Ripple & Radiant

The rustling of papers and soft murmurs of officers filled the quiet clearing. Lunethra stood a few paces from the bloodied leaves, the breeze gently tugging at her coat. A police officer approached her, his notebook in hand, a faint furrow between his brows as he offered her a respectful nod.

"Mrs. Smith, if you're alright with it, I'd like to ask you a few questions about your daughter," he said gently.

Lunethra inclined her head. "Of course, Officer."

He cleared his throat. "We're trying to build a clearer picture. Could you tell me about Sylva's personality? What kind of person is she?"

Lunethra's face remained calm, her voice smooth and steady. "She's intelligent. Incredibly so. Curious, brave, and always a little too stubborn for her own good. She prefers books over crowds, and she's always had a fascination with nature—plants and animals. She doesn't like confrontation, but she won't run from it either."

The officer nodded, jotting down notes. "Did she seem stressed or troubled before the trip?"

"She was excited," Lunethra answered. Her fingers moved slowly over the silver chain in her hand, the pendant of Sylva's necklace slipping between them like a worry stone. "She told me she had two partners this time. And one of them was her rival in class. I believe her name was… Acacia, and the other is Nathan—the boy they found. She said Acacia had troubled her again a week before they came here, but that was all. She packed her things with care, like always. I didn't sense anything was off."

Lunethra was neither lying nor telling the truth, because she'd seen the girl called Acacia—and while other people wouldn't see the signs, she saw them. The inability to stay still. Wanting to help. Her hurried words. And lastly, her hands. They had been clenched ever since she arrived.

She knew the girl could be involved in what happened to her daughter, especially since Nathan was unharmed. But she didn't have the time to deal with her. Sylva was not in this realm anymore. She was in Veridion—and that was more serious than all this.

Lunethra turned her head, and there stood Acacia with a few other students, discussing why anyone would want to hurt Sylva and where she could be. She turned her gaze back to the officer.

But that doesn't mean the girl won't pay for what she did to her daughter.

"Has she ever wandered off before or gotten lost during outings in areas like this?"

"No. Sylva is responsible. She would never intentionally go off course without alerting someone. Especially not this deep."

The officer paused, watching her expression for any cracks. But Lunethra's face remained composed, her hands still and steady. Only her eyes gave any hint of the turmoil within.

"We understand," he said after a moment. "We're doing everything we can to find her. Thank you for answering these. I know it's difficult."

Lunethra looked down at the necklace. "You can't imagine."

He offered a small, sympathetic smile and added, "You can return home if you'd like. We'll stay in contact. If anything turns up, you'll be the first to know."

Lunethra's lips curved into a faint smile, warm and polite. "Thank you, Officer. I appreciate your efforts—truly."

He gave her a soft nod and stepped back, turning to speak with another unit.

She glanced down at the necklace in her palm—the same one she had enchanted years ago. A protective charm that should have flared the moment Sylva was in danger. But it hadn't. Instead, she had found it lying on the forest floor, as if severed from its bond.

Her heart panged.

What could have interfered with the charm? What kind of power?

The one who fought with Sylva last was a werewolf, and they do not have magic that can sever such a connection.

Was it the forest across the veil?

She'd felt it—even with the veil as a barrier, she'd felt the magic in that forest. It was invading, almost like the one she'd felt in Abytherion.

Her mind returned to the vision she had seen beyond the veil. Sylva curled in pain, her face twisted in agony. The man. The creatures. The fight. And then Sylva—lifted in that stranger's arms, vanishing into the forest.

The image clung to her like smoke.

She left the field research station without another word, walking calmly to her car, nodding once at those who passed her. But as soon as she sat behind the wheel, the illusion of composure shattered. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles going pale as she sped down the winding roads toward home.

The house was silent when she arrived.

She slammed the door shut behind her, the sound echoing through the empty halls. She didn't remove her coat. Didn't pause. Her heels clicked against the polished floor as she made her way to the stairs.

On the sofa, a large silver-furred cat slowly opened its golden eyes.

It watched her with curiosity.

Sensing the shift in her energy, the familiar rose from its spot, padding silently behind her as she climbed. Her expression was still calm, but something dark and powerful swirled beneath the surface. Fear. Rage. And a purpose she had not felt in years.

Lunethra was going back.

A werewolf—the enemy of the witches—had taken her daughter.

She had to get Sylva back. So she was going back to Elarithe.

…

After almost an hour and a half of calling all the people who were going to manage her businesses, properties, and the police in her absence, and hiring a private investigator to find out if Acacia was involved in her daughter's attack, she was good to go.

'Are we leaving?'

Lunethra paused, turned around, and looked down to meet her familiars' gaze.

'Yes. But you are going to be staying in the… mortal realm,' Lunethra said, her voice quiet but firm. 'Sylva crossed the veil into Veridion, and a werewolf took her. I need Celeste's help in getting her back.'

The cat's golden eyes narrowed. 'You're leaving me behind? And what help can your cousin give you? Did you forget that they are enemies with the wolves?'

'I need you here,' she replied, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she turned back to her wardrobe, pulling out a long wooden case sealed with an old runic lock. 'To watch over the estate. To report if anyone tries to follow me. And most importantly… to guard the passage. Also, Celeste is the Witch Queen. At least she can help me identify who the werewolf who took my daughter is.'

The familiar padded closer, its tail flicking in annoyance. 'Don't go to Elarithe alone. They might have been your family before, but they aren't anymore.'

'I don't have any expectations, and neither am I going there to reunite with them. I only need them to help me get back my daughter.' Lunethra crouched, her hand hovering over the lock as she whispered a word. The case creaked open, revealing a dark green cloak along with a dagger that pulsed faintly with energy. She reached for them, her expression unreadable.

'And I won't be alone,' she murmured, fastening the cloak around her shoulders. 'The forest remembers me. The coven may have turned their back, but the roots still know my blood.'

'That won't be enough. And what if they can't help in either way?'

Lunethra rose slowly, eyes flicking toward the small satchel on her bed that held Sylva's necklace. Her lips thinned.

She turned, 'Then I will get her myself. And if I have to tear down every tree and stone in that cursed forest to know where my daughter is, I will.'

The cat blinked, then sat, its tail curling around its paws in understanding. 'Then I will wait. And guard. And when you return…'

Lunethra gave a rare, grim smile. 'We'll deal with the girl.'

She crossed the room to the mirror by her dresser, where the frame—supposed to have long since dulled and cracked from age—still shone. She whispered another word. The silver surface began to ripple like disturbed water.

The veil shimmered.

Beyond it, the outline of a lush forest took shape—dense with shadows, alive with magic, and radiant.

She drew a deep breath and stepped forward, the mirror swallowing her form whole, the air around it crackling with power.

And then she was gone.

The house fell silent once more, save for the soft swish of the cat's tail.