel, still weak, knelt before a ring of stones carved with ancestral runes. Lily helped her trace the sacred marks in the dirt.
"The spell has to reach her in time," Hazel muttered, clutching the staff. "I'm not strong enough for more than one shot."
She closed her eyes and began to chant. Ancient words, long forgotten to most, echoed through the trees.
Winds picked up. The trees groaned.
A soft golden mist rose from the earth, coiling around Hazel. She felt her life force pour into the spell. She thought of Khloe—her silver-blonde hair, her stubborn eyes, her blood that burned like two lineages colliding.
"I conceal what was never meant to be found. I veil what would destroy her."
A final surge of magic shot from Hazel's staff into the sky.
---
Back in the palace
Khloe's body jolted.
Just then, Olivia cried out and fell to her knees, claws ripping through her fingers. Her wolf was clawing to be let out.
She howled softly in pain, her eyes glowing fully now. "I can't hold it... It's the moon..."
Khloe, gasping, reached for her. "I'm afraid, Olivia. What's happening to me?"
Their power surged in tandem. Khloe's skin shimmered faintly, strange markings crawling along her arms. Olivia's breath came in snarls.
In that moment, a vase cracked. The walls trembled.
And then—
Silence.
Like a blanket of magic had descended. The markings on Khloe's skin faded. The fire within her cooled. Olivia's wolf retreated into its cage with a whimper.
The tension melted like snow under sunlight.
Khloe blinked. "What just happened?"
Olivia collapsed beside her, panting. "I... I don't know. But it's gone."
Maria stepped forward, touching Khloe's forehead. "You're... normal again. Praise the heavens."
In the woods, Hazel collapsed to the ground, her spell complete. The last of her strength gone. Lily caught her before she hit the stones.
"Did it work?" Lily whispered.
Hazel smiled faintly, eyes fluttering closed. "She's safe... for now."
---
Later that night
Khloe lay in bed, exhausted but calm. Olivia sat on the floor beside her, her head resting on the bed's edge, watching her queen sleep peacefully for the first time in weeks.
Maria whispered prayers near the door, blessing the air with protective chants.
The palace outside remained unaware of the storm that nearly broke its heart.
But far beyond the palace walls, deep in the marshlands, cloaked figures stood at the edge of a dying fire.
One of them, a witch with pitch-black eyes, tilted her head. "Did you feel it?"
Another nodded slowly. "She stirs."
"The bloodline awakens," the third murmured, voice like wind over grave soil. "Soon, the hunt begins."
---