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I never got the chance to learn more before my world shattered. Now, the only magic left in this place gathers as dust.

At last, I turn reluctantly toward the stairs. Each creaking step protests my weight as I climb upward. The smell of smoke still lingers faintly in the charred walls after all this time.

I pass the room that had once been my parents’, unable to look within. My small bedroom awaits at the end of the hall. The door hangs crookedly off one hinge, and I duck underneath it into the shadows. A crude wooden bedframe and stool sit untouched, the mattress nothing but rags. My feet stir up swirls of dust on the floorboards.

Kneeling down, I run my hand over the whorls and knots in the aged oak floor, seeking the loose board. There. I pry it up gently, as I’ve done so many times before, to reveal the small hollowspace underneath, the one secret place the king’s men did not discover that horrific night.

Nestled inside lies a cloth doll with a smiling painted face and yarn hair—the last remnant of my lost childhood. I lift it carefully, a bittersweet smile touching my lips.

“Hello again, Nettle,” I murmur. “I’m home.”

Clutching the doll close, I move to sit on the edge of the bed. The ancient ropes creak in protest beneath my weight. Looking around at these ruined walls, I can almost see the shy village girl I once was, playing contently with her homemade toy.

Nettle was my confidante, the keeper of all my young secrets and dreams. I told her of my desire to become a great witch like my mother one day. I described the tall, handsome stranger I imagined would come sweep me off my feet when I was older.

The innocence of those fantasies now pains my heart. I know too well the cruelty the real world holds.

I was eight years old when the soldiers came. Like monsters from a nightmare, they stormed our remote cottage as we slept, acting on the king’s paranoid fears of witches. My mother’s magic could not save her or my father in the end. Her wounds were too much.

In my terror, I hid here in this secret hollow, clutching Nettle to muffle my whimpering. The horrors I heard that night haunt me still. I lost everything—my family, my home… My entire world burned down around me.

Somehow, I survived. The fact that I couldn’t save her, or any of them, still haunts me. I would never place that kind of pressure on a child, yet it’s hard not to place it on myself.

Over the years, I scraped by on the fringes of society, raised by family that wasn't my own, teaching myself what magic I could, and all the while my hate for the royals festered.

When I came of age, I returned to the capital city under a disguise to infiltrate the castle. I sought to end the king’s bloodline and gain vengeance for all that was taken from me. My intricate plans ultimately failed. The king still lives still, rotting in his tower.

And so, I retreated back into exile, choosing isolation over risking more loss. This cottage, both a refuge and a reminder of my past.

Looking around its ruined shell now, I see clearly how I’ve allowed the traumas of my past to consume too much of my present. I’ve keptmy true self locked away as securely as I once hid from the king’s men in this secret hollow.

Perhaps after all these years, it is time to let in some light, push open that crooked door, and sweep aside the cobwebs in my heart. I cannot change the tragedy that befell my loved ones, but I can still shape what future remains for me.

I tuck Nettle back into her hiding place, replace the floorboard, and stand with new resolve. The ghosts of this cottage will always haunt me, but they need not rule me. I will find a way to honor my family’s memory through more than bitterness.

Stepping back out into the winter air, I feel as though a weight has lifted from my shoulders. The cold breeze no longer bites but refreshes.

I call softly for Luna, knowing my faithful friend is likely off frolicking in the woods.

As I wait, movement catches my eye. A dark figure strides toward the cottage, the morning sun glinting off silvery hair. My breath catches. Prince Draven.

I brace myself as the past collides with the present. After what we shared, things will never be the same. For either of us.

Luna suddenly darts between my legs, a blur of white fur. Before I can react, she hides behind me, peering out anxiously. I brace myself as I see Prince Draven emerging from the tree line.

He strides toward us with purpose, his pace unfaltering even as his silver eyes meet my stern gaze. I curse myself for being so distracted by the memories of this place that I failed to notice his approach through our persistent bond. I should have been more alert.

Drawing myself up, I fix the prince with a fierce look as he nears me. “You should not have come here, Prince,” I state firmly, hoping the tremor in my heart does not reach my voice.

Draven halts before me, tall and imposing in his dark tunic and riding boots, but I stand my ground. I cannot allow him to further entangle our fates against my will. He has no right to invade this private haven, no matter the pull between us.

“Yet here I am,” he replies, undeterred as always. His striking eyes trail over the ruined cottage behind me.

I tense, cursing the vulnerability of this moment. I do not wish to lay my painful past bare, especially to one who represents all I have lost.

Luna whimpers softly, and I reach a comforting hand down to rest on her back, bolstering my resolve. Draven may be my fated mate, but I will determine the course of my future, even if it means shutting him out, as much as the thought secretly pains me.

“Leave.”