PROLOGUE






The forest of Seluna was never silent neither by day nor by night especially now that spring had arrived. Violets, bellflowers, bluebells, lobelia, and gardenia bloomed throughout the woods in shades of blue, purple, and soft pink. The feathery foliage of the trees mirrored the colors of the blossoms. In daylight, the forest’s hues were subdued, but at night, they exploded into a breathtaking display especially when the moonlight shimmered upon the sacred lake at its heart.

Each night, in accordance with tradition, the nymphs gathered by the lake to sing and dance in psalms honoring the gods. They praised the deities for the food, the water, the beautiful forest they called home, and for the future generations of daughters to come. For that was their nature nymphs bore only daughters and chose to mate with men solely when they wished to continue their race’s bloodline. Though the outside world might perceive them as fragile or objectify them as creatures of desire, they were far more than that. They were a sisterhood. They lived as family, bound not by blood but by an unbreakable bond. They shared meals, bathed in the lake, and prayed side by side, cherishing a life of unity and tradition.

Among them was Sarah, still young, not yet fully an adult, but with a wisdom beyond her sixteen years especially when it came to knowing which fruits to pick from the trees. Standing on a small step, she carefully examined an apple for any signs of rot or insects. To her relief, it was flawless, its red skin unmarred by even the slightest blemish.

“I found another!” she exclaimed, a smile lighting up her face as she dropped the fruit into her woven basket. Not far from her, her sisters, Thoralia and Iliana, were also picking fruits.

“It had better not be rotten,” Iliana teased playfully, earning a soft laugh from Sarah.

“Don’t worry I haven’t seen a single rotten apple around here. You know what they say: if there’s no spoiled fruit, it means the gods have blessed us.”

Lifting the skirt of her pure white dress to avoid tripping, she carefully climbed down. As soon as her feet touched the ground, Thoralia rushed over and gave her cheeks a firm squeeze.

“You’re so cute, Sarah, I swear!” she giggled.

Sarah groaned, half in protest and half in affection. “Thoralia…” she whined, though she knew her complaints would be ignored. No matter how much she insisted it hurt, Thoralia never listened. She pinched Sarah’s cheeks as if she were a child rather than the young woman she was growing into. Still, there were times she missed her childhood perhaps this was one of them.

Once Thoralia relented, Iliana approached, picking up one of the filled baskets. “Come on, we must return to the lake. The others might be waiting, and if we’re late, Caleena will scold us.”

Sarah chuckled. “Oh, come now, you know she loves us too much to do that.”

Caleena, the High Priestess of the Nymphs, was an elven nymph whose age stretched far beyond what Sarah could comprehend, yet she remained forever youthful in appearance. Sarah imagined her standing by the lake, her dress shimmering like the night sky, the moonlight dancing upon her dark skin. With blue like light night sky eyes and long black curls cascading almost to the ground, Caleena was a figure of grace and wisdom. To Sarah, she was more than a leader,she was the mother she never had, for Sarah’s own mother had died giving birth to her.

“I still have some fruits to pick,” Sarah said, smiling at her sisters. “Tell Caleena I’ll be back before dinner.”

Thoralia and Iliana exchanged knowing glances before Thoralia smirked. “Is it a boy? Is that why you’re not coming yet?”

Sarah’s cheeks burned. “No, no it’s not a boy!”

Her flustered response only made them laugh. Of course, she had no secret lover,she simply hadn’t told them about the injured fox she had found earlier. People often said foxes were omens of misfortune, so she had kept it to herself. Chuckling, her sisters waved as they departed, their white dresses fluttering with each step.

“Just don’t be late,” Thoralia called over her shoulder before disappearing into the trees with Iliana.

Sarah picked up her own basket and made her way toward the far side of the forest. The air was cool against her bare arms, but the sleeveless dress she wore made the chill feel refreshing rather than uncomfortable. Soon, she reached the hollow of an ancient tree where she had left the injured fox earlier. The creature remained curled within the space, still frightened.

“Hey, little one…” Sarah murmured gently, kneeling beside it. “I won’t hurt you. I just came to check on you and leave some food.”

The fox whimpered, pain evident in its soft sounds. Its wound, strange and unnatural, still troubled Sarah. The veins around it glowed with an eerie purple hue, and the blood looked unlike any injury she had seen before. She would need to ask Caleena about it later. Carefully, she unwrapped the bloodied cloth she had used to bandage the fox’s leg.

“Shh, easy, easy…” she whispered, stroking its soft fur before replacing the bandage with a fresh one. “They're all done.”

Reaching into her basket, she pulled out an apple and placed it beside the fox. “I know you prefer rabbits, but this will do for now.”

She didn’t expect the fox to trust her yet, but to her surprise, it inched forward, sniffing the fruit before nibbling tentatively. Sarah smiled, admiring the creature’s beauty—its white fur and striking blue eyes held an almost mystical quality, like a piece of the moon had descended into the forest.

When the fox finished, it turned and limped deeper into the hollow. Sarah frowned. “You’re not supposed to walk yet,” she scolded softly. The fox tilted its head, watching her, almost as if inviting her to follow. She hesitated, then crawled into the space, laughing as the creature nuzzled against her.

“They say foxes are cunning,” she mused, stroking its head. “But you seem so innocent…”

Yawning, exhaustion from the day’s work crept over her. “I’m just going to rest here for a bit,” she murmured, laying her head on her arm. The soft rustling of the trees and the gentle whisper of the wind lulled her into a peaceful slumber.

