The lake was silent, except for the slow ripple of wings brushing the surface like whispers in the dusk. Pale fog curled over the water's edge, silvering the reeds that swayed as if stirred by a breath not of this world. In the center of the stillness, a single white swan drifted, its neck curved in a sorrowful arch, its eyes too human to be natural.
Elara blinked against the last rays of sun as they vanished behind the trees. Her feathers itched — a familiar, hateful signal — and within seconds, her body folded inward, bones shifting, feathers melting, pain blooming behind her eyes until she was once more a girl. Naked, trembling, and alone on the shore.
She barely had time to reach for her cloak, hidden under a cluster of mossy stones, before a voice cut through the gloom.
"Not many dare come this far into the forest. Especially not at night."
Elara stiffened. Her fingers gripped the edges of her cloak tightly as she slowly turned. A man stood a few feet away, half-shrouded in shadows, his hand resting on the hilt of a blade. Not drawn — not yet — but not at ease either.
"I could say the same," she said, her voice raw from disuse. "People tend to stay away from cursed lakes."
The man tilted his head. The torchlight in his hand flickered against high cheekbones, sharp eyes, and hair as dark as the night sky above them. He looked young, but his gaze held weariness, as if he had lived more years than he should have.
"I heard stories," he said. "A woman trapped in the body of a swan. Some say she's a ghost. Others say she eats men."
Elara almost smiled. "And you came to see which is true?"
"No." He stepped closer. "I came because I was told you could grant wishes."
That made her laugh, bitter and brief. "Then you were lied to. I'm not a fairy. I'm not a witch. I'm just a girl who made a mistake."
He studied her, his gaze lingering on her bare feet, the way her cloak didn't quite hide the shimmer of feathers still retreating beneath her skin.
"I know about the curse," he said softly. "And I know who put it on you."
The amusement vanished from her face. "You speak bold words for someone who doesn't know what they mean."
"I do." He stepped forward again, then knelt, slowly, placing his torch in the earth. "And I've come to offer you a deal."
Elara's heart thudded. She had heard those words before — the night the sorceress appeared, her lips red with wine and cruelty, her eyes gleaming with secrets. That deal had cost Elara her freedom.
"No more deals," she said. "They never end well."
"This one might." He pulled a small pouch from his belt and unwrapped it. Inside was a feather — black as coal, shimmering with violet light. Not from a swan. Not from anything of this world.
Elara froze.
"That's—" Her throat tightened. "That belonged to her."
He nodded. "I stole it. Which means I've taken a piece of her power."
"You're insane."
"Maybe," he said. "But I can break your curse. If you help me in return."
Elara narrowed her eyes. "Help you do what?"
"Find her," he said. "The sorceress. I need to kill her."
Silence stretched between them. Somewhere far off, an owl hooted, and the breeze carried the scent of damp earth and wild violets.
"No one who's tried has come back alive," Elara whispered. "She can twist dreams. Turn flesh to stone. You'd be walking into death."
"She took something from me," he said, and now his voice trembled — not with fear, but fury. "I want it back."
Elara looked down at the feather. The air around it shimmered, as if reality bent to its presence.
If he was telling the truth — if he truly had a piece of the sorceress's essence — then maybe, just maybe, there was hope. After a hundred moons trapped in a cycle of feathers and fading nights, maybe this was more than a dream.
"You're a fool," she said quietly.
"Probably."
"You'll die."
"Maybe."
She reached out and closed his hand around the feather.