I slosh through a murky puddle and trudge over another mound of slushy snow, leaving my valenki darkened and damp. But chilled feet are the last of my worries. After all these hours of calling, of tramping through this stretch of Russian forest, I still haven’t found him.
“Father Frost!”
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Long ago in China, a boy named Yan ran as fast as he could, squinting against the westward sun as it cast shadows on the mountain path. A cry caught his attention. He looked up, seeing an old man perched on a rock and waving a tin cup.
“I’m thirsty,” the man said. “I cannot reach the stream below.
“Dougal wait! Yer da said we’re not supposed to play on Ben Binn. The fairies won’t like it!” Hamish sprinted after his cousin, the evening air nipping at his face.
“Don’t tell me ya believe in all that
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Aggravain brushed her fingers over the large mirror’s ornate silver frame. If the rumors were true, it would reveal her enemies. With it under her control, she’d be unstoppable, and it’d be worth every drop of blood spilled to obtain it.
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Cristilian drew a third deep breath, willing calmness into the deepest part of his being where perpetual anger burned.
Beyond the ornately carved doors, a cacophony of conversation and music marked a feast celebrating not only harvest completion but also victory
When Bard’s parents named him, they bestowed on him one of the greatest gifts in Valoria. Storytelling. Except that required him to speak in front of a crowd. And for Bard, that was a task as insurmountable as facing a dragon.
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Everyone dreams of finding their one true love at a grand ball. I happen to be at a grand ball at the moment, but there’s no time for Handsome Prince Sightseeing.
Only murder.
Don’t fret—I’m not here to take a life.
I’m here to kill dreams. It’s my duty.
The first thing that struck Rell was the silence. It wasn’t the absence of sound. No. The crowd still breathed, shifted, whispered. But the shape of it. A hollowed silence, like lungs emptied and waiting to be refilled. It gathered around the
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As usual, morning in the village was quiet. Until I saw Martha.
She was hauling boxes into the street outside her cottage. Everyone knew her as the widow who hadn’t left her home since her husband’s death five months ago. A porcelain lamp shattered against
The first ring came to me in the night, carried by servants of the Undead King, iron masks concealing their faces.
The bird was dying when I found it. When I stroked its soft head, I felt its life—a fierce little thing, bright as a
I’m not robbing the witch. Or so I told myself while creeping toward her cottage by moonlight. What used to be her cottage, really—she’d died the day before. Earlier that evening, I’d heard the chanting of her coven from my home. After the
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Something skittered under Avery’s bed.
Not again.
He opened his eyes. The bedroom door was cracked open, sending a thin line of hallway light over the bed. Across the room, the clock on Avery’s dresser showed 9:47 p.m. Its digital face illuminated the Captain America
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