“I’m faster than you…”

Serielle still had a young face—she looked no more than seventeen in human years.

Her messy golden hair blocked her view as she ran barefoot through the underbrush.

The laughter of her friends repeated around her, the two young fairies flying between the trees like flashes of light.

“Serielle, you’re too slow!” Ellora teased.

“I’m not slow. You two are cheating!” Serielle replied immediately.

Even though she was the youngest Fae in her family, and the only female, Serielle enjoyed spending time with little fairies.

Her brothers forbade her; they were scared she would be seen by humans.

But she didn’t care. And besides, it was her season to bloom.

“Come on! Did you forget your wings, Serielle?”

Serielle was breathless but full of laughter as she chased after them.

“We’re not cheating!” Neryss, the taller of the two, cried out to her.

But then—

A strange scent on the wind reached her nose.

Blood?

Serielle slowed down, her heart suddenly pounding faster for a different reason.

“Hey, do you smell that?” she asked, glancing at her friends.

Ellora’s cheerful smile faded. “Human blood.”

Nerys wrinkled her nose. “None of our business. Come on, Serielle, let’s go.”

But she wasn’t listening anymore.

Something pulled her forward, deeper into the thick berry bushes. And then she saw it.

A boy, not much older than her, was unconscious under a wild bush.

His black hair was matted with sweat and dirt; his face looked too pale.

A hunter’s arrow was lodged in his chest above his heart.

Blood stained the fabric of his robe, spreading slowly and darkly.

Serielle’s eyes flew to his forehead.

“We have to help him!” She knelt beside him, reaching out a hand.

Nerys grabbed her wrist. “Serielle, don’t. He’s human.”

“And he’s dying.”

Ellora and Nerys exchanged glances. Helping humans was not recommended in the Fae world.

It made their presence known. But Serielle had never cared much about rules.

“All right,” Nerys sighed, stepping back. “Do what you want. But if you get into trouble, we had nothing to do with it.”

Serielle barely heard her.

She pressed her hand over the boy’s wound, then closed her eyes.

Magic bloomed under her palm—warm and golden, like the first breath of spring.

The wound slowly closed; the arrow disappeared as if it had never been there.

The boy moved…

There was a long intake of breath, then his eyes opened.

They were so deep and blue. Too striking.

Serielle barely had time to react before he pushed himself up, wild and confused.

“Who…?” His voice was rough with pain.

“Shhh,” she soothed, pressing her hand to his shoulder. “You’re hurt, but you’re safe now.”

“You…Who are you?”

Serielle smiled, tilting her head. “No one important.”

He stared at her for a moment, then looked down at his chest.

The blood was still there, but the wound was gone. His brow furrowed. “How…?”

“Magic,” she said simply.

His lips parted, but no words came out. She could see disbelief in his eyes.

Then, remembering something, he sat up straighter. “I have to go back. My father…”

Serielle stood up also, shaking out her dress.

“You’ll need a horse, then.”

He blinked at her. “I don’t have one.”

“Yes, your horse ran away. But…wait—”

She whistled, and moments later, a black stallion trotted up to her. The boy’s eyes blinked three times.

“Take him,” she said. “He’ll carry you home.”

He hesitated. “And…you? How will you get him back?”

Serielle only smiled. “He knows his way.”

The boy looked at her again, as if trying to memorize her face. Then, finally, he swung onto the horse’s back.

“Wait.”

He paused, gripping the reins.

“Your name,” she said. “What is it?”

A slow smile touched his lips. “Raphael. Raphael Arden.”

She hadn’t known then.

Hadn’t known that this human boy would one day become the Duke of Ardenhyll.

Hadn’t known that she would love him.

Hadn’t known that, years later, he would die in her arms.

Fifteen Years Later

Under a starlit sky, in an abandoned chapel shrouded in closely growing trees, Serielle was standing beside Raphael Arden, Duke of Ardenhyll.

Candlelight was reflecting his face in her deep blue eyes…There was a warmth that softened the facets of his face, which sometimes seemed strict when he was carrying out his duty in the House of Lords.

“Soon, you will truly be mine,” Raphael murmured, his fingers touching hers gently.

“Nothing will ever be able to separate us again.”

Serielle, with her golden hair flowing gently down to her waist, felt her heart race like a mad horse at Raphael’s words.

Today was a special day for both of them… a special day to wear a white silk dress.

