The forest was alive with its usual symphony of rustling leaves and murmuring streams, but Finn and Ryn paid it no mind. Their focus was on her—the human girl raised by fae. She knelt in a field of glowing moonflowers, her hands brushing their petals with reverence. Finn, perched on a low branch, couldn’t take his eyes off her. “She doesn’t even realize how much they hate her,” he murmured, his golden eyes narrowing.

Ryn, standing in the shadows, folded his obsidian wings. “She knows,” he said coldly. “They make sure she does. But she doesn’t break.”

The girl had been raised by Halrin and Loryn, two fae farmers who had found her as an abandoned infant. Halrin, with his moss-green wings and steady demeanor, had taught her the ways of the forest, while Loryn, quick-witted and playful with shimmering blue wings, had nurtured her boldness. They loved her fiercely, but most fae despised her, seeing her as an interloper, a human polluting their sacred realm.

Finn admired her defiance, the way she carried herself despite the scorn. She reminded him of the forest’s wild spirit, untamed and resilient. For Ryn, it was her quiet strength, her ability to endure in a world that constantly tried to reject her. She embodied the discipline and resolve he respected most.

As they watched her rise and move toward the brook, she paused, her gaze lifting to meet theirs. Her clear, fearless eyes pierced through the shadows.

“She sees us,” Finn said, his usual bravado replaced by awe.

“And she’s not afraid,” Ryn added, his icy exterior softening.

For the first time, the twins shared the same thought. Against all logic and against their kind’s hatred, they had both fallen for her. She was everything they couldn’t ignore.