The forest floor was soft beneath nine-year-old Faline’s feet, a carpet of moss and fallen leaves muffling her steps. Ravael’s distant call echoed between the ancient trees—”Ready or not, here I come!”—and Faline stifled a giggle.

She’d found the perfect hiding spot near the old stone well, its moss-covered sides blending into the surrounding landscape. Without thinking, she began to sing. The words tumbled out, a nonsense melody that popped into her head:

“Absconday may day loominay”

The song felt strange on her tongue, unlike any children’s rhyme she’d heard before. Something about the words made the air around her feel… different. Thick. Quiet.

Ravael’s footsteps crunched closer. Faline held her breath, pressing herself against the well’s stone side.

“Faline?” Ravael’s voice was close now. Too close.

Faline’s heart raced. Ravael stepped around the well and stood an arm’s length away from her. Disappointment swept over Faline. She’d been found. Oh well. But when she looked up at Ravael, confusion was painted on the girl’s face.

Ravael’s gaze swept across the spot where Faline stood. “Faline?” she called again, her voice clouded. She reached out, her hand almost touching Faline.

A cold thrill ran down Faline’s spine. She could see herself. Her hands. Her dress. But Ravael could not.

“Ravael,” she whispered. No response.

Ravael continued searching, calling her name, moving further into the trees.

Slowly, Faline moved. She walked to the well’s edge, watching her own movements.

The well’s surface was dark and still, like a mirror of shadows. Faline leaned close but saw nothing in the reflection. She waved her hands over the water, but saw nothing. She was invisible but very much present.

What am I?

She tried different words. Whispers. Fragments of songs. Nothing changed.

Then, almost by accident: “Ex oombray lewchem.”

Suddenly, she could see her hands and face in the well water.

Ravael was deep in the woods now, still calling. Faline’s excitement dissolved into a sharp, cold fear. This was different. Not normal. The kind of thing the residents of Thornhaven spoke about in hushed, frightened voices.

Stregas.

No one could know.

She found Ravael quickly, her friend’s face a mixture of worry and relief. “There you are,” Ravael said. “I thought I’d lost you!”

Faline forced a laugh. “Just a good hiding spot,” she said, and hoped her voice sounded normal.

But something had changed. Something fundamental. And she knew, with a bone-deep certainty, that she could never tell anyone.