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The world tilted.

It was real. All of it. She had known, of course. Had always known that she had been brought here for one purpose. But hearing it spoken so plainly—so certainly—sent ice rushing through her veins.

A sickness twisted in her stomach.

She didn’t want to break curses. She didn’t want to be the one to save the world. For the first time, all she wanted was to run .

To disappear.

To never hold a dagger in her hands again.

She swallowed the nausea rising in her throat

‘So, how did seeing my maid Vera sneak someone into the castle lead you here to me?’ Mal rasped, her voice brittle. Her head ached from all the information, her thoughts tangled beyond repair.

‘Becas Vera looked almost frightened for a moment, which peeked me interest at what had caused her to look so panicked,’ Wren explained. ‘It was ya, making yer way out of da castle. Ya were both very close and yet from where ya were standing ya could not see her. But she could see yaaaaaa .’

Mal turned away from the wolverian princess, tilting her head towards the trees.

Their leaves trembled beneath the weight of the wind—a hot drakonian breeze that felt like fire to her, yet offered relief to those born of this land.

She listened to their movement, hoping to catch the hushed whispers of the gods, waiting for an answer, a sign, anything to tell her what to do.

But the trees spoke only to themselves.

The gods did not answer.

Swallowing her disappointment, Mal turned her attention back to Wren.

She would have to find Vera. She would have to speak with the witch hiding beneath the guise of a drakonian servant, demand the truth that had been kept from her for far too long. But before that, there was something else—something even more pressing.

The dagger.

If she could find it, if she could wield it, she could put an end to the curse. ‘What else can you tell me about the dagger or the curse?’

Wren exhaled slowly, as though unspooling a thread of long-buried knowledge.

‘Well… most believe there is a curse becas da Great War separated all da kingdoms that once upon a time had been united. But there are recordings—written accounts—that claim Princess Aithne was da first to mention it. They say that da moment da Great War was over and da witches defeated, screams echoed throughout all da kingdoms. And then…’ She hesitated, her voice growing softer.

‘Then they say almost every single king and queen from each kingdom—except for their children—died in their sleep. All at da same time.’

A shiver trailed down Mal’s spine.

‘No one could explain it,’ Wren continued. ‘Of course, now they call it a plague. A tragic coincidence. But Queen Aithne—before she died—said it was no accident. She claimed Tabitha had cursed them all for what they had done to her.’

Mal frowned. ‘But Tabitha tricked Prince Hadrian. She ensnared him with magic, made him betray his oath to Aithne.’

Wren shrugged. ‘Tabitha was, in many ways, da reason da war started in da first place. If she hadn’t cast a spell over Hadrian, forcing him to break da marriage oath, da war would’ve neva happened.

Some say she fell into despair when she realised what she had done—how she had condemned her entire kingdom to ruin.

That in her grief, she cast one final spell. ’

Mal’s heart pounded. ‘A curse.’

‘A curse,’ Wren confirmed.

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken truths.

At last, Mal asked the question that had haunted her since childhood.

‘Does anyone actually know what the curse will do when the hundred years are up?’ She had always heard fragments, bits and pieces of speculation, but no one truly knew.

Only that when the centennial anniversary of the war arrived, something terrible would befall them all.

Wren tilted her head.

‘There are rumours,’ she admitted. ‘Some say all da kings and queens will die, just as their ancestors did. Others say a black mist will fall over all da kingdoms, drowning da land in eternal night. And then there are those who whisper that if da curse is not broken, da witches will rise and slaughter us all in our sleep.’ She snorted.

‘A bit far-fetched, that last one, but da point is—no one actually knows. All we do know is that when da hundred years mark da night of Hadrian’s death… something will come for us.’

A cold weight pressed against Mal’s chest.

‘And that is why,’ Wren went on, ‘even though Seers have not been able to see what will happen, most are trying to stop it. I’ve seen glimpses of da witches in me visions.

I’ve seen a great battle, a war that will shatter da world.

And…’ She hesitated. ‘I’ve seen ya, Mal.

I’ve seen ya stab da Fire Prince in da heart. ’

Mal’s breath hitched.

She knew it. She had known it since the moment she had stepped foot in this land, since the moment the prophecy had wrapped its invisible chains around her, binding her to fate.

But hearing it aloud, spoken by someone who had seen it…

It made it real.

Her hands trembled.

‘So no matter what I do, there will be another war?’ she whispered.

Wren sighed. ‘If ya do not stop da curse, there will be no war. Becas there will be no one left to fight it.’ Her words settled like ice in Mal’s bones.

‘But if ya break it,’ Wren continued, ‘our kingdoms will bleed. The peace that has existed in silence will shatter, and there will be war again. We Seers… we see. But unless others believe what we say, our words are as hollow as air.’

Mal inhaled sharply, steadying herself. ‘I need to find that dagger.’ Her chest tightened, the weight of inevitability pressing down on her. ‘How do you know it will break the curse?’

Wren’s gaze darkened.

‘Becas da dagger belonged to Hadrian.’

She paused.

Then, with the solemnity of a death sentence, she added, ‘ It’s da same dagger Tabitha used to kill him. The same one she used to take her own life.’