A fabric woven from her world—the world of Fae…

This marriage was disapproved of by everyone…It was an act that went against the ancient laws that forbade the union of Fae and humans.

However, in the over-three-hundred years of her life, she had never felt this certain.

Soon, their marriage vows would bind them in both worlds, and she didn’t care about the consequences anymore.

However, the high priest had not yet arrived.

Serielle glanced at the small door at the back of the chapel, where the priest was supposed to be.

Wasn’t his house at the back of this chapel? she thought to herself.

It had been too long…

A lot of pressure filled her chest, making it harder to breathe.

“He should be here by now.” Her voice had an anxious tone as she turned to Raphael.

He raised her hand to his lips, giving her knuckles a kiss.

“Don’t worry, little fairy. Maybe he’s just asleep. I’ll go get him if that will ease your worries.”

Serielle breathed out, trying to calm down.

“If so, I suppose you’ll have to get him, my lord.”

Raphael’s forehead wrinkled. “Don’t call me that,” he said softly. “We will be husband and wife. Please call me by name. You used to call me Raf.”

Serielle smiled. “All right, Raf. Please, get the priest, will you?”

The Duke of Ardenhyll smiled back and nodded.

But the moment Serielle let go of his hand, the chapel door opened with a loud and crackling sound.

The candles died loudly as the night air entered.

“Stop this madness!”

“Serielle, how dare you?!”

“Come back to us, sister…”

Serielle’s eyes widened when she saw three men standing near the doorway.

No, no, no…

Serielle could instantly recognize them, even though the dark door frame hid their faces.

“No…” she whimpered. Her legs felt weak, but she struggled to stand up.

Lioran. Aurenfell. Isendar.

Serielle’s breath caught in her throat. These were her older brothers.

Their energy was silent but suffocating—enough to make her feel like she was underwater, drowning…

How could they know her plans?

Lioran stepped forward first.

His emerald-green hair shifted dramatically; golden eyes glared at her with anger.

“Serielle.” It sounded as sharp as a knife. “You have betrayed your kind.”

Raphael was in front of her instantly, one hand reaching for his sword. “Who are you?”

Aurenfell scoffed.

He pushed his red, wildfire-like hair around his face as he stared at the duke.

“The one who will see justice served.”

Raphael smiled mockingly. “Tell me which of my enemies sent you. I’m not afraid to fight cowards.”

Serielle gripped Raphael’s arm. “Raf, don’t—”

But it was too late…

Isendar moved first. Winter shadows wrapped around his dark silver hair and ice-blue eyes.

Before Raphael could draw his sword, the winter Fae caught his wrist, and an invisible force slammed Raphael into the altar.

“Stop it!” Serielle screamed.

“Tsk.”

“No!” She ran towards him, but Lioran caught her wrist in a strong grip.

“You know the law, sis.” He sounded flat, expressionless. “As the daughter of the King of the Fae, you know what must be done.”

She thrashed, desperate. “Please, I beg you—”

But Aurenfell had already plunged his sword into Raphael’s chest.

The world slowed down.

“What—” Raphael gasped, crimson liquid filling his mouth.

His blue eyes widened in shock, slowly as blood soaked his shirt.

His lips parted, but no words came out, only a strangled sound as he collapsed onto the altar.

“Raphael!!!” Serielle’s own screams broke into sobs.

Then the blade was at her throat.

She barely had time to see Lioran’s face—cold and resigned—before a sharp pain tore through her neck.

“Serielle, rest…” he murmured, pushing the sword deeper.

Lioran’s eyes lowered, and his lips frowned, but Serielle didn’t see this.

The warmth of her blood spilled onto her skin. Her body slumped beside Raphael.

Darkness started surrounding her.

But she would not let this be the end.

With the last energy of her fading magic, she reached into herself, grasping the raw power of Spring.

Time. She could change time.

She forced everything she had into the magic, her soul unraveling as the world around her cracked and bled.

“Please…please…just this one time…Spring, take me back…Life…let me save him…”

A whisper crossed her lips before she was pulled into the abyss.

“Raf…”

Maybe she was dreaming…Maybe this was just a nightmare. But eventually, Serielle woke up…

Her body felt different. Lighter, but empty.

There was this scent of roses and damp earth.

She reached up, her fingers trembling as they ran through her hair. Her hair was still as long and silky as ever.

Was it still shining golden?

“Raphael…” Serielle looked at her right hand and saw no scar around her index finger.

It worked!

She had turned back time with all her power.