I was young when the curse happened, but I recall the smell of death and carnage that permeated our castle for years. My father never allowed the blood-stained marble floors to be replaced; he wanted us always to remember what Verdana had done. Her room held that smell, too.

I sometimes brushed her dry, wiry hair and sprayed her with lilac tonics to remind her of our home. Nothing ever worked. After the night of the curse, she never smiled again. And since my father banished her, she’s only uttered a handful of sentences. Most are gibberish, the ramblings of a woman who’s lost her mind. I know them by heart.

“She can be anyone; she can be anywhere!” Or, more often: “She will devour them all, and then nothing can stop her from tearing our world apart.”

The last time I left that stifling room, so many years ago, I called out, “I’ll see you soon, Mother. Warm up a smile for me until then.”

Before I closed the door, her meek voice responded with something I’d never heard her say before.

“The golden ring is fading; the world will be swallowed whole.”

I open my eyes, fighting against the pain. Light is fading from the forest, which means I was unconscious for most of the day. I gingerly rub my aching head; a large knot sits where the tree limb crashed into my skull.

Idalia. I jump to my feet and immediately sway.

“Idalia!” My head throbs. The woods are still. Lifeless. Silent.

I yell again, ignoring the discomfort. I repeat her name over and over. Useless.

“No,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “Have I lost you, too?”

The sun dips lower, and leaves fall as the wind rises from the trees. I can’t move. I’m broken.

“Braizen!” Her scream pierces the silence, a dagger cutting through flesh. “Braizen, please! Help!”

Before I can draw a breath, I’m pounding through the woods. Trees are a blurred brown smudge as I fly past. When I hear her cry again, I kick my feet so quickly I can hardly feel the forest floor beneath them. I’m a bird cloaked in red, soaring on a great wind. I keep going, but her voice doesn’t grow nearer. Perhaps I’m running in the wrong direction, but no, I hear her again, and I know this is the way. She’s still here, not lost forever.

Horrick must have made camp, or Idalia could’ve used her powers to stop them. I don’t know, nor do I care. She’s still here, somewhere.

I hear her sobs in the distance; she screams my name into the wind. I don’t stop running, even when her voice fades into a whisper and then into silence.

I keep running. Running. Running.