…

Wren followed Mal through the dim corridors until they arrived at Kage Blackburn’s chambers.

The space was cloaked in shadow, the heavy curtains drawn tight against the sun.

The air smelt of ink and dust, of old parchment and candle wax.

Books and tomes lay scattered across every surface, spilling from shelves, stacked haphazardly on the floor, even strewn across the bed in a disordered symphony of knowledge.

In the centre of it all stood Kage, violin in hand, the haunting melody he had been playing cut abruptly short as his gaze landed on the two intruders in his doorway.

His dark eyes narrowed, slitted with irritation, but behind the displeasure lurked something sharper—curiosity, stirring in the abyss. Not at his sister.

At her .

Wren had never been particularly skilled at recognising discomfort in others.

‘Well, hello there!’ she chirped, stepping forward with the unrelenting energy of a gusting wind.

‘I am Wren. Wren Wynter. Sista of Bryn Wynter, soon-to-be king of da Kingdom of Ice. Well, not soon, I shouldn’t say that—poor papa would be horrified.

But he ain’t getting any younga.’ She moved towards him, eyes gleaming as they settled on the violin.

‘Oh, I’ve always wanted to learn! Will ya show me?

All me brothas and sistas play some silly thing.

But me mama used to say I wasn’t born with da ear for music—whatever that meant.

A boy once told me I had a lovely voice, so maybe she was wrong.

Or maybe he was a bit too drunk on icebroth.

’ She spun towards Mal, tossing her a grin.

‘Icebroth is a drink we have—made with a lot of ice. It’s meant to make ya happy, but I’ve neva tried it becas me papa says if I did, I’d neva shut up. ’

Kage stared at her, unmoving.

Not with irritation.

Not even with curiosity.

But as if he had just stumbled upon a peculiar creature—one he had never encountered before and was unsure if it was venomous.

Slowly, he turned to Mal and murmured, ‘Why does it speak like that?’

Mal rolled her eyes. ‘She’s just cheerful. You might want to learn from her.’

‘I am fine, thank you,’ Kage said flatly, closing the violin case with an air of finality. ‘Why are you in my room, sister?’

‘Oooooh, ya and I are going to steal some documents from a library full of old folk,’ Wren sing-songed, eyes dancing with mischief ‘Mal already explained on da way here why she can’t go.’

‘Did she?’ Kage’s gaze darkened.

‘Yes, she did.’ Wren nodded enthusiastically. ‘She’s married to the Fire Prince, so she can’t be caught stealing if she’s to become the future queen of this land. But we can.’

‘No, we cannot.’ Kage’s expression turned murderous. He spun towards Mal, fuming.

‘You said I just needed to find someone that would steal them! Ta-da!’ Mal patted Wren on the back, then quickly turned on her heels and ran out of the room. ‘Good luck!’

The door slammed shut behind her.

Kage stood in silence.

Staring.

Wren, completely undeterred, clicked her tongue and began wandering the room, touching everything. Occasionally, she plucked a book or parchment from its place, only for Kage to snatch it back with a scowl.

Finally, his patience snapped. ‘Why would my sister choose you to steal something?’

‘Becas I’m a thief, a spy and a Seer.’

Kage went still. ‘A Seer?’

‘Mm-hmm. I see things.’

‘I know what a Seer does.’

‘Oh, I just wanted to clarify as ya seemed a little lost there for a minute.’ She pulled another book off the shelf. ‘When are we going to da library?’

‘You’re a girl. Women are not allowed inside.’ Before he could argue, she grabbed his arm and pulled. Kage froze. No one touched him. No one ever dared to touch him.

It was an unspoken rule—one that no one had ever needed to be told. And yet, this infuriating, ridiculous, tiny wolverian girl had just grabbed him as if he were nothing more than a common acquaintance.

As if she had no fear of him at all.

Wren caught the look on his face and smiled, warm and utterly unconcerned.

‘It’s okay.’ Wren smiled sweetly. ‘Ya will get used to it.’

Kage yanked his arm free with a growl. ‘I doubt that.’

Still, he followed her.

With great reluctance.

The thought of having to listen to her for the duration of their journey to the library was agonising. She didn’t walk—she skipped, light and quick, her boundless energy an offense to his entire existence. She talked—endlessly, animatedly, with a voice that was both sharp and full of mischief.

Kage clenched his jaw, trying not to look too disgusted.

‘Ya would like me brother Bryn,’ Wren mused, eyeing him sideways .

Kage barely spared her a glance. ‘And why is that?’

He shouldn’t have asked.

‘Becas he’s also tall, serious and enjoys brooding.’

His forehead creased. ‘I do not brood .’

Wren laughed, nasal sound that grated against his ears. ‘Oh, yes. Ya will both like each other a lot .’

Kage exhaled through his nose.

She barely reached his shoulders, yet somehow, she carried herself like she owned every space she entered. He stared down at her, dark eyes sharpening. ‘And how are you so sure of that?’ he drawled. ‘Did you see it in a vision?’

‘No, it’s just a hunch.’ She grinned, showing white teeth, utterly unbothered by his mocking tone. ‘But ya ought to trust me, Kage Blackburn. I see things.’