Emeralis Veilborne ran because stopping meant dying. Behind her, the men in black cloaks who had killed her parents crashed through the trees. She was sixteen. Her parents had trained her to fight, but not to face five swords at once. The smell of her burning home still clung to her, sharp and hot, even here among the glowing trees. Her boots slipped on wet roots. Green and purple leather scraped bark as she ducked under a low branch. She pressed her palm to a thick trunk and pushed her plant magic into it. Vines burst from the ground behind her. They snapped around a man's legs and dragged him down. He screamed. She did not look back. Another cloaked figure lunged from the side. Emeralis spat acid from her fingertips. It hissed across his blade and ate through the steel. The sword broke. He stumbled, and she ran harder. The glowing mushrooms and hanging vines blurred past. Her lungs burned. Then the trees opened into a clearing, and the shouting behind her faded. She had lost them. She bent over, hands on her knees, and let herself breathe. That was when the growl started. A wolf stepped from the ferns. Its fur burned red, and its eyes glowed like coals. Heat rolled off its body in waves. Emeralis raised her hands, but she was shaking, and her magic sputtered. The wolf crouched. Then it sprang. Water slammed into the wolf from the side. It hit hard and threw the beast into a tree. The wolf yelped, shook itself, and bolted into the dark. Emeralis spun. A girl stood at the clearing's edge, one hand still open from the throw. Black and blue braids hung past her shoulders. Her leather armor matched, dark with blue lines that seemed to ripple like a river. She looked calm, like saving strangers was a normal Tuesday. "You're welcome," the girl said. "Name's Koral. From the Deep." Emeralis kept her hands half-raised. "How do I know you're not with them?" Koral snorted. "The cloak boys? They tried to gut me last week." She nodded toward the trees where the wolf had fled. "That thing would've cooked you. Your acid can't stop fire." Emeralis lowered her hands slowly. Her heart still pounded. "Those men killed my parents. Burned my home." The words came out flat and hard. "I'm going to find them. I'm going to end this war so I can stop running." Koral studied her for a long moment. Something in her face shifted, softer now. "Then you shouldn't hunt them alone." She held out a wet hand. "Water beats fire. You'll want that." Emeralis looked at the hand. She had trusted no one since the fire. But the cloaked men were still out there, and she had almost died twice in one night. She took Koral's hand. "Emeralis," she said. "We move before they regroup."

Emeralis and Koral reached EveMae Village by dawn. Timbered cottages clustered around a stone well, and a small chapel rose above thatched roofs. The two girls needed more than magic to hunt the cloaked men. Emeralis had watched five swords close on her once. Her acid broke one blade. It would not break five. "We need steel," she said. Koral nodded. "Then we find someone who knows it." They found him behind the chapel, splitting wood. A short man in a black cloak swung an axe with quick, exact strokes. A sword hung at his belt, its guard shaped like gold wings. Emeralis stopped cold. The cloak was the same as the men who burned her home. Her hands rose, fingers wet with acid. "Don't," the man said, not turning. "If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead." He set the axe down and faced them. His eyes were sharp and tired. "Name's Nymiir. I wore that cloak once. I hunted people like you. Then I stopped." He looked at Emeralis' shaking hands. "You throw acid because you can't hold a blade. I can smell fear from here." "You worked for them," Emeralis said. Her voice cracked. "They killed my parents." "I know what they do." Nymiir picked up two wooden practice swords from a barrel. "That's why I left. And why I'll teach you. Magic runs out. Steel doesn't." He tossed one sword to Emeralis and one to Koral. "Or keep running until they catch you." Emeralis caught the sword. She hated him. She also knew he was right. She raised the blade. He drilled them all day. He knocked the sword from Emeralis' grip a dozen times. "Too much anger. You lunge, you fall." He struck her ribs, light but sharp. "Breathe. Watch my shoulders, not my eyes." Koral moved like her water, smooth and patient. Emeralis fought like a fire, wild and hot. Nymiir hammered that out of her, hour by hour. By dusk her arms burned. But when he came at her again, she read his shoulder. She stepped aside and stopped his blade with hers. The wood cracked together and held. Nymiir stepped back and almost smiled. "There. Now you're dangerous with more than your hands." He sheathed his own sword and grew still. "I'll tell you one thing free. The men who burned your home don't act alone. They take orders from a Sorcerer in the north. He wants this war. End him, and the killings stop." Emeralis lowered her practice blade. For the first time, the war had a shape. A name she could hunt, even if she didn't know it yet. "Where in the north?" "That," Nymiir said, "you'll have to earn." He walked toward the well and did not look back. Emeralis met Koral's eyes. They had swords now, and a direction. The hunt had a head to cut off. In the morning, they would ride north.

