Cateline saw everything but managed to know nothing. The vision was a hazy dream, one so falsified and distant that it could have been a figment of her imagination. She stood, an empty vessel while her soul had floated away—miles and miles away. She knew how she felt, cold and unaware, afraid. She knew who she saw, Aiora. She knew what she heard, but her mouth was as good as sewn shut. When she awoke from this daydream, Varin was shaking her by the shoulders and started to curse when she stepped away. Blinking, Cateline was brought back into reality but still felt like she was floating up in the air, a bystander as opposed to an animate thing—a person. Thaddius followed Varin as he walked deeper into the village and towards the shoreline, muttering words to his friend as they moved further away. Cateline turned on her heel and looked at the horizon, her eyes tracing up to the top of the mountain. She was numb but longed to feel. Feel anything, good, bad, and pain. They were distant dreams, and she needed to grab hold of something that made things real. She made way towards the edge of town, her eyes peering past each crevice into the homes that were boarded up. As if they were abandoned, each window was shut and locked, and each hole was patched uptight. A town that was so lively in that tavern was now silent, still, and eerie. There was an energy surrounding the kingdom, and it was pulling her towards the mountains that surrounded this city that nestled itself at the center of Traburg, Daggernest. Unknown land now felt familiar, it felt safe. So safe that Cateline found herself away from the center of town. Away from the hustle and bustle, replaced with a state of nothingness, away from the panicked and irritated Varin. Standing in front of a tree line, the grass was at her knees and the pine trees prickled her skin as she pushed into the greenery. Behind her, she heard the boys call out for their missing Princess, the echoes nearing as they swerved between the alleyways of homes. Cateline moved around each shrubbery, lifted her skirt as she stepped onto boulders, and jumped over the small streams that separated the rolling hills that approached the green mountains. The echoes of their voices were now a distant memory, the only sounds that surrounded a rustling branch and buzzing bugs. Swatting at some of them, she wiped the guts of these bugs off her skin as she began to sweat. It was chilled, but she was warm. Her skin dewy, and her eyes narrowed, she found herself at a dirt path that winded up the smallest bases of the mountain ranges. The trees parted on either side of this path, their branches forming an archway for the moon to peer through as the sky grew dark. For once, Cateline did not doubt herself. As she began to traverse up the lower regions of the mountain, and the air grew cooler, her heart slowed, and her brain calmed. Numb, calm, and unaware. Three states of being that should have alarmed Cateline, but instead made her push onwards to this foreign power. A humming whisper in the back of her mind pushed her toward the climbing mountainscape. She could not tell if it was human or not—or, rather, if it existed at all. All she could do was push herself up the path and climb over logs and boulders that served as an obstacle. Time was something of a construct because as the sky grew darker into the wake of night, she felt energized. Finally, she was put at a stopping point. Her feet no longer moved, and the core of her being felt it had gone on long enough. Looking around, Cateline peered between the trees and kicked up some dirt, not daring to make a sound or move. It was still. She pinched the fabric of her dress, which was tattered at the end of her skirt from the twigs that snatched the fabric, and the rocks she had to climb. The journey here was a blur, but the wobble to her knees told a different story—one that made her feel something. Pain, maybe, but pain meant this was real. Atop a nearby cliff, she saw a small group of people approach. They peered down at her, their eyes golden and radiating as bright as the stars above. Each of them knelt, leaning over the edge, and almost appeared as if they would fall off and onto the ground beside her. Still and unmoving, they rested their knee on the rock and did not tear their gaze from her. As a few twigs cracked to Cateline’s right, she snapped her head in the direction and saw a woman arise from the shadows, with light hair and luminously green eyes. She was tall and walked just like Leolina—a wicked, floating figurine of elegance. “Princess Cateline,” she curtsied. “You are a long way from Axulran, are you not?” Cateline narrowed her eyes, nodding