Chapter 1

One

There was a dead glowfly poking out of the wrathweed hive.

The entrance hole, no bigger than a marble, was clogged up with its plump body. Outside, in the brisk night air, glowflies circled. Agitated and concerned. And if I wasn't careful, I might get stung. And if I got stung, I'd be bedridden for two days, even with the help of wrathweed to dilute the poison of their venom.

The light in the glowfly's body had burned out. I'd been noticing him for three nights, studying the way the cerulean blue in his translucent abdomen kept flickering.

"Let me help," I whispered, waving my hand in front of the hive in practiced, slow motions. The glowflies darted away, though they hovered close by, their wings silent as if they waited with bated breath.

I pinched the glowfly's large wings between my fingertips and gently pulled. His body popped from the entrance, and a stream of wrathweed glowflies wiggled themselves out in his absence.

I set him in the circle of my palm, thinking that I could grind his body into a powder once it dried out and use it in a sleeping potion for the market day. Then I sighed, the thought of a greedy tongue and loud swallow drinking his body down not sitting well with me.

I was the keeper of these glowflies—five different varieties. The only keeper of all five glowfly hives on Allavar, and there was a trust that pervaded all else, except perhaps in matters of life or death.

The wrathweed glowflies followed me to their section of the night garden, casting me in bright blue light with every hushed step on the soft green earth. I laid his body at the root of a smaller wrathweed plant and covered him in fragrant, black soil. I stared at the small lump he made as his hive mates fluttered past me, landing on the long, sturdy leaves of the plant. They shook their bodies, their blue dust covering the wrathweed, trickling to the soil beneath.

Then they flew off and went about their business…and I went about mine. Death was a natural part of this garden—an important part.

Dusting the soil off my hands, I picked up my gathering basket and walked to the fire-cup bed. The fire cup glowflies bled orange light through their bodies. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine it was the sun casting shadows over my lids—that was how brightly they burned.

"Harvest night," I announced. "So don't get cranky with me, you little heathens."

A fire cup glowfly whizzed past when I pulled out my shears, an inch away from my nose, its wings brushing my eyelashes.

I huffed but strode forward. Mercifully, though the fire cup glowflies were the most aggressive of my collection, their stings did only that—sting like fire. It was the wrathweeds' sting I needed to be wary of, though luckily, next to the shadevine glowflies, they were among the calmest of their species and didn't spook easily.

"Let's see how well you did this moon cycle, shall we?" I asked, crouching down by my raised beds, my knees digging into the softened ground.

Inspecting a fire cup, I touched the velvety softness of its petals. The flower was the brightest of reds, and its golden-yellow stamens gleamed from the glowflies' magic. Streams of orange light pulsed from within the petal, like waves in a calm ocean.

"Beautiful," I declared, grinning, just as a glowfly landed on the back of my hand. I placed my shears an inch below the flower, snipping the stem cleanly. "Well done."

As if he understood my praise, my glowfly companion preened, letting out a small buzzing noise before darting away.

I harvested three additional fire-cup blooms, though this section of my garden was nearly full of them. I only needed three for the healing cream I would bottle and take to the market. The sale of them alone would be enough to pay for the materials to repair the eastern window of my cottage before winter. There might even be enough money left over for fabric to make a new dress, a warmer one.

It was nearing midnight when I finished tending to the garden. With the first bite of winter, the fire cups would begin to hibernate, as would their glowfly counterparts. Only the shadevine and the wrathweed would continue to produce during the snowy season. But I would need to start preserving the brightbell and the death needle before their last leaves dropped in the coming months.

Exiting my garden, I closed the squeaky waist-high gate behind me. With a lingering glance over my shoulder, I admired the myriad of colors the glowflies made as they weaved and buzzed, a vibrant and brilliant kaleidoscope of magic, like multicolored shooting stars in an inky night sky.

When I reached the gray cobblestone path that led up to the door of my cottage, I stilled, my eyes snapping to the darkened forest beyond the edge of my property.

The glowflies' gentle humming ceased, and a chill went down my spine.

Being watched was not a new sensation. There was a reason no one dared to live in the Black Veil, the forest in which I'd made my permanent home like the crazy human fool I was, as the villagers often tsked at me on market day—Allavari, Kylorr, and Ernitians alike.

Fear was not a new feeling. I'd been afraid nearly my entire life.

But the Black Veil was the entrance to the Below. No one knew where it lay within the forest, just that the Severs roamed these woods and, occasionally, snatched a villager or two to take Below with them.

Severs had watched me before, their presence curious but ominous. I'd seen them between the trees—tall, dark, hulking shadows with their wingless bodies and bright, consuming eyes. Every single time stabbed a shard of ice deep in my belly, but I knew the barrier spell around my property would be enough to keep them away—or so the Allavari witch assured me every moon cycle when I paid her hefty price to keep it fresh and charged.