✧

She slowly opened her eyes, pushing herself up from where she had been sitting, only to realize that the fox had vanished. Where had it gone? It was still injured; it shouldn’t have been able to walk. As she raised her hand to glimpse the night sky, a sudden jolt of realization struck her she was late.

“Oh no…” she murmured, hastily brushing the dirt from her white dress. Grabbing the basket of fruits, she quickly tied up the lower part of her dress to run more freely. They were bound to scold her for her tardiness. Had she slept too long? Her sisters were probably waiting. How long had it been?

She ran, leaping over tangled tree roots to avoid tripping, her mind scrambling for an excuse. Perhaps she could claim she had been searching for a rare lotto fruit but she doubted they would believe such a tale. Admitting she had fallen asleep would only add to her embarrassment. No, she resolved to tell them the truth about the fox. There was no shame in that or so she hoped. Gods forbid they assume she had been distracted by some fleeting courtship. That would be even more humiliating.

Exhaustion eventually forced her to slow to a walk, and she comforted herself with the thought of quenching her thirst from the cool waters of the lake. At last, she reached it, though its view was partly veiled by thick bushes and overhanging branches. She paused to rehearse her excuse:

“Hey… Caleena… um… I’m sorry I was late… I was just, you know… taking care of a fox, and suddenly, it was the perfect time to sleep and…” She sighed, uncertain whether to continue or simply confess outright. Taking a deep breath, she tightened her grip on the basket, pushed aside the branches, and steeled herself for the inevitable scolding.

“Hey… I’m sorry that I’m—”

Her voice faltered. The basket slipped from her grasp, tumbling to the ground. Her eyes widened in horror, and her entire body began trembling.

Blood streaked across the grass, splattered on the trees. So much blood.

A sharp, sickening dread coiled around her heart. Whose blood was this? She had never seen anything so ghastly before. Fear and anxiety surged through her as she took a tentative step forward. Her sisters her sisters were supposed to be here.

As she neared the lake, the full scale of the horror became clear. Her heart pounded as her gaze swept across the scene, unwilling yet unable to look away.

Iliana was pinned against a tree, her back pressed against the bark by a dagger lodged deep in her chest. A stone rested in her lifeless grip, as though she had died still ready to fight. Her wide brown eyes, once so full of warmth, were frozen in shock. Her golden hair, stained crimson, clung to her bloodied face.

Nearby, Melanie lay sprawled on the ground, her light pink hair veiling part of her face. An arrow jutted from the back of her skull. She still clutched the remains of what had once been a fruit salad now a grotesque mixture of red and pulped fruit pooling around her lifeless fingers.

The horror only deepened as her gaze shifted toward the lake. The water, once pristine and clear, was now marred with streaks of crimson. And floating amidst the bloodied ripples—

Thoralia.

Her body was severed in half, long brown hair drifting weightlessly as the lake carried pieces of her away. A strangled gasp escaped her lips as she fell to her knees, her trembling hands clawing at the dirt. She wanted to scream—to wake from this nightmare—but no sound came. Her breath hitched, her chest tightened, and then—

A scream ripped through the night, raw and agonizing, shattering the stillness like a blade against glass. Tears streamed down her face as she clutched her head, shaking violently. “No, no, no… this can’t be happening. Why? Why would this happen? Why to my sisters?”

Her voice cracked with despair. She slapped her own face once, hoping—praying—that this was a twisted dream. Then again. And again. But nothing changed. The horror remained. The truth was unshakable.

Her mind raced, desperate to find any shred of hope. Caleena. She hadn’t seen Caleena’s body. Perhaps—perhaps she had survived? Maybe—

Her fragile hope shattered the moment she spotted a lone arm. The wooden bracelets were unmistakable.

Caleena was gone too.

A strangled sob tore from her throat. Thoralia, Iliana, Melanie, Caleena—her sisters, her family—

Dead.

And she was the only one left.

A sickening wave of guilt crashed over her, suffocating and unrelenting. She should have been with them. She should have fought beside them, shared their fate. What right did she have to survive when they had all been slaughtered?

“Why?” she screamed to the heavens, hands clenched into fists. “Why did this happen? Why did they have to suffer? Why was I spared?”

The wind whispered through the trees, rustling broken branches and carrying the echoes of her grief across the blood-stained clearing. The stars above, once warm beacons of light, now felt cold and indifferent, their distant glow an unbearable contrast to the carnage below. Each drop of rain that began to fall mingled with her tears, as if the very sky wept alongside her.

Staggering forward, she felt the weight of the moment crush her from all sides. The air smelled thick of iron and decay, seeping into her lungs with every gasping breath. She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, as if trying to hold together the pieces of her breaking heart.

In the distance, the soft murmur of a song—one they had once sung together by the lake—reached her ears. But it was distorted now, hollow and cruel, a twisted echo of the life that had been stolen from her. Her fingers curled into the damp earth beneath her, searching for something—anything—to anchor her, but there was nothing. Only pain. Only loss.

Time lost all meaning as she remained there, caught in an endless cycle of sorrow. Had they suffered in their final moments? Had they been afraid? Had they called out for her? The questions clawed at her mind, each one a fresh wound.

And so, beneath the mournful gaze of the night sky, she wept. She wept for the love they had shared, for the warmth now forever lost. She wept for the stolen laughter, the voices silenced too soon. And in that final, heart-wrenching moment—

She wept and wept, until the night itself seemed to grieve with her.