her head with a careful smile. There was a tickle in the back of her mind that begged her to run, but despite this intuition, she stood still. “My most sincere apologies, I am Seraphine. I understand you have been running around with Varin in hopes to find Aiora?” Again she nodded, daring not to say a word for any of them could be dishonorable and cost Cateline her life. “So quiet, so well-tempered. King Airen taught you well, Cateline. I asked you a question, though, and I expect it to be answered. How has your search been?” Clearing her throat, Cateline opened her mouth to respond. When the words came, they were shaky and but a whisper. “I am not sure. I was not aware they were searching for Aiora until recently.” The woman nodded, beginning to circle Cateline as if she were prey. Like a vulture, her piercing green eyes trailed her, from the tattered rags of her skirt to the latching point of her bodice. It was a quiet stalk, the air growing heavy with unease. “A touch of truth in a bed of lies—you have known of Aiora’s disappearance for a few days. You, after all, were the one to alert our dear Varin of her absence.” Clearing her throat, Cateline pinched her palms to distract from the dizzying headache. When Seraphine stopped, she stood close. Her posture straight, with shoulders pulled back and chin upright just enough to cast a shadow across her chest from the moonlit sky. Each iris glowed as if the emerald colors held their own energy waiting to explode. She was terrifying. Beautiful, powerful, and terrifying. Seraphine lifted a finger, trailing it along her jawline until it met at the center of her chin, lifting it so Cateline mimicked the pitch she held. With this, Seraphine smiled and nodded her head. “There, now you hold the confidence I could only expect from a Princess. So scared, though… so far away from home, no friends… Unless you consider that trio at Lighthelm friends, but I would never suspect you see such inferiors as companions. No?” Cateline gulped. “I am unsure where you are coming from. Status does not matter to me, at least not right now.” “Your status does, though. I can feel the frustration broiling beneath your veins—you want people to respect you, you crave the satisfaction of being superior. You fall short, though, in many things. Why is that Cateline?” Clenching her fists, she bit her tongue to prevent saying something that could get her killed. This upset Seraphine, her lips pursed, and nostrils flared. The fingers that had lay rested underneath her chin now pinched either side of her jaw, bruising the skin. Cateline gasped, her eyes watering from the sting of her grasp but she pinched her palms so fiercely to hold back the tears. Seraphine looked like the personification of craze, with eyes so fiery and a smile so wicked, it crawled up to her cheekbones and ended in a cackle as he saw the tears form at the sockets of Cateline’s eyes. Releasing her grasp, Seraphine pushed Cateline away with a wave of her hand, and although her shove never made physical contact with her, she felt a force so strong against her shoulders that it put her on the ground. When she tried to stand, her legs gave way and she was left on her knees. The leaves crunched beneath Seraphine’s boots as she walked, a metallic object slipping from the inside of her sleeve and into her hand. As she lifted it into a ray of moonlight that peered beneath the branches, a blue dagger became visible. Cateline choked on her saliva and breath, struggling to stand. She was pushed back to the ground with each attempt, her legs glued to the dirt and arms tugged behind her back. As she turned to look over her shoulder, she saw nobody. The only thing controlling her was the air itself. “I hear you want to know more about magic, Cateline. A little birdy told me.” Returning her stare to Seraphine, her eyes widened at the sight of blood that trickled down as the blade sliced across the skin. It started at the tip of her finger and led down to the bend of her arm. A lethal injury, but one that healed within seconds of the slice. She slowly approached, the foreign words dripping off her tongue and resided in the air, tracing behind her like the wind. Kneeling, Seraphine rubbed the blood against the hollows of Cateline’s cheeks and yelled out the last proclamation of her magic. This time, it was in their native tongue. “A child of the night, a lost soul to imitate the phantoms of the night. Only the light shall break this wretched fate!” Seraphine grabbed her by the jaw again, this time opening her mouth wide. Cateline screamed as the blood touched her tongue, her world turning as white as snow until her vision was no more.