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Finally, she descended the hill, the purple vines crunching and snapping under her feet. Even they couldn’t deter her, couldn’t cage her.

Wild. She was wild. The wind combed through her tangled curls, letting them ripple and sway, bend and fly. Wild was no longer an insult, but a praise. Wild meant free, which she so desperately wanted to be.

When the song came so near Thicket swore she could reach out and grasp it. Her hands collided with something firm, yet silky. She imagined this was what touching starlight would feel like. A pair of blue eyes met hers. Bluer than she had ever seen. Not pale like Lotta’s, nor deep like Elian’s, but some perfect in-between.

The melody stopped, leaving an emptiness inside Thicket, like the hollow ring of the last drum beat.

The next thing she knew, her stomach swooped and she was no longer on the ground.

Wings beat, powerful and strong.

She was stolen away into the clouds, off to some unknown destination, some unknown world and let the rock of a warm body lull her to sleep.

Soft wisps tickled her eyelids, luring them open. Thicket started, heart pounding against her ribcage as she remembered those blue eyes and the swoop of her stomach as she had been scooped up into the clouds. As she rose, mist glided across her body. Thicket extended a hand, watching in fascination as it disappeared. She drew it back, her pulse quick as wonder twisted into terror.

“You can stop panicking now.” A serene voice swept around her. Thicket spun in circles, yet she couldn’t see anything through the gloom. She prepared her incantations, ready to fight if need be. She waited for her phoenix to stir, lending her its strength. But her phoenix didn’t react. In fact, she could barely feel its presence, as though its consciousness was slumbering somewhere far away.

The mist parted. Thicket jumped back as a horse emerged. With its foggy body, it was hard to distinguish where the horse ended and the mist began. The only thing she detected with certainty was its eyes, glowing a phantom blue with no pupil in sight. Wings protruded from its flank, however instead of feathers, the horse’s wings were strung together with a thin, nearly translucent thread. Dew clung to the edges, making it glisten under the ivory light shining from somewhere above.

Thicket knew without a shadow of doubt this horse had been the one who coaxed her from the castle, its voice like a spider given the song of a siren to lure her into its trap.

The Soul Siren.

“Here, I am known as the Seeker of Souls.”

Spider-like chills danced along the skin of Thicket’s arms. Had it read her mind?

“Yes. I did.”

Thicket backed away. “If you are the Soul Siren—Soul Seeker,” she corrected. “Then that must mean you are one of the Numyna.”

And if this was a Numyna, then this place must be—

“Menheir,” the Soul Seeker answered for her with a nod of approval. “Very good. It seems you are familiar with our kind, which is rare indeed.”

Thicket dared take her eyes off the Seeker of Souls, letting them rake across her surroundings.

Menheir was truly the land of mist. Everything was shrouded in it, dulling the surrounding atmosphere to a pale gray. Even the grass beneath her looked faded, as if it didn’t even exist—not completely.

“Why did you bring me here?”

The horse tilted its head, a gesture so predatory it made her blood freeze over. “A more appropriate question would be why have you come?”

Thicket frowned. She opened her mouth to protest and insist she hadn’t intended to, but the memory of the Record Keeper’s words made her pause.

If a human develops a soul wish, they are ferried to Menheir by what your kind calls the Soul Siren.

“Indeed,” the Seeker of Souls said. “I heard your soul’s wish and have brought you here to fulfill it. You have a choice, human. Pass our tests, and we will give you everything you desire. Or, return to your world and forget this ever happened.”

A chill edged down Thicket’s spine. The tests… Alouette had told her this was how the spirits of Menheir separated the pure souls from the corrupt ones. Those with pure hearts were released and reborn. However the corrupt souls were forced to remain, feeding the land of mist until they had no energy left to spare.

She wasn’t dead. So what would happen to her if she failed? Thicket had a horrible, sinking feeling Menheir was like Lost Soul Lagoon. Only it wouldn’t just be her magical energy she was trading.

“Yes, human. If you fail, you will be sacrificing your soul—your very lifeblood—to Menheir. And you will never be able to set foot in your world again.”

In other words, if she failed, she would die. Thicket had a feeling that death in Menheir wouldn’t be kind.

“Tell me, human. Do you wish to see your soul’s wish granted?”