“Lysa! Lysa, where are you?! Please answer me!”
Elira’s panicked, high-pitched voice came through the communication earring fastened to Lysandra’s right ear. Her voice competed with the roar of the gale and the shrill laughter of the shadow spirits that kept tearing at her divine wings.
“El... please... it hurts... it hurts so bad, El,” Lysandra whimpered, her voice breaking as she struggled against tears and the unbearable pain in her back.
“Where are you, Lys?! Your voice is so garbled. Your dad’s looking for you! The palace’s East Wing is in chaos because the guards couldn’t find you in your room!”
“There are spirits... black shadows... they’re attacking me, El. They’re sucking out my energy.”
“Shadow spirits?! What did you do to run into something like that?! Lys, where are you right now?!”
“The border... I flew to the border...”
“The border?! Oh my God, Lys! Are you crazy?! Why would you do something so reckless?! Stay there, I’m calling Caelus right now to come get you!”
“There’s no time, El... my right wing is torn... I can’t fly...”
A powerful blow from one of the shadow spirits struck the back of Lysandra’s neck, sending her spinning through the air. Her magic shield shattered completely. She no longer had the strength to fight. “Lys! Lysa! Why is the wind so loud?! Are you falling?!” Elira’s voice turned hysterical on the other end.
“I’m sorry, El... tell Mom I love her so much.” Lysandra’s tears were swept away by the biting cold wind.
“Don’t say stuff like that! Which way are you falling, Lys?! Answer me!”
“It’s dark, El... there are only thick clouds and black trees below... the Forbidden Forest.”
“LYSA! DON’T JOKE AROUND! LYSA—”
Elira’s voice cut off instantly, replaced by a painful static whine before the communication earring finally died completely. The ancient magic of the Forbidden Forest had severed every form of communication from the Divine Realm.
Lysandra closed her eyes in resignation. She let gravity pull her body downward, plunging through the thick eternal mist. Massive branches whipped at her skin and tore her silver dress before her small body finally slammed into the moss-covered ground with a heavy thud. Darkness. Her consciousness faded at once.
“Ow...”
A soft moan escaped Lysandra’s pale lips. She forced her eyes open. The first thing she saw was the forest canopy, blocked by enormous branches as black as pitch that let almost none of the moonlight through. Only the moss around her emitted a faint blue glow.
She tried to move her shoulder, and a stifled scream immediately tore from her mouth.
“My wing...” Lysandra bit down hard on her lip to hold back the pain. She reached toward her back. It was wet. Her silvery blood stained the ground. Her right wing was broken and horribly torn.
“El... Elira? Can you hear me?” she called hoarsely, pressing her silver earring. There was no answer. Only an oppressive silence.
Lysandra tried to support herself with both hands, forcing herself into a sitting position. Every joint felt crushed. The air here was incredibly heavy, as if it were choking her lungs. She could feel her divine energy plummeting. The curse that usually made the aura around her feel oppressive now felt empty. The magic of the Forbidden Forest was absorbing her energy little by little.
“Great. Just perfect,” Lysandra muttered with a bitter laugh, speaking to herself to drive away the fear beginning to crawl up the back of her neck. “This is what I wanted, right? To run away from the palace. To run from Dad’s control. Now I’ve got absolute freedom in a place that’s going to slowly kill me.” She wiped away her tears with the back of her trembling hand.
“Dad would be thrilled if he knew I died here. At least I won’t embarrass the family anymore. There won’t be a cursed child who has to be hidden away in the palace’s East Wing anymore...”
The words spilled out on their own, filled with anger and despair she had held back for years. In this desolate, deadly place, there was no one left for her to hide anything from. She no longer had to put on a brave face in front of her mother or argue with her father to seek validation.
“Mom... forgive Lysa,” she whispered, clutching the moss-covered earth beneath her. “Lysa’s just tired, Mom. Tired of living without feeling alive.”
Lysandra forced herself to stand, using the nearest tree root for support. She had to find shelter. In this forest, the shadow spirits from earlier were only the smallest threat. Ancient monsters and wild magic could tear her apart at any moment.
“Okay, Lysandra. Don’t be a crybaby. You have to keep moving. Don’t die stupidly here,” she continued to mutter, encouraging herself as she limped forward.
Every step felt like a thousand razor blades slicing into her. She made her way through the darkness, relying only on instinct and the glow of the moss. Suddenly, her ears caught a sound.
Rustle...
Lysandra stopped dead. Her heart pounded. She held her breath and sharpened her hearing.
“Please tell me that’s just the wind,” she whispered in panic.
But the sound came again. It wasn’t the wind. It was the scrape of leaves, followed by the heavy, hoarse sound of labored breathing. The groan of someone enduring unimaginable pain.
Lysandra took a step back. Her survival instinct told her to run in the opposite direction immediately. This was the Forbidden Forest. Whatever—or whoever—was behind those dense bushes had to be dangerous.
“Keep going, Lys. Turn around. Don’t go looking for trouble,” she muttered to herself.
But her feet refused to cooperate. She heard the moan again. This time it was weaker, like someone on the verge of death. And for some reason, her healing instinct as the Goddess of Life—which she had always suppressed because of her curse—fought to break free.
“What if they need help? What if they’re like me, and they ended up here by accident?” Lysandra’s thoughts churned. “But if I touch them... I’ll just kill them instead. What’s the point?”
Cough... cough...
The sound of coughing followed by a splash of some liquid made Lysandra close her eyes. Her conscience won out. She couldn’t ignore the suffering before her, even though she herself was gravely injured.
“Hello?” Lysandra called softly, her voice barely audible. “Is anyone there?”
There was no answer. Only ragged breathing that grew heavier. With faltering steps and one hand held ready as she tried to cast the last, pitiful remnants of her protective magic, Lysandra slowly pushed aside the dark leaves and thorny bushes.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean any harm. I just...”
The words caught in her throat. Lysandra’s eyes widened as she stared at what lay beyond. A young man was lying on his side atop a pile of dry leaves. Half of his dark-black armor had been destroyed. His blue-black hair was plastered to his head with sweat and blood. A horrifying slash ran from his left shoulder to his right waist, pouring out thick black blood that seemed to boil.
“Oh my God...” Lysandra covered her mouth with both hands, shocked by the severity of the wound.