Chapter 1
Chapter One
Nina
The sign hung crooked on a splintered post, rust bleeding down the centre where the nail had bitten into oak. Strips of red paint peeled away at the edges, crusty like old scabs, but the black cross splashed across the wood was still bold. Still a warning.
If I had half a brain, I’d have turned around. Instead, I slipped past the post and into the tangle of trees. Branches clawed at my sleeves. The mist pressed close, the air rank with rot. Roots bulged from the earth, catching at my boots.
I hate forbidden zones.
My hip already twinged, the familiar grind of bone in a socket that never sat right.
My leg brace held it steady, though every step drove the metal harder against my skin.
Hauling myself through the haunted, overgrown mess wasn’t exactly my idea of a good morning.
This stretch of woodland was said to be cursed, crawling with beasts that whispered in the shadows.
I knew it was wild, maybe dangerous, but I was starving. That was all that mattered.
It hadn’t always been forbidden. The village had long forgotten the fire that once tore through it, leaving nothing but ash.
Miraculously, the land grew back, but it felt wrong.
The new growth seemed too lush, shooting up too tall, too quickly, for a forest that had been dead just years before.
The air hung damp and the fog slithered low across the ground even on clear days.
The Cunning Folk said no one was to enter, erecting their stay out signs around the area, and the village listened.
I started slipping in anyway. It was eerie, sure, but nobody came here, which meant more for me. The forbidden zone was only a few minutes’ walk from the village edge, and it was the closest ground to my cottage. I could forage without running into anyone or anything.
Late-morning sunlight filtered through the canopy as I strode lightly onwards, with my focus fixed on the ground, looking for anything I could gather. A flash of purple broke through the soil, and I crouched over a patch of sicklewort. The flowers were bright, easy to spot, and rare in autumn.
I slipped my blade from my belt, cut a thick, healthy bunch, and wrapped it in cloth before tucking it into my satchel.
A good find. Still, I couldn’t dawdle. Today was Firstfire, and the whole village dragged itself to the meadow to give their confessions before sundown.
No one was stupid enough to miss it and face the Cunning Folk’s wrath.
Mud sucked at my boots until I reached the small swamp. In the usual spot, long reeds poked through the murky water. I knelt at the edge and pulled a few up, their roots slick and pale in my hands. Boiled with a pinch of honey weed, they made a decent meal. I’d lived on worse.
I brushed my fingers over a faded thread looped around a tree trunk, then another, and another. They marked the path an hour into the woods. I didn’t need them anymore – I could’ve walked with my eyes closed, but I liked seeing them all the same. They reminded me of Tobias.
Back when the wilds began to return, I needed something to lead me home.
So, the first time I dared step into the forbidden zone, Tobias handed me a bundle of cotton thread.
He never came with me. Apparently, I’d drawn the short straw for venturing into possible death.
The thread was his way of making sure I didn’t get lost forever.
When I was ready to head home, my satchel was heavier and my heart a little lighter knowing we wouldn’t starve this week. I was plucking a cluster of mushrooms, marvelling at my good fortune, when I almost missed the crunch.
I froze.
Snap.
Something was moving. Too heavy for a rabbit. Too measured for a deer. They bolted at the first rustle of leaves, jittery and gone before you knew it.
This was something else. Something with mass.
Stomp, stomp, stomp.
It wasn’t rushing, not scrambling through the underbrush like a boar. It moved with a rhythm that made the hair on my arms stand on end. My fingers drifted to the blade hanging at my waist. Even though I carried it for foraging, not fighting, I could still do damage if I had to.
A deep, rumbling snarl sounded from somewhere ahead. I knew that something was watching. I sensed its presence nearby, and heat crept up my neck. Then came the smell: putrid, sour, like meat left to rot in the sun.
A blur of grey fur moved between the trees.
I shifted to get a better view, careful not to rustle the undergrowth and give myself away.
I knew how to stay quiet. Years of foraging and tracking had taught me where to step, when to hold my breath, and how to let the woods move while I stayed still.
I could track a deer through brambles, steal eggs from a buzzard’s nest and slip back through the village without a soul noticing.
I’d survived because I knew how to stay unseen.
The creature rose, unfolding into an enormous shape.
It had no neck, and its hind legs were taut with power.
Not a wolf. Not even close. It easily towered a head above my height, its arms too long, ending in claws built to tear.
Its jaws gaped wide, teeth glinting, tools meant for ripping apart its prey.
Eyes caught the light. They were red, bright as fresh blood – and they were staring straight at me.
I sprang into action.
The trees closed in fast as I bolted through the forest. I didn’t dare look back. Not when something was snarling behind me, and I had no interest in being its morning snack.
All it took was a few wrong turns, and I was off the path.
Lost.
Thorns tore at my ankles and my bare hands. A roar filled my ears. I didn’t know if it came from me or the beast. My lungs burned as I tumbled through the thicket, feet pounding on hard earth, legs threatening to give out.
