The boat cut through the water.

  Creak.

  Splash.

  Creak.

  The oars dipped into grey-black depths, pulling them away from the rot of Mistmoor.

  Liora rowed with familiar grace.

  The fog was thinner here, but it clung to the hull like a second skin.

  Every breath tasted wrong-like rain that had passed through something dead.

  Mina sat across from her, knuckles white against the gunwale.

  Her eyes darted-left to the grey water, right to the smudge of shore, down to the dark.

  She was looking for movement.

  For the things her father said lived here-beings with too many teeth and no mercy.

  Liora didn't offer a word of comfort.

  Fear kept people sharp.

  Thud.

  The boat struck sand.

  Mina flinched.

  Liora was already over the side, stepping into the freezing shallows.

  The water bit at her calves; she didn't blink.

  She reached back, offering a hand.

  "Come on," Liora said. "Unless you'd rather wait for the tide."

  Mina took the hand, her grip a vice, and climbed out.

  The cold was a sharp, gasping jolt that locked her knees, but she forced herself through the surf until her boots hit solid ground.

  Okelhaven.

  The mainland.

  Liora hauled the prow up the shore, kneeling to tie it off to a blackened stump.

  Her fingers were nimble, despite the chill.

  "So," Liora said, eyes on the rope. "Ever been out of Mistmoor?"

  Mina wiped salt from her lips. "My father took me. A few times. Ever since I told him I wanted to see the world."

  Liora’s hands paused for a heartbeat. "Well," she said, her voice flat. "Isn't he a saint."

  Mina frowned, the lack of sarcasm making the observation feel heavier. "Have you?"

  "Sure. A few times." Liora stood, brushing sand from her knees. "Mistmoor is the largest island in the world. Didn't need to leave often."

  "Then why did you?"

  Liora turned toward the treeline. "People pay me to find things. Sometimes those things aren't on the island."

  The way she said find made Mina’s stomach turn.

  She didn't ask what happened once the "things" were located.

  They climbed the final rise of the shore.

  The landscape opened-a sprawling expanse of green, rolling hills dotted with wildflowers, stretching toward the distant, golden glitter of the capital.

  Mina forgot to breathe.

  Mistmoor was grey stone and amber fog.

  This was alive.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  The grass was a green so vivid it felt like an insult.

  The sky was an endless, terrifying blue.

  Liora exhaled, eyes closed for a second, pulling the clean air into her lungs to replace the stagnant rot of the island.

  Then her expression snapped back to business.

  She knelt, pulling a folded map from her cloak.

  Mina knelt opposite her. "Where is the library?"

  Liora’s finger landed near the center of the parchment. "Inside the palace."

  Mina’s head snapped up. "What?"

  "You heard me."

  "So you're going to-"

  "Break in." Liora was already folding the map.

  She said it like a destination.

  "What about me?" Mina’s voice climbed. "What do I—"

  "You're staying outside." Liora tucked the map away. "Having you inside is just a shortcut to a noose. You'll wait on the ridge."

  "The palace is filled with guards," Mina whispered, her pulse thrumming in her throat. "The Royal Families... you won't get away with this."

  "Trust me." Liora stood. "I’m a professional at not being seen."

  Mina wanted to scream that this was suicide.

  Instead, she bit her lip until she tasted a nibble of crimson.

  Twenty minutes later, they reached the cliff’s edge.

  Below them, the palace sprawled across the valley like a crown jewel dropped in the dirt.

  Even from here, Mina could see the glint of armor on the walls-tiny, synchronized shadows.

  Liora stood at the edge, narrowing her eyes.

  She wasn't looking at the beauty; she was memorizing the math of the patrol.

  "Here." Liora held out a small, smooth stone.

  A violet rune etched into its surface pulsed with a soft, rhythmic light.

  Mina took it. "I’ve never seen this."

  "Your father stole it," Liora said, eyes back on the palace. "Years ago. When he worked there."

  The air left Mina’s lungs. "My father... worked in the palace!!"

  Liora whipped around, a finger to her lips. "Keep it down. Unless you want the guards to hear the family history."

  Mina clamped her mouth shut, face hot.

  "Press the side if you need him," Liora said. "Or don't."

  "I'd rather read my book," Mina muttered.

  Liora’s lips twitched-a ghost of a smile. "Whatever suits you."

  And then she jumped.

  Mina’s scream died in her throat.

  Liora didn't fall; she flowed.

  She launched into a controlled slide, using roots and rocks as handholds, her boots barely touching the shale before she was moving again.

  Within seconds, she vanished into the treeline.

  "She's insane," Mina whispered.

  The forest behind her went still.

  The birds had stopped. The wind had died.

  There was only the sound of her own frantic heart.

  Mina sat on a mossy log, pulling Ancient Dialects of the Eastern Tribes from her bag. She needed the familiar.

  She needed the logic of grammar.

  The words blurred.

  Rustle.

  Mina froze.

  To her left, the bushes shook.

  A small head poked through the ferns.

  A goblin.

  It was knee-high, its skin the mottled green of old moss.

  Its ears twitched, sniffing the air.

  Its teeth were long but blunt.

  Mina’s breath slowed.

  Green ones were harmless. Scavengers. father had said so.

  She reached into her pouch, pulling out a strip of dried meat.

  She held it out, hand trembling. "Hey... it's okay..."

  The green goblin shuffled closer.

  Sniffed.

  Then it stopped. Its nostrils flared.

  It looked past her, back into the dark of the woods.

  It screamed.

  A high, rattling chatter.

  It pointed a frantic finger behind her and bolted.

  Mina’s stomach dropped.

  The brush exploded.

  Three goblins burst through-massive, hunched, their skin a sickly, jaundiced yellow.

  Their mouths were too wide, filled with serrated teeth slick with bile.

  Their eyes were black pits.

  They spread out without speaking.

  Backs to the trees. Her to the cliff.

  Mina scrambled back, her book hitting the dirt.

  The yellow goblins snarled, the geometry of the trap closing tight.

  She opened her mouth, but the only thing that came out was:

  "Oh shi—"