Art by RipleyGrimme
The room was thick with shadows, lit only by the soft glow of a crystal ball resting on a pedestal draped in midnight-blue velvet. The air smelled faintly of old parchment, herbs, and something metallic. In the stillness, the hooded figure hovered a hand over the swirling orb, long fingers dancing just above its shimmering surface. Inside, the misty colours twisted and danced before settling, revealing a faint image.
A girl.
She moved with purpose, her cloak tugged close around her as she crept out the back entrance of an old tavern. The vision sharpened. Jihye moved quickly but quietly, boots crunching softly on the gravel path as she made her way to the stables. She paused there, scanning the row of horses in the dim light of early dawn. Her eyes, sharp and deliberate, moved from flank to flank, weighing strength against temperament. Finally, she made her choice: something sturdy and unbothered by her sudden presence.
She untied the reins with a practised hand, swung effortlessly onto the horse’s back, and nudged it forward with a gentle squeeze of her ankles. The horse obeyed, its hooves a soft rhythm on the dirt track leading out of town. The sky behind her blushed with the first hint of sunrise.
The figure watching her raised his hand, fingers halting the vision. His voice, low and controlled, sliced through the silence.
“Caleb!”
Moments later, a young man burst into the doorway, out of breath. “Yes, sir?”
The hooded figure turned slowly, the light of the orb fading beneath his palm. “Prepare my things,” he said. “We’re going to the forest.”
Caleb blinked. “The forest, sir?”
The figure merely tilted his head in affirmation, waiting. Caleb didn’t dare ask more. “Of course, sir,” he stammered before vanishing down the corridor with hurried footsteps.
The sorcerer turned back to the orb and covered it completely with a dark cloth. “A curiosity,” he murmured under his breath, his voice laced with fascination. “Or perhaps… destiny.”
Jihye trotted along the ancient trail, the trees on either side reaching like old guardians, gnarled and watching. She had chosen this path for a reason. Long forgotten by travellers, the route wound through thickets and gullies, barely a road at all in some places. Once, as a child, she had run these tracks barefoot, setting traps with her friends and hauling their prizes to market.
Now, she rode with different intentions.
The horse’s breathing grew heavy, and Jihye finally dismounted. She pressed a stick into the earth and looped the reins over it, letting the animal graze. She glanced at the rope from her pack, grateful she’d remembered that much. She hadn’t dared grab a saddle. No time.
As her muscles relaxed, regret crept in—the ache of bareback riding wasn’t something easily ignored. She stretched out, the shifting of her form instinctive. Her fox ears emerged for a moment, twitching in irritation, before she let them melt back into her human guise. Her nine tails flicked once before disappearing.
Her fingers worked efficiently, striking a flint and building a small fire from dry twigs and moss. A ring of stone held the flames close. She set a small tin pot over the growing heat and cleared a patch of mossy ground to sit on. As the fire took hold, she picked up her empty bottles and followed the gentle sound of running water deeper into the woods.
The brook was just as she remembered—narrow, cold, and crystal clear. She crouched, dipping one bottle after another, listening to the bubbling rhythm. As she leaned closer, something flickered in the water. Her body tensed.
Flash.
Her ears snapped back into place, every hair standing on end. She spun around.
Nothing.
Then, a whisper floated on the breeze. Barely audible.
“I am coming…”
Jihye’s heart skipped. Her eyes darted left and right, scanning the brush. The words seemed to echo from nowhere—and everywhere. Her breath hitched, the sounds of the forest suddenly too loud. But she shook her head sharply, squeezing her eyes shut.
“No,” she muttered to herself. “No sleep. No food. I’m seeing things.”
She forced her body to move, fast and focused, filling the last bottle and hurrying back to the fire. The horse lifted its head at her return but made no sound. She poured water into a shallow dish for it and returned the rest to her pot. It began to boil as she sat cross-legged, watching the flames. Her thoughts circled restlessly.
Was she truly being followed, or was it just guilt and fear, both eager storytellers?
Above, a buzzard circled high in the sky, wings catching the sun’s first rays. It turned abruptly, banking hard, then glided away in a different direction, as if it suddenly had somewhere it needed to be.
Back in the forest clearing near the edge of the mountains, Caleb stood uncertainly behind the sorcerer, watching him sit in the dirt. The sorcerer’s hands rested on his knees, eyes open but unseeing. The wind toyed with the edges of his cloak, revealing a flash of intricate leather armour beneath. The sorcerer’s face was calm, unnervingly so. His bright blue eyes seemed to glow faintly in the shadows.
Then, without warning, he blinked.
Caleb jumped, instinctively taking a step back. The sorcerer looked toward the trees.
“She is here, Caleb,” he said softly.
Caleb’s jaw dropped. “Her? You mean—she’s here? In this forest?” His words stumbled over each other.
The sorcerer didn’t respond right away. He stood, brushing soil from his cloak, his movements deliberate and strangely regal.
Caleb barely had time to grab the pack he’d set aside before the sorcerer was already walking, boots crunching on the leaf-littered path. His cloak moved like water behind him. Caleb jogged to catch up, questions burning in his throat but unspoken.
He knew better.
The sorcerer’s face was carved from stone, gaze locked ahead. But inside, something stirred—a memory, an instinct, a promise.