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CHAPTER1

My lungs seized with each ragged breath, acid burning through my chest as I fled deeper into the cursed forest.The darkness swallowed me, branches tearing at my cloak, my hair, my skin… anything they could grab to slow me down.Behind me, the crimson glow of my stepmother's tracking spell pulsed through the trees, her magic searching, hunting, stretching toward me like bloody fingers intent on dragging me back to the altar she'd prepared for tomorrow's sacrifice.

I stumbled over an exposed root, caught myself against a rough bark trunk.My palms scraped raw, blood warming my frozen fingers for a cruel instant before the night air stole that heat too.The wind sliced through my clothes, howling between the ancient pines like the voices of those who'd entered these woods before and never returned.

"Keep moving," I hissed to myself, the words burning my throat."She's going to kill me if I don't."

Tomorrow I turned twenty-five, the age when my bloodline's magic fully matured, when my heart would reach its perfect potency.The precise moment my stepmother had been cultivating me for since she murdered my father.I'd overheard her speaking to her coven sister last night, describing exactly how she would carve my still-beating heart from my chest and consume it to gain my family's power and immortality.

The Winterbourne legacy.My curse.

I clutched the worn strap of my satchel tighter, feeling the outline of my knife press against my ribs.A pathetic defense compared to her sorcery, but I hadn't fled without a plan.I didn't need to win… I just needed to disappear.The legends about these woods kept even the most desperate villagers from entering.Dark trees.Darker beasts.And the "dwarves" who only emerged at night.

Dwarves.The whispered euphemism made me want to laugh, hysteria bubbling in my throat.Village mothers scared their children with tales of stunted, twisted creatures who stole misbehaving children.But the older stories, the ones hidden in my father's forbidden books, spoke different… men cursed to become beasts, of ancient magic older than my stepmother's coven.

Even if they were dangerous man-killers, I'd rather they kill me than my step-mother.Though with how dark it was in the forest, I probably wouldn't see my killer.

I forced my legs to keep moving, though each step sent fire shooting up my calves.The underbrush grew thicker, thorns catching on my leggings, tearing the fabric and the skin beneath.Each breath came shorter now, black spots dancing at the edges of my vision.How far had I run?Miles, surely, but the forest stretched endlessly.

My boot caught on something—another root, a stone—and this time I couldn't catch myself.I tumbled forward, the world spinning in a blur of darkness and pain.My shoulder slammed into hard ground, and I skidded down a slight incline, pine needles and mud filling my mouth, my nose.The copper taste of blood coated my tongue.

I lay there, face pressed into the damp earth, pain throbbing through every inch of me.Get up.Get up now.

When I forced my head up, I saw it… a structure, half-hidden by the trees ahead.An enormous cabin, built from logs thicker than my body, its roof sagging under the weight of moss and time.The forest was actively reclaiming it, vines crawling up the walls, windows clouded with grime and cobwebs.

Hope and dread tangled in my chest.Shelter meant rest, but occupants meant danger.The ache that had been slowly forming in the back of my skull was now raging.

I dragged myself toward it, fingernails filling with dirt as I clawed my way up the small rise.My vision blurred, exhaustion dragging at me like physical weights.I hadn't slept in two days, planning my escape, gathering supplies.

The cabin's porch steps groaned beneath my weight.I pressed my ear against the weathered door, listening for movement inside.Nothing.Just the wind and my own frantic heartbeat.With trembling hands, I pushed against the wood.The hinges shrieked in protest, metal grinding against metal like they hadn't moved in decades.

Air rushed out to meet me, carrying the scent of… a well lived-in home.I'd expected stale air with dust, but that wasn't what I smelled at all.I slipped inside, easing the door closed behind me.Darkness.Complete, suffocating darkness.I blinked rapidly, willing my eyes to adjust.

Slowly, the interior revealed itself: massive furnishings built for bodies larger than mine.An oversized table with four chairs.A stone hearth big enough to roast a deer whole.Dust-covered shelves lined the walls, filled with basic amenities and tools… and lots of cobwebs.Somehow, this place both seemed lived in and abandoned at the same time.

My legs finally surrendered.I collapsed onto the warped floorboards, my cheek pressed against wood that smelled of pine sap and time.The knife in my satchel dug into my side, but I couldn't summon the strength to move.Exhaustion dragged me under like quicksand.

The silence wrapped around me, thick and oppressive.Not the silence of emptiness—the silence of waiting.My heartbeat slowed, but each pulse echoed louder in my ears.Something felt wrong.Too still.As if the forest itself had stopped breathing.

A snapping branch outside jerked me back from the edge of unconsciousness.My muscles tensed, but I couldn't move, pinned by fatigue and terror.

Then I heard it, a growl.Not the yip of a fox or the distant howl of a wolf, but something deeper, something that vibrated through the floorboards and into my bones.Primal.Ancient.Hungry.

Another growl answered from a different direction.Then a third.

I was surrounded.

My fingers twitched toward my knife, but the movement felt impossibly slow, like moving through honey.What good would steel do against whatever waited outside?The village stories painted these creatures as something beyond natural… something magic had twisted.

A shadow passed one grimy window, massive and hulking.Not human-shaped, too large, too fluid in its movements.A second shadow joined it, then a third.They circled the cabin with deliberate, predatory grace.

The wind died completely.The forest held its breath.My heart hammered so violently I thought it might burst through my ribs of its own accord… save my stepmother the trouble.

The porch creaked beneath a heavy weight.Something sniffed at the door's edge… a deep, ragged inhale that seemed to pull at the very air in my lungs.I closed my eyes, terror transforming into an icy calm.So this was how I died.Not on my stepmother's altar, but in the belly of forest monsters.At least she couldn't claim my heart… or my legacy.

The door hinges protested again, a long, drawn-out wail of metal.Cold air rushed in, carrying scents of pine, earth, blood, and something wild… musk, fur, and power.Hot breath huffed just beyond the threshold, close enough that I could feel its warmth against my exposed neck.

I forced my eyes open.