Margret's Weald // The Haven's Gateway

Prologue

The silver moon cast trembling shadows through the windy branches, turning the sandy grass into a ghostly shade of white and black, like skeletons dancing in the night.

A short girl with messy blonde hair whipped through the undergrowth, breathing heavily from the strain of her heavy backpack, feeling dizzy from frantic running. She had to get away.

Run faster, run faster . . .

The undergrowth whipped by her, passing like shadow puppets on a movie screen. Her only light source was the shivering moon, but even it's fading light was occasionally blocked by wispy clouds, and she was left to her own frantic instincts.

She tripped on something solid, landing on the ground with a solid Oof, knocking the wind out of her. She landed on her hands, scraping them on the sandy ground.

She looked over her shoulder to see if they were following. The bouncing beams of flashlights were enough evidence for her. They called her name, begging her to come back.

She got up quickly, not looking to see what she had tripped on, then sprinted into the dark again.

"Sweetie!" Her mom called, breathing heavily. "Come back, we're here for you!"

"We want to help!" Her dad hollered.

The palms of her hands stung. Hot tears fled from the girl's eyes, making her vision blurry. She blinked them away, forgetting the pain for now. Now you want to help. But I'm done with asking you for it; I'm helping myself now. She thought bitterly.

She pushed herself to run faster. She knew she could outrun her aging parents. To get them further off her trail, she zig-zagged through the forest she knew so well, hoping they'd get lost tracking her down.

Their cries, heavy breathing and bouncing flashlights became far away, and almost nonexistent before the girl slowed down. As she stopped in a clearing, she looked behind her, heart beating rapidly and checking for her parents.

She willed her breathing to be quiet. Cold sweat trickled down her forehead, stinging her eyes. She curled her frozen hands into tight fists, trying to block the cold October air. The dark trees around her hummed, buzzing with the creatures of the night. It was quiet.

She flipped her backpack around and unzipped the icy zipper, fumbling on it with her stiff hands. When she got it open, she pulled out a long, moth eaten book with circles and triangles etched into the dark leather cover.

She flung her backpack aside, landing with a heavy thud. She traced her thumb alongside the book's pages, searching for the one she had dog eared. Bingo.

She flipped it open awkwardly, then found the passage she had marked with red ink.

She hesitated. She didn't know what would happen when she read it. She wasn't even sure if it would work. But if it did . . .

She looked up at the moon, hoping it would give her a sign. And approval. A warning. An omen. Anything. But it didn't move.

She took a shaky breath, the cold air like smoke on her lips, and tapped her fingers nervously on the heavy book's leather binding. If it worked, she could save her cousin. Her best friend. She had to try.

There wasn't enough light to read the incantation, but she had it memorized by now.

"Lasciate ogni sperantza, voi chi entrate qui." She spoke softly, trembling as fog came from her lips. "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here." She said again in English, and with her right index finger, traced the symbol on the page: a square containing a circle, and a straight line down the middle.