Emeralis meant to ride north at dawn. She never got the chance. Nymiir met the two girls by the stone well, his face grim. "Word travels," he said. "My old comrades know I turned. They sent someone to kill anyone I train. That means you both." He drew his sword. "He's already here." A figure walked up the winding lane between the timbered cottages. White robe, deep hood, wide sleeves. No face showed inside the hood, only shadow. Villagers scattered from their doorways. Emeralis's hands went wet with acid. Beside her, Koral pulled water from the well into a coiling whip. "Two students," the white figure said. The voice was calm, almost gentle. "The traitor keeps busy." A hand lifted. The air went cold. Ice spikes shot from the ground where Koral stood. Koral rolled clear and lashed her water whip across the robe. The figure staggered. Nymiir charged, sword high. The hooded hunter turned and caught his blade with a bare hand wrapped in frost. Ice crawled up the steel. Nymiir cried out and dropped it. "Emeralis, the tree!" Koral shouted. Emeralis slammed both palms to the dirt. Roots burst up through the lane and wrapped the figure's legs. It pulled and thrashed. Emeralis poured acid down the roots. The vines held it fast while the acid ate through the white robe. The figure hissed and threw the hood back. A woman's face, pale, eyes bright with cold light. "You think killing me ends it?" she said. "I am one blade. The queen has a thousand." Emeralis froze. "The queen?" "Ignia Flamecrown." The woman laughed, though acid burned her arms. "The sorcerer you hunt in the north is no man. She wears a crown of red jewels. She sent me. She sends everyone." Emeralis thought of her parents, of the fire, of the men in black cloaks taking orders from someone she'd never seen. Now the enemy had a name. A face. A crown. The hunter tore one leg free and raised her hand for a killing frost. Koral struck first. Her water whip snapped around the woman's throat and yanked. Nymiir grabbed his fallen sword and drove it home. The white figure sagged against the roots and went still. The cold left the air. Steam rose off the melting ice. Emeralis stood over the body, breathing hard. "A queen," she said. "Ignia Flamecrown." Nymiir wiped his blade clean. "Then you have your target. But you can't stay here now. More will come. They know this village. They know me." Koral let her water fall back to the ground. "Then we don't stay." Emeralis looked north, past the thatched roofs, toward the mountains. The hunt had a head to cut off, and now she knew whose. "We ride," she said. "To the queen." She left the village behind before the smoke of the dead hunter's robe faded.

The ride north took days. Emeralis and Koral crossed cold hills until the queen's home rose from the valley. It was a castle of white stone and red roofs, tall towers wrapped in crimson banners. Emeralis had pictured a fortress. This looked like a fairy tale. That made it worse. Her parents burned so this woman could live behind pretty walls. The iron gate stood open. No guards stopped them. Emeralis and Koral walked into a wide hall of white marble. Firelight danced along the columns. Then two women stepped from the shadows to block the path. They were elves, tall and graceful, with hair that burned like living flame. Ember light traced their bare arms. Their eyes glowed gold. Heat rolled off them in waves. "The queen expected you," one said. Her voice was warm and calm. Both raised their hands, and fire bloomed in their palms. The elves threw twin streams of flame. Emeralis dove behind a column. The smell of burning stone hit her, and for a heartbeat she was back at her home, watching it fall to ash. She shook the memory off. Koral pulled water from a fountain and sent it crashing into the first elf. Steam filled the hall. The elf screamed and dropped to one knee. Emeralis slapped her palms to the floor. Roots tore through the marble and coiled around the second elf's legs. The elf burned the vines, but Emeralis was ready. She poured acid down the roots faster than they could burn. The green fluid hissed across the elf's skin. The elf staggered, and Koral's water whip took her from behind. Both elves fell still. A slow clap echoed from the far end of the hall. Queen Ignia Flamecrown sat on a raised throne. She wore white and red robes and a crown of red jewels. Long white hair spilled past her shoulders. She looked small, almost harmless. Fire curled around both her hands. "You killed my parents," Emeralis said. Her voice shook. "You burned my home." "I burned many homes." The queen smiled. "Yours mattered so little I forgot it." Emeralis charged. The queen hurled fire, but Emeralis threw up a wall of thick roots to catch the flames. She sprinted through the smoke and grabbed the queen's throne with acid-soaked hands. The wood dissolved. The queen toppled. Koral's water pinned her arms before she could burn again. Emeralis stood over her, breathing hard. She pressed one glowing hand to the queen's chest. Acid ate through the red robes. The queen's fire guttered and died. Her eyes went empty. The crown of red jewels rolled loose across the marble. Emeralis picked it up. The queen was dead. But the queen's words stayed with her. Many homes. Many agents. Killing the head might not kill the war. Then boots thundered in the corridor beyond, and cloaked men filled the doorway, drawn by their fallen queen.