Morning came on bruised skies and brittle air.

Elle moved through the motions—brushing her hair, zipping her coat, packing her bag—but everything felt disconnected, like her body remembered how to move while her mind lagged behind.

At breakfast, Nan slid a steaming mug of tea across the table.

Chamomile and lavender.

A peace offering in porcelain.

“School won’t feel the same anymore,” Nan said.

Elle didn’t look up. “It already doesn’t.”

Outside, the clouds pressed low and heavy, like the sky wanted to crush the rooftops. The walk to school stretched longer than usual, as though time itself had slowed around her.

Locker 237 was waiting.

She didn’t go near it.

Couldn’t.

She kept her eyes forward, ignoring the pull in her chest. Ignoring the weight of the disc in her bag. Ignoring the thread—thin and invisible—that tugged at her with every step.

Classes blurred.

Teachers spoke, but their voices sounded like static.
Textbooks refused to stay still.
The world felt… dimmer.

Like her vision had shifted.
Like she belonged somewhere else now—and reality couldn’t quite catch her.

At lunch, Luke found her under their usual tree—near the fence that separated the school from the woods.

“You good?” he asked, tossing her an apple like always.

She caught it. Barely. “Yeah. Just didn’t sleep.”

Luke studied her a second too long. “You’ve got that look again.”

“What look?”

“The one you get when you’re pretending you’re not scared out of your mind.”

Elle forced a smile. “Maybe I am.”

He gave her a crooked, half-smile. “Well… you’re still pretty good at pretending.”

For a heartbeat, she thought about telling him.
About the disc. The forest. The whisper.
The frost spiral. Nan’s box. The truth that had unraveled everything.

But something in her stopped.

Not fear—
Something older.

A strange, quiet instinct that whispered he couldn’t know.
Not yet.
Not until she understood more.

A gust of wind swept across the field. Leaves skittered past their feet. The sky had darkened again, though the forecast hadn’t called for rain.

Luke squinted at the building. “Do you feel that?”

Elle nodded. Slowly. “Yeah.”

Like something was watching.
Waiting.
Breathing behind the veil of the ordinary.

Later that night, Elle stood at her bedroom window, staring at the stars.

Except tonight—
There were none.

Just fog.
And one glowing spiral, hovering in the mist.
Faint. Flickering.

And then—
Gone.

That same night, long after Elle had gone to bed, Nan sat alone at her old roll-top desk in the sewing room.

She opened a drawer.

Pulled out a sealed envelope, yellowed with age and tied with twine.

On the front, written in looping, delicate script:

To Elowen, when the spiral finds you

With trembling fingers, Nan untied the twine and unfolded the letter she had written years ago—just days after her daughter disappeared.

Dear Elowen,
If you’re reading this, then the Rift has stirred again.
I wish I could be the one to tell you all of this in person, but fate doesn’t always give us that choice.

You’ve probably already felt it—the pull. The whispers. The mark. The disc. The forest dreams. I know how terrifying it all feels. You’re not imagining any of it.

The Frostmark means you are a key. A soul tethered to a seal, passed down through our bloodline. Your mother was marked before you. And before her… I was the last to hold the tether.

There are things in this world that don’t belong in stories. Things that slip through cracks in the veil. The Rift is not a myth. It’s real—and growing.

But you are not alone.
A Guardian will find you. He won’t say it aloud. But you’ll know.

Trust your instincts, even when they feel like madness.

And please… trust yourself.

You are braver than your fear. Stronger than your doubt. Kinder than the shadows would have you believe.

With all my heart,
Nan

Nan folded the letter again, with care.

She placed it back into the envelope and tucked it into the wooden box, alongside the sketch, the feather, the locket.

Then closed the lid.

The seal had found Elle.

And the storm was coming.

Author’s Note
If you’ve made it here, you know the spiral isn’t just a symbol anymore—it’s a promise, a warning, and a path Elle can’t turn away from. Thank you for walking beside her into the fog. The next chapter will take you closer to the heart of the Rift… and closer to the truth Nan has been guarding all along.

-Raine Whitlock-