There was a Sever out in the woods right then. Watching me. I could feel it, like the touch of death trailing along my flesh. I'd never seen one up close, only in illustrations and drawings, likely meant to scare village children. But truthfully, they scared me too. They scared many.

"Peek?" I called out, my voice wavering uncertainly. "Peek, where are you?"

A dark flash appeared in the corner of my eye, and I crouched down, keeping my gaze on the forest's edge, drawing the protection barrier's path in my mind's eye in reassurance.

Peek's slinking walk was agitated, his back slightly arched, black-and-indigo fur standing on end.

"I know," I said quietly, running my hand over his small furry head. He nuzzled into my hand even though his slitted eyes were fastened beyond the trees. He could see the Sever—I was certain of it. "Let's go inside for the night, all right? I don't want you out here."

I picked him up, his warm, small body a comfort against me, despite the stiffness of his limbs. Cradling the basket of fire cups, I turned my back on the forest, keeping my walk measured, and disappeared into my cottage, shutting the door with a heavy thud and sliding the bolt into place.

I closed the shutters on the windows, sealing us inside the brightly lit space. Then I waited with bated breath…

And I only let out a sigh of relief when I heard my glowflies begin to hum again.

"He's gone," I said, keeping my tone bright. "Are you hungry?"

Peek let out a warbling mew.

I smiled, though I was still a little shaken. "Midnight snack it is."

The bellow woke me.

So loud and startling that it felt like it'd been yelled directly into my ear.

My eyes flew open, and I flung back the heavy quilt, my heart racing, my mouth bone dry. After I scrambled to stand from my bed, I stood stock still, listening. I held my breath. I couldn't hear my glowflies in the back garden, but I could hear my cauldron bubbling in a light simmer, the fragrance of the spicy fire cups permeating my small cottage, stinging my nostrils.

When I crept out to the front room, I saw Peek, fur ruffled, staring directly at the closed door.

Another bellow came, freezing the breath in my lungs. It sounded far off, echoing through the trees—certainly not as close as I thought it'd been.

"Peek, stay here," I murmured, grabbing the shawl draped across the seat of my cauldron's stool and wrapping it around my shoulders. My green nightdress swayed against my ankles as I shoved my feet into my worn leather boots.

The moon was full tonight, casting the forest in silver, so I didn't take my Halo orb to light my path. I did, however, grab my dagger and a pouch of finely ground fire-cup powder.

No one knew where the entrance to the Below was after all…or what happened to you once the Severs took you there. Just that you were never seen again.

Stepping out of my cottage, I took in a deep breath and exhaled, the crisp air fogging in front of me.

The bellow came again. Male. In pain.

Hurt,I thought, biting my lip.

By what?I wondered next.

I took to the path. It was difficult to track sound in the density of the forest, but I was fairly certain he was close.

My footsteps crunched over half-frozen fallen leaves, and twigs entwined in my hair from low branches, as if warning me to stay back. I cursed myself—fool, fool, fool, I thought—even as my legs propelled me forward, deeper and deeper into the forest.

But as a healer on Allavar, though I was human, I was honor bound to help those who needed it. Bound in blood and magic. Even strangers in the Black Veil on a moonlit night. It was in the oath I'd taken, the task granted to me when I'd passed my studies all those years ago.

His agonized moans and heavy breathing led me straight to him, farther north than I'd imagined but not so far from my cottage.

Peering through the trees, I finally spied him through the foliage and brush.

A Kylorr male,I realized, my heartbeat ticking up. One I recognized. From the village on market days. Him.

My cheeks flushed hot, the memory of those mischievous pale blue eyes spearing straight through my mind.

A breeze picked up through the trees, rustling my hair forward, and I watched his nostrils flare, his wings twitching. His gaze fastened straight on me, though he couldn't possible see me hidden in the darkness.

"I know you're there," came his deep voice, tinged in something darker. Pain, I realized. "I would know your scent anywhere, little witch."

He was sitting with his back against the trunk of an ancient tree, towering high overhead, its canopy disappearing into the night.

His skin was a lighter gray—almost silver—than other Kylorr I'd seen, and his features resembled the Allavari's sculpted elegance. High cheekbones, sharp enough to slice; a sloped nose I'd envision pressing my lips to more than once; and pointed ears that were decorated in silver piercings. His jaw held the unforgiving sharpness of a blade, and his lips were set in a small pout, his fangs just poking into his bottom lip since he sensed danger near.

The black horns that jutted from his temples curved around the crown of his head, sloping upward at the ends. His hair, silky black and long, hung below his shoulders, nearly to the middle of his back. The ends that covered his right shoulder looked wet.

Blood.

That was when I saw it.

A silver-tipped metal arrow was lodged deep in his chest. The shaft was glittering blue. A blue I recognized as trepidation made my belly lurch.

The Kylorr male had been shot with a poisoned arrow…and left to die in the Black Veil alone.