I’d only meant to gather food, not wake something hunting for its next meal.
It crashed through the forbidden zone after me, thrashing through undergrowth. I ran until my vision blurred. Then I fell, slipping on a muddy bank, and I rolled sideways down, down, down—
I hit the ditch hard, the impact slamming the breath from my lungs.
Somehow, I managed to pick myself up. I couldn't afford the luxury of hesitation.
Thorny brambles and broken twigs tore at my hands as I climbed the far bank.
My chest was on fire, and my pulse roared in my ears.
It was impossible to hear over my panting gasps.
Stupid, gods-forsaken forbidden zone. I knew you’d be the death of me.
I was barrelling through the undergrowth again, wind biting at my cheeks, tears streaking faster than I could stop them.
My eyes caught on a thread strung around a tree trunk.
I was on the right path home.
Branches gave way as I pushed through the trees. My knees nearly buckled at the sight of the blackened post – the marker of the forbidden zone.
I’d made it out, and I was alive.
A few minutes later, I had put enough distance between me and the forbidden zone, and I slowed my run to a gentle pace.
I rounded a bend and stopped when I heard a strange whining noise.
I whirled towards it and found a woman perched on a large rock like a crow in human skin.
It was Hazel, barefoot and toes blackened with dirt.
Her hair was knotted with feathers and twigs, and an inky-black shawl was draped over her shoulders like folded wings.
“You walk the wrong paths,” she said in a loud, coarse voice.
“This is not the first time you’ve caught me coming from the forbidden zone,” I said. “And it won’t be the last.”
Everyone was terrified of the forbidden zones. Beasts lurking, people vanishing, blood on the leaves, you name it, there was a story for it. The Cunning Folk were the worst, wagging fingers and promising doom if we looked that way.
Hazel shrugged. “Don’t be so sure.”
“Look,” I said, dropping my satchel to the ground and pulling out a handful of mushrooms. “These are for you if you promise to keep this a secret.”
She nodded, snatching the mushrooms. The knots in my stomach eased. The rest of the Cunning Folk would have my neck if they knew I’d entered a forbidden zone. They’d have claimed I’d brought a parasite back to the village, or I had become possessed by demonic magic.
“You never saw me. Agreed?”
She nodded again.
“What are you doing out here anyway?” I said.
“Looking for you.”
That caught me by surprise, and I suddenly felt nervous. “And what can I do for you?”
“I need to warn you,” she said. “Because the fire won’t save you.” Her voice rasped like she desperately needed water. “It’ll burn you from the inside out.”
I hesitated.
Hazel often said peculiar things. Half the village thought she was insane. The other half revered her as the village seer and gave her gifts. I sat somewhere in the middle. I didn’t bring her gifts, but I didn’t fear her either, but she was the only one of the Cunning Folk I liked.
“Darkness comes tonight, and your turn begins,” she said with a wheezy voice.
“Darkness comes every night, Hazel.”
She frowned at me. “They’ve got it backwards . . . do not bind with a monster. It is your sin that will set us free.” Her voice trailed off, muttering in a language I didn’t know.
“Who’s got it backwards?” I asked, but instantly regretted that I was engaging with her madness.
“You should know what I mean,” Hazel snapped. “Your mind is too heavy for the gods to erase.”
“I’ve no idea—”
“You’ll remember when the time’s right.”
“Sure . . . okay Hazel.” It was hard to hold a conversation with her. She wasn’t always coherent.
Hazel took a deep breath. “And you should never forget . . . this place is not safe.”
Her scratchy voice was uneven, and it suddenly made me nervous.
I levelled my gaze at her, then said, “No. It isn’t safe at all.”
I wasn’t sure if she meant the forbidden zone or the entire village. It didn’t matter.
Hazel nodded, pleased at my agreement. “You and I see the truth. Cut from the same cloth. Held accountable for our wicked deeds. Completely dead inside.”
I sighed. “You’d better get going, Hazel. The rest of the Cunning Folk will wonder where you’ve got to. Firstfire is too busy a day for you to go missing.”
“I know you don’t want to leave Tobias, but you must be ready.”
I arched my brow. “Ready for what?”
“To save the seventh,” she hissed, “and take up your seat in the realm of demons.”
I paused and stared up at her, already at a loss. I couldn’t deny the panicked flutter growing in my chest. Hazel met my gaze, not with the usual fog of confusion but with clarity. And, for the first time, her eyes burned with triumph.
I swallowed and let out a nervous laugh.
Fantastic. I’m unsettled and perplexed.
A small smile curved her lips. Then she jumped down from the rock, nimble as a goat, and walked barefoot into the trees.
The urge to rush home came over me. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to move, and instead, I stayed rooted to the spot, waiting foolishly for my fear to loosen its grip.