She sits high up in the branches of an ancient blackthorn tree, draped in a darkness blacker than midnight.
They’re still searching for her.
She can hear the faraway shouting, the breaking of twigs underfoot, even the beating of their hearts.
Now she watches those five blazing hearts dancing through the dark far below, glowing like red embers in the dying fire.
Her eyes travel further afield, to the heart of the forest, where a nimbus of brilliant silver blooms in the shadows.
She smiles as the cold wind tugs on her hair, and she sends a tune out along the breeze, towards the silvery light.
The oldest song she can remember.
A lullaby.
Soon, she’ll be free.
She’ll destroy it. Music made magic, the chain unbroken for a thousand years.
All the players are assembled.
The hour is la
