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The Kingdom of Magic is such a beautiful place.

I wish Hadrian could come to see it with me.

Perhaps one day. The town of Elmwych where I am from is the prettiest of them all, surrounded by marshland that we travel through on small wooden boats moved by magic.

At night, our little town is illuminated by the green lanterns into which we have blown magic.

I used to love lying outside listening to the cicadas sing as I pictured the rest of the world, wondering what it must look like.

I’d always wanted to travel, even though the thought of leaving my home behind terrified me.

Now, now that I have been gone from my kingdom for so long, I yearn for its marshes, for its weeping willows and for its people.

I was once afraid to leave my land. Now I fear I shall never return.

If there is anything to return to.

Tabitha Wysteria

Mal had spent the evening dancing, the soles of her bare feet aching from hours of movement.

Her stomach was still full from the lavish feast prepared in her honour, yet she had set aside a piece of fruit—an offering to the gods she would soon leave behind.

The thought weighed heavily on her. No longer would she kneel in the familiar halls of the temple, whispering prayers into the sacred stillness.

The Kingdom of Fire had its own places of worship, but their god was not hers.

Of all the hardships awaiting her in that distant land, the absence of a place to pray would be among the hardest to bear.

Dawn loomed on the horizon, their departure only hours away.

Before they left, tradition dictated a final blessing from the High Priestess, a prayer for safe passage.

The temple was full, the air thick with murmured farewells.

Mal cast a glance at her brother Kai, who shifted impatiently, his agitation plain.

He had never had much patience for ceremony.

‘May our princess of darkness be safe,’ the High Priestess intoned, her voice a solemn whisper against the dawn as she stood at the temple’s entrance.

Mal bowed low, then ascended the worn stone steps, the shadows stretching long and knowing at her feet.

She reached the blue fire, its eternal flame flickering with an ethereal glow, and cast the fruit into its hungry depths. ‘May the shadows guide your way.’

‘May the shadows guide you,’ came the resounding chorus of voices behind her. As Mal turned, she caught the sight of them—each one pressing two fingers against their foreheads in salute, their black-clad figures solemn beneath the weight of tradition.

Mal grasped her sword and extended it towards the High Priestess, watching in quiet reverence as the woman held it over the sacred fire.

The steel darkened to a deep blue, black smoke curling around the blade like whispered incantations.

When the sword was returned to her, the heated metal stung against her palms, but she did not waver.

Instead, she gripped it tightly, bowing one final time to the gods before turning away.

Kai waited at the temple’s edge, clad in the midnight sheen of his black armour, the metal polished to a lethal gleam. The sight made her raise a brow as they strode back.

‘Aren’t you a bit overdressed?’

‘Your future husband will be meeting us today, Mal. We must all look the part.’ His gaze slid over her riding dress, unimpressed. ‘You, however, may be slightly underdressed for the occasion.’

Mal glanced down at her simple grey attire, the fabric loose, flowing, and, most importantly, practical. ‘It’s my riding dress.’

‘Too much skin. You might give the prince a heart attack.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘The slits at the sides allow me to sit properly on my wyvern, Kai.’

‘Yes, yes, but imagine his face when you arrive in a dress that barely covers you, boots caked in mud and your hair wild as the wind itself.’

Mal shrugged. ‘He can choose not to look at me.’

Kai chuckled, the sound like dark velvet. ‘Let’s hope he makes that choice. Otherwise, I might be forced to cut his eyes out myself.’

Mal elbowed him playfully, though her grin was sharp. ‘Do not harm the Fire Prince before I marry him, brother. You might end up cursing us all.’

Beyond the temple walls, in the vast open field, the wyverns waited. Mal swallowed against the fear coiling in her chest and rushed to embrace her parents, tears slipping down her cheeks at the thought of leaving them behind.

They spoke no parting words—none were needed. Their silent embrace said enough. She watched as they turned and walked away, followed by the others, until only her siblings remained.

Adjusting the weight of the sword against her back, Mal climbed onto her wyvern.

Haven would ride at the centre of their small formation for protection, while she and Kai took the lead, side by side at the front.

As she settled into place, she turned to her brother, offering him a reassuring smile, one she hoped would smooth the worry and anger written so clearly on the face she loved so dearly. It didn’t.

Behind them, Kage took his position, his expression unreadable as he let out a grunt, urging them to move.

Nyx let out a thunderous roar, the sound vibrating through Mal’s bones as the great beast rose onto its hind legs, muscles coiling in preparation for flight.

‘May the shadows guide your way!’ Kai shouted seconds before his wyvern took off into the darkness above them.

With a powerful beat of her wings, Nyx ascended, soaring higher and higher until the world below blurred into insignificance. Mal cast a lingering glance at the dark castle that had been her home since birth, her chest tightening with the weight of farewell.

The journey ahead would span an entire day without rest. Under normal circumstances, they would have made camp for the night, but the only land between them and the Kingdom of Fire was the forsaken Kingdom of Magic—a realm long abandoned, its name spoken only in hushed whispers.

None dared set foot upon its cursed soil unless forced by fate itself.

Mal had always longed to glimpse the place that had once ignited a war across the realms. Some claimed the witches still lurked there, hidden in the ruins of their fallen kingdom.

