The storm was unnatural—sharp, fast, and full of fury. It swallowed King Gabriel’s convoy whole, scattering men and horses like dry leaves. Drenched and alone, the king of Everland carved through the twisted forest, sword drawn, crown discarded in the mud behind him.

He should have turned back. No one entered the forest east of the kingdom. No one but her.

He stumbled upon the clearing—unnaturally quiet. At its center stood a strange cottage, grown from silvered trees and blooming nightshade.

Inside, she stood.

The Sorceress.

Short, delicate, radiant like moonlight caught in a bottle.

She didn’t flinch at the sight of him. “You bring war into my woods, king?”

“You bring storms upon my land,” Gabriel growled, water dripping from his golden hair, eyes burning with fury. “What spell was that?”

“It wasn’t me,” she said, voice soft but sharp. “But I wouldn’t stop it, either.”

Gabriel’s hand twitched near his sword. “You owe fealty to Everland. You live because I allow it.”

She stepped forward. Small. Defiant. “I live because you fear what I am. And you should.”

Their power clashed in silence, the air between them buzzing like a struck chord.

“Do you think yourself above me?” he asked, stepping closer.

“I think I was never beneath you.”

Rain slammed the roof. Magic stirred in the floorboards.

Neither would back down. And neither knew yet how much they’d need the other.