POV: Nova
Nova was scrubbing the same stone tile for the fourth time when she heard the screaming.
Not a person. The wind. It had picked up suddenly, howling through the cracks in the corridor windows with enough force to rattle the glass in its frames and send the torch flames bending sideways. The sound made her stomach drop before she could stop it because in her experience, when the weather turned sharp and angry without warning, it meant something was wrong in the Enchanted Woods.
It meant her brothers.
She sat back on her heels and pressed her fist against her chest, counting. One breath. Two. She closed her eyes and reached through the thin, fragile thread of magic she shared with them the one that had been fraying for eight years, the one that would snap the moment she opened her mouth. The thread was still there. Thin as spider silk. But there.
They were alive.
She let the breath go.
"You alright?"
