The forest had always been forbidden.
Children were told stories of monsters there—women made of bark, wolves with hands, trees that whispered your name in your sleep. No one went past the black pines unless they had a death wish or a secret.
Lucia had both.
---
She slipped from the house in silence, barefoot, the crow circling once overhead before gliding into the trees like a shadow. Behind her, the village slept—safe, warm, cruel.
The path into the woods was narrow, clawed over with thorn and root. But Lucia never stumbled. The earth seemed to know her feet.
She followed the crow.
Past the river where they had first called her witch.
Past the clearing where she'd once bled and said nothing.
And deeper still—until the mist thickened, and the night began to hum with voices not made for human ears.
---
She came to a stone gate grown over with moss. No door, only open air. But stepping through it felt like falling through time.
On the other side: silence. But not empty silence—listening silence.
A glade of withered trees stood in a perfect ring. At the center, a circle of stones, blackened with soot, cracked with ancient carvings.
The crow landed on the largest.
And then it spoke.
Not in words. But in memories.
Lucia's eyes glazed.
She saw:
A woman burned alive, never screaming.
A girl drowned in the river, her beauty envied too deeply.
A child buried alive beneath the church altar, cursed for being born on a blood moon.
All of them silent.
All of them watching.
And in the center of them—a queen without a name.
Stitched mouth.
Eyes of fire.
Crowned in thorn and bone.
She looked at Lucia.
Lucia looked back.
No words were exchanged.
But Lucia understood.
---
The magic in her blood wasn't new. It wasn't born from pain.
It was awakened by it.
The curse they spoke of? It wasn't a curse at all.
It was inheritance.
---
When Lucia returned, the dawn hadn't broken.
But Mira stood in the doorway, eyes wide, lips trembling.
Lucia's dress was torn with thorns. Her hands, stained with ash. Her bare feet bled from stone.
But she walked like someone who could set the earth itself on fire.
Mira opened her mouth to speak.
Lucia only placed a finger to her lips.
And Mira… fell silent.
Not from magic.
From awe.
---
The girl who left for the woods had been a victim.
The girl who returned?
Was becoming vengeance.