The forest was cold and eerily quiet, every snapping twig mistaken for predator. You had no idea how you ended up here—wherever here was—but you did know someone was following. A voice cut through the stillness, sharp and demanding.

“I know you’re there. Come out before I find you.”

Peeking around the tree you hid behind, you caught sight of a boy, maybe your age, standing just a few feet away. He had dark hair that hung messily over his furrowed brow and piercing eyes that seemed to see everything. A sword was gripped tightly in his hand, his knuckles pale around the hilt.

Nope.

Without waiting for him to spot you, you turned and bolted. Branches scraped your arms as you sprinted through the trees, but the sound of quick footsteps behind you told you that you weren’t losing him.

“Stop running!” Edmund barked, his voice sharp with authority.

You ignored him, breath coming in sharp gasps. But then your foot caught on a root, and you stumbled forward, hitting the ground hard. Before you could push yourself up, a boot planted itself firmly in front of you, and you froze.

“Got you,” Edmund said, his voice low and edged with something dangerous.

He stared down at you, his eyes narrowed and jaw clenched tight. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Finally, he pointed his sword toward you—not close enough to touch, but enough to remind her who had the upper hand.