The horse neighs, but it comes from farther away, on the other side of the snapping, crackling noise of this fire.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, and I hold my hands out to the fire, trying to summon the magic.

  "Fire, be gone!" I shout, and I imagine the flames retreating, being sucked back into the earth.

  But the fire just roars higher, and I look around frantically. If I can get out of here, I can get to the river—and then what?

  A tree next to the brush catches on fire, flame wicking up to its branches, dripping embers over my head. “No!” I cry. This is ridiculous. I started this fire in my sleep. Why can’t I stop it?

  A figure appears on the other side of the flames. A man, dressed in a white tunic with a blue hood, standing with his arms outstretched. I squint at him, trying to make out details, but he’s hazy, blurry like a mirage.

  The fire stops. I suck in a breath as each flame blinks out like a candle snuffed by the wind.

  Gone.

  My eyes dart toward the man, but he's gone as well.

  If he was ever there.

  But the charred ashes of the fire remain, proof that the incident happened.

  My stomach churns. I don't know how to control this magic.

  I'm a danger to myself.

  And to others.

  The horse whinnies and bobs his head at me, waiting on the other side of the charred forest. I brush my hands over my face and step over to join him, all the while feeling there is no safe place for me.

  Brenin’s face flashes through my mind, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the warmth of his hand when he brushed mine.

  It’s less painful to think of Brenin than my family, and I focus on him. I picture him finding his sisters, saving them from the invaders, running into the hills and keeping them safe until the burning stopped.

  He has to be alive. He’s the last link to the person I was.

  My thighs and buttocks ache from riding the horse for days. I walk beside it now. My eyes are swollen and scratchy. I long for a bed made of something besides rocks and grass. The horse nudges me when I stumble over branches, a soft push in the small of my back that urges me to lift my feet and stay awake.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  A breeze brushes over my face, lifting the jagged ends of my short hair, and a soft whisper makes me look up.

  The forest is alight with color. Energy swirls around every creature, every plant. The green sparks flit about the foliage like bees. Large vines with purple and green leaves uncurl around the trees, purple lights making them glow. Bushes with bright, large flowers in shades of oranges and reds open to the dappled sunlight like a butterfly stretching its wings, sparks of similar bright colors hovering over the blooms.

  My hand runs along the bark of a tree, and a rune glows beneath my touch. I step back, catching my breath as the other trees light up as if in response.

  Enchantments. Carved into nearly every tree trunks.

  “The runes draw the gurek near,” a voice says, and I spin around.

  A man stands there, holding a staff, dressed like a priest of the old religion, the one before the Romans came with their talk of a new god. My eyes run from his bare head to his bare feet, to the white tunic and blue hood, and my heart skips a beat.

  “You stopped the fire,” I whisper.

  He says nothing. Doesn’t acknowledge my words.

  “Have you been following me?” I say. “For how long?”

  Again, no response. He just stares at me.

  Why is he here if not to give me answers?

  “I didn’t hear you approach,” I say.

  “I heard you,” he answers.

  Is it meant to be an insult? I shake my head.

  “What are the gurek?” I say.

  “They are all around you,” he says, nodding at me. “Can’t you see them?”

  I look down at my hands, and I do see them. The colored sprites bounce along my flesh, their touch so gentle that only now do I notice it. The same colors I see glowing throughout the forest.

  “Gurek,” I whisper.

  The buzzing in my head increases, threatening to split me open. I take a step back, alarmed.

  “I can’t control it,” I say. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He tilts his head. “Both sides war within you.”

  “What sides? What do you mean?”

  “The dark side of the gurek. The du.”

  The black ones. I exhale, knowing immediately what he means. “Yes. They follow me everywhere. How do I get rid of them?”

  “The key is to not seek them in the first place.”

  “I didn’t seek them. They found me.”

  He studies me so intensely I expect to feel his eyes puncturing my skin. “You must have done something.”

  A sharp pain stabs my temple, and I gasp, pressing my hand to it. An image comes into my mind—a body—a bloody rock—Anwen—

  My desperate prayer to save her.

  And then the thought is gone, shut down so fast I don’t have the chance to ponder it.

  “What?” I whisper, but my head aches so badly I feel I might vomit.

  The man stands there watching me, so still it’s eerie, and I feel a flash of irritation.

  “What do you want with me?” I snap.

  “Nothing. Unless you are the one we’ve been waiting for.”

  “Waiting for?” Goosebumps pop up on my arms at his words, and I rub my flesh. “Can you help me stop the—” The word magic sticks at my lips. To say it is to condemn me. “The gurek?”

  “You have a talisman. Use it.”

  I shake my head. “No. I don’t have one. I don’t know what you mean.”

  The forest darkens as if the sun decided to make an early descent. The trees seem to close in on me. Shadows fringe the edges, and even the man looks around. Then he looks back at me, his expression changed, more wary.

  “You call the darkness,” he whispers, and he takes a step back. Another step, and the shadows conceal him.

  “Wait!” I move after him. “What am I? What’s happening?”

  But he’s gone. The tree branches move, swiveling, the bushes rising taller, barring his pathway.

  I’m left staring at the space where he stood. Feeling more alone than ever.