But according to Kai, who had ventured into those wastelands himself, there was nothing left but silence and dust.

Lowering herself against Nyx’s sleek back, Mal watched as the darkened expanse of her homeland—its jagged black rock and lifeless terrain—began to fade behind her.

In the distance, she could make out the bordering kingdom: the Kingdom of Ice.

She wondered what lay even further north, beyond its frozen peaks.

It was said there was nothing but endless sea.

The somber shadows of her land gradually surrendered to a world of white.

Below, she spotted a vast forest blanketed in snow, its trees standing silent and still beneath winter’s grasp.

And there, nestled in the icy expanse, lay the fabled castle.

She recalled her brother’s words—that it was sculpted from ice itself.

A myth, perhaps. But as she gazed upon the distant kingdom, she couldn’t help but wonder if the stories were true.

As Mal turned away from the Kingdom of Ice, her breath hitched at the sight before her.

The wastelands—once the fabled Kingdom of Magic—stretched endlessly beneath them, a realm of ruin and desolation.

The earth had withered into a sickly, lifeless hue, stripped of the vibrancy it had once known.

Not a single tree remained in this area of the land; all had been burnt to ash.

In the distance, skeletal remains of buildings jutted from the barren land, their structures crumbled beyond recognition.

Among them, a temple stood in eerie solitude, reduced to little more than a hollowed-out corpse of its former splendour.

A chill curled down Mal’s spine as she turned to her brother, searching his face for answers. The silent warning in his eyes was clear: look away.

She did the opposite.

Something on the horizon seized her attention—a blinding light, sharp and unnatural, forcing her to lean back in uncertainty.

It pulsed, growing in brilliance, its intensity nearly unbearable.

And then, in a sudden, violent burst, the light erupted into a searing green explosion, tearing through the sky with raw, untamed energy.

Nyx veered sharply, the blast nearly reaching them.

‘Witches!’ Kai screamed at the top of his lungs.

Mal’s eyes widened in disbelief. Could it be true?

The world had long declared the witches extinct, their kind erased from existence—yet her brother had spoken their name with unwavering certainty.

A desperate need to see for herself gripped her, but before she could move closer, another green explosion ripped through the sky.

Nyx twisted sharply to the right, narrowly avoiding the blast.

A second strike followed. The force of it sent Mal tumbling from her beast, the darkness below rushing up to meet her.

Haven’s wyvern swooped beneath her just in time.

Mal stretched out her arm, fingers straining towards her sister’s, barely brushing against them before she slammed into the beast’s tail.

She gripped it with all her strength, her heart hammering as the ground loomed ever closer.

They couldn’t risk landing under fire. She had only one option—let go before she fell from an even greater height.

The moment Haven guided her wyvern lower, Mal released her hold. A scream tore from her throat as she crashed into something solid. The impact rattled her bones, but the tangle of vines broke her fall, swallowing her into their depths.

When consciousness returned, she found herself draped across a ruin, the vines creeping over its crumbling walls like nature’s attempt to reclaim what had been lost. If she could climb to the top, perhaps someone would spot her.

She stilled.

At the edge of the dead brush, a girl stood watching.

Her curls were dark brown, a shade lighter than her skin, her clothes a patchwork of mismatched fabric hanging loosely from her frame.

Another girl emerged beside her, this one with platinum-blonde hair and striking brown skin.

Their hands, inked with ancient runes, told Mal everything she needed to know.

The symbols curled over their fingers, swirling up their arms like secrets only witches could decipher.

They both had purple eyes.

‘Allegra, move,’ the girl with hair as pale as the first breath of winter commanded, her voice a blade of ice. Yet, despite her words, her piercing purple eyes never wavered from Mal’s—watchful, unblinking, filled with something unreadable .

The other girl shook her head, lifting her hand with deliberate grace.

From her fingertips, a wisp of green smoke curled into existence.

Mal instinctively scrambled backward, her pulse quickening.

That same unnatural magic had sent her plummeting from the sky once before—she would not risk it again.

‘Her eyes, Dawn,’ Allegra whispered, her voice hushed with something between awe and dread. ‘She has witch eyes.’

The girl with platinum hair— Dawn— cocked her head to one side. Leaning forward, she observed Mal with curiosity before the roar of a wyvern made her jump back.

A flicker of something ancient passed between them, something silent yet undeniable. Then, as if the very air itself had made its decision, they turned in unison.

‘Wait!’ Mal’s cry ripped through the space between them, desperation clawing at her throat, but it was too late.

Both girls vanished, dissolving into tendrils of curling green smoke, slipping into the shadows as if they had never been there at all.

Above, Nyx’s roar split through the air, fierce and unrelenting.

Mal’s gaze shot upward. The sky was alive with chaos, green explosions bursting like violent stars against the dark expanse.

With a powerful descent, her wyvern landed atop the ruins, wings spread wide, screeching a warning to anything—or anyone—bold enough to come closer.

Wasting no time, Mal pushed herself to her feet, sprinting towards her mount. She reached Nyx just in time, swinging onto her beast’s back as they launched into the sky once more.

As soon as they ascended high enough for the others to see, they pressed onward, leaving the dying embers of green fire—and the mystery of their attackers—far behind.