*Lena*
I woke to faint sunlight filtering in between the thick curtains blanketing the frost-covered windows in my room at the castle of Winter Forest. Another day closer to the war, another day further from Xander.
Maeve had gone out into the woods with the book last night, and we had waited up for her to return. She came inside, her parka hanging loose over her shoulders and her glorious copper blonde hair tousled and fanning out beneath her hat. Her face was blank and flushed, and she had a distant look in her eyes.
She handed my mom the book, murmuring, “All of us are meant to gather–you and I, Lena, Mom, Clare… Mara too.”
“We’ll get Mara here as soon as possible–” Mom had begun, but Maeve turned on her heel and walked away, gliding up the staircase like a ghost.
A feeling had settled in my gut that twisted and lurched for the rest of the night, making it nearly impossible to sleep. Whatever Maeve had seen, or heard, had wrecked her beyond words.