Chapter 1

Silas woke up cold.

Not the cold of the small, rural house he shared with Willow, his daughter.

This was a different cold, a memory cold, sharp like breaking ice.

He sat up in bed, his heart pounding.

The dream, no, the knowing, was vivid. Fire. Willow screaming. Julian Thorne' s smiling face in the shadows.

Seraphina, his wife, turning away.

He had given up everything for Seraphina. His power, his ancient life as a guardian of the wilderness. All for her love, for a mortal life with her.

Now, that life felt like a trap, closing in.

Seraphina was a world away, leading The Sterling Order, her old-money society with its dark traditions. She was always busy, always with Julian Thorne, her dead sister' s husband.

Julian, who was always whispering in her ear.

Silas looked at Willow, sleeping peacefully in her small bed. The premonition showed her critically injured, a pawn in Julian' s games.

No. Not this time.

He moved quickly, quietly. He dressed Willow in her warmest clothes, her small body limp with sleep.

"Daddy?" she mumbled, her eyes still closed.

"Shhh, sweet pea. We're going on an adventure," he whispered, his voice rough.

He grabbed a small bag, a few essentials. His Heartwood Staff, the key to his lost power, was with Seraphina, at the Order' s grand estate. He needed it.

They slipped out of the house, into the pre-dawn chill. He didn't look back.

The journey was long. He carried Willow most of the way.

Finally, the massive iron gates of The Sterling Order' s estate loomed before them. It was a fortress of wealth and secrets.

Two guards in severe uniforms blocked his path.

"State your business," one said, his voice flat.

"I'm here to see Seraphina Vance. I'm her husband, Silas."

The guards exchanged a look. A smirk played on one' s lips.

"Mrs. Vance is occupied. And she' s already with Mr. Thorne."

The words were a casual dismissal, a confirmation of his deepest fears.

"I need to see her. Now."

"You need to leave," the other guard said, stepping forward.

Just then, Willow stirred in his arms, her eyes fluttering open. She saw the grand house beyond the gates.

"Mommy?" she called out, her small voice clear in the morning air.

A figure appeared on the wide porch of the main house. Seraphina.

She looked regal, distant, dressed in the severe, elegant style of the Order.

She saw them. Her face tightened, a flicker of annoyance, not concern.

"Silas? What is the meaning of this scene?" she called down, her voice sharp, carrying easily.

She descended the steps, her movements precise, controlled.

"And Willow, stop that insolence. You do not shout."

Silas felt a cold anger rise, but he pushed it down. For Willow.

"Seraphina, we need to talk. It's urgent."

She reached the bottom of the steps, her gaze sweeping over his worn clothes, Willow' s sleepy, confused face.

"You look a fright, Silas. And dragging Willow here like this? What were you thinking?"

It wasn't a question of concern. It was an accusation.

The warmth he once knew in her eyes was gone, replaced by a cool assessment.

This was not the woman he had sacrificed his world for. Or perhaps, she always was, and he had been blind.