Her stomach leapt as she walked straight into the wall that wasn’t really a wall. Darkness enveloped her once she moved past the glamour. The magic must have worked on the sprites too because none of them flew in this hidden hallway.
Or perhaps they knew they hallway existed, but they avoided it anyway.
A shiver pulsed through her shoulders. She tugged the blanket tighter around herself while her eyes adjusted to the darkness. It felt denser than any darkness she had ever known. The sprites were just on the other side of the glamour, but their green light didn’t come through it.
The only source of light came from ahead. Far ahead. And if she wasn’t mistaken, it came from below as well.
Shuffling her feet forward slowly, she discovered a stone staircase leading down. Using the cool stone at her side to balance herself, she stepped down toward the tiny light. Her boots tapped each step quickly. The air cooled around her as she descended.
Soon, her hands no longer touched just cool stone. Every so often, a thorn would prick against her finger. After a few more steps, she couldn’t even keep her hand on the stone wall. Too many thorns stretched over the stone surface. After even longer, her boots began crunching over thick vines, which also had thorns.
Darkness continued to pool around her, but the creaking made it clear that thorns were everywhere. They curled over the walls, the steps, the ceiling. The tiny light ahead grew, but everything still looked black. Maybe it was just because of the black briars filling so much of the space.
It probably should have scared her. A vague notion of fear danced around in her mind, but it didn’t plague her. Curiosity won in that fight. Despite the darkness, despite the thorns, even despite the cold, she continued down the steps. Something inside pulled her forward, drew her to the bottom.
When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she didn’t stop to think for even a moment. Her hand reached for the leather strap attached to the door in front of her. Somehow, even before she opened the door, she knew what she would see. She had a vague idea of the layout of the castle and where rooms inside met the castle walls outside. That helped her know what was beyond the door, but that wasn’t the only thing.
Her heart could feel it. Perhaps it wasn’t her heart but her gut. Whatever it was, she stepped into a large room, glancing straight up at the chandelier near the ceiling.
It gave off soft light just like it had when she saw it the first time. There were still no sprites. If she hadn’t been so entranced by the room around her, it might have been disconcerting. But the spark inside her continued to pull her forward.
The chair made of leather and bundled sticks sat empty now. Neither Brannick nor his wolf were anywhere in sight. Briars and thorns dotted the room in haphazard growths.
After carefully closing the door behind her, she moved straight toward the chair. Flutters went through her stomach with each step. She couldn’t explain why, but a smile played on her lips.
Drawing her sword, she sliced away every thorn that curled and twisted over the chair. There were other places to sit. The plush chair she had lounged in the other night still sat across from the stick and leather chair. It didn’t even have any thorns wrapped around its arms or legs.
But she wanted to sit in the chair Brannick had been sitting in. The reason for it remained elusive. Or maybe she just didn’t want to admit the reason. The point of her sword dipped and sliced until every thorn had been broken away.
As she lowered herself into the chair, a gasp escaped her lips. Something happened the moment she finally took a seat.
Something magical.
A daydream flashed in her mind, but it felt more like a memory. She saw Prince Brannick sitting in front of an ice tree growing out of a glittering, snowy landscape. He clutched his side while thick weariness dragged on his features.
She had certainly never seen him in a place with snow or frost, but she could still picture the daydream as clearly as if it had really happened. Then the prince repeated words she had once spoken to him.
A prince never accepts defeat.
She had chuckled then. Or… She shook her head, trying to reconcile this non-memory. This was only a daydream, so she hadn’t chuckled then. She chuckled now at the thought of Brannick saying those words. It was so like him to say something so daring and egotistical all at the same time. And of course he would say it while injured and unable to stand.
Glancing over the room, she discovered one corner had an entire tree’s height of briars twisting around each other. For the same reason she had entered the room in the first place—which was really no reason at all—she found herself walking toward the corner.
Her sword lifted, very nearly of its own accord. The same urging inside herself pushed her feet until they had reached that corner. Once her sword started moving, she only had a vague understanding of what she wanted to do. She just let her hand move the way it wanted to move.
Expert swipes sent her sword through the vines of the briars. When finished, the twisting vines looked almost identical to how they had looked when she first arrived in the room. But there was an important difference.
Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward. Her eyes narrowed. Stretching one hand out, she plunged her fingers straight into the depths of the briars. Except she met no resistance. Not a single thorn brushed against her skin. The careful slices of her sword had carved a path for her.
With her hand deep in the briar, her fingertips brushed against a stone of some sort. The small rock was easy to pick up. Soon, she had it out of the briars and in the palm of her hand.
A crystal.
The light green rock had a raw cut with the rough lines of the crystal still intact. Its light green color reminded her of sage and pears. A thin striation of purple stretched through the crystal at one end.
It was cool to the touch, but it didn’t feel like normal stone. When she held it between two fingers, her fingertips buzzed. And it was glowing. It didn’t physically glow. It looked like a rock, a beautiful rock, but a rock nonetheless. But she could feel it glowing. It gave off energy, which she couldn’t explain. And she couldn’t ignore.
The same energy threaded into her arms until it bloomed in her chest. The buzzing of her fingertips crackled along her skin.
Brannick. Something about the crystal reminded her of Brannick.
That’s when she noticed the thorns.
All around her, the thorns had multiplied and twisted. Several vines trailed up her boots, very nearly wrapping around her legs. With the tip of her sword, she sliced them away.
The crystal had to be protected. Even as the thought sounded in her mind, she couldn’t explain it. But she wasn’t about to argue with it either. Wrapping one hand tight around the small crystal, she raised her sword and moved toward the door once again.
It took a few slices and jabs to move past the thorns without incident, but she made it. With the crystal in one hand, she carefully closed the door behind her and began climbing the darkened staircase.
Her boots crunched over twice the amount of thorns that had been there before.
At the back of her mind, she couldn’t help wonder if this moment was real. Was it a dream? It felt like a dream. In fact, the crystal in her hand was the only thing that didn’t feel like a dream. But maybe that only proved it was.
She moved up the staircase and past the glamour that hid the hallway from view. She didn’t stop to think or even listen. By the time she made it to her bedroom, she was panting from exertion. She ignored the discomfort that burned in her legs after climbing so many stairs.