Amaya crouched low in the quiet woods, her breath misting in the cold air. Before her stood the strange creature, small, slender, and naked-skinned with luminous green eyes that pierced the dark like twin lanterns. Her long brunette hair flowed over her shoulders, and her golden eyes studied the being with a blend of curiosity and caution.
Her voice came out in a steady whisper.
"What are you?"
The creature tilted its head slightly, and its lips parted with a voice soft like leaves rustling in the wind.
"I have come to warn you, Princess."
Amaya stiffened. The forest around them seemed to hush, the wind pausing in its sway. The creature continued,
"As you know already… there is an evil."
Her breath froze.
"But what you do not know," it said, its eyes glowing more intensely now,
"is that it is already here." Amaya's eyes widened. The creature gave a solemn nod.
"Yes princess. Your people… they say the evil is coming. They watch the mountains, the sea, the edges of the realm. But they are wrong. The evil lies among you, Princess. It eats your food. It wears your apparel. It speaks your language."
Amaya stepped back, her mind spinning.
"Please," she begged,
"just speak plainly. What is this evil you speak of? Is it the Lycans? Have they disguised themselves again? Infiltrated the castle?" But the creature shook its head.
"No. This evil is worse than Lycans. Cunning. Patient."
Amaya frowned, frustration etched on her face.
"Then what? Who? Tell me!"
"And as for you, my dear princess" The creature's voice turned reverent.
"You are the future. You are the hawthorn. The firethorn. And the rose."
She blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift in tone.
"What does that mean?" she asked, her voice quieter now.
"What are you talking about, hawthorn, firethorn, and rose? I don't understand." The creature stared at her with something like sadness… and urgency.
Then it came again, rustling sounds behind them. Both turned quickly, alert. The bushes behind them swayed unnaturally, the sound sharp and swift. Amaya stood, her muscles tense.
"I must go," the creature whispered suddenly.
"They mustn't see me. Not yet."
"Wait!" she shouted as the creature darted away, vanishing into the trees like a wisp of fog. Amaya gave chase, sprinting in her human form, ducking under low branches and bounding over fallen logs.
But when she paused to listen, nothing. The creature was gone. No footsteps. No scent. Not even a disturbed leaf. She let out a frustrated scoff and stood still for a moment, heart still pounding. She scanned the dark woods one more time before exhaling and transforming back into her wolf form.
The night wind swirled through her fur as she darted back through the trees, her paws moving silently over the familiar paths. When she reached the palace perimeter, she scaled the same tree near her balcony and slipped into her room once again, undetected. The moonlight still bathed her chamber in soft silver. She transformed back into her human form and collapsed on her bed, but sleep would not come.
She turned from side to side, eyes wide open, the creature's words echoing in her mind. You are the hawthorn. The firethorn. And the rose. What did it mean? Was it a metaphor? A warning? A prophecy?
After some time, Amaya sat up and reached for the small desk by her window. She lit a candle, the flame dancing to life, casting soft shadows on the walls. She took up a quill, dipped it in ink, and pulled a fresh scroll from her drawer. With a steady hand, she wrote the words carefully, letting each one sink in.
"You are the future. You are the hawthorn, the firethorn, and the rose."
She stared at the words for a long time, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her heart still beat too fast. Her mind still buzzed. She knew she wouldn't forget this dream. Or… vision. Or whatever it had been.
She rolled up the scroll and tied it shut with a thin ribbon, placing it beneath a hidden panel under her bed. There it would stay, in case she needed it later—proof that this moment had happened, that the warning had been real.
Luna Jamayah slept soundly beside her husband, embraced by a rare peace she hadn't known in days. Yet it was short-lived. Soft whispers crept into her dreams, voices of the spirits calling her name, weaving strange messages she strained to understand. One name cut through the haze with chilling clarity, Amaya. Her eyes flew open. Heart pounding, she slipped out of bed without a sound and wrapped her cloak around her shoulders.
Moving swiftly and silently through the dim halls, Jamayah made her way toward Amaya's chambers, guided by an urgency she couldn't ignore, the spirits' warnings echoing in her mind. Something wasn't right.
The sun rose slowly over the high towers of the palace, gilding the stone in warm amber and golden hues. The light crept through the tall windows of the hallway just as Selene turned the corner, a basket of freshly pressed garments balanced on her hip.
She walked the familiar path to Amaya's chambers, humming softly to herself. The guards nodded as she passed—though one thing made her pause. Where was Ser Darkota?
The sworn protector was always stationed outside Amaya's door—always. Rain or shine, day or night. But now… the space beside the door stood empty. Her brows furrowed, and she hurried her pace, lifting her skirt slightly. She knocked once, gently.
"My lady?" she called.
No answer.
She pushed open the door slowly, peeking in. The bed was made, but Amaya wasn't in it. Selene's eyes widened slightly. She stepped fully into the room, her basket now forgotten on the floor. "My lady?" she called again, more urgently.
She scanned the room, it was empty. The balcony doors were closed, but not locked. The candle by the desk had burned to its stub, wax hardened at its base. Selene felt her pulse quicken. Where was the princess? And where was her protector? The hairs on the back of her neck began to rise. Something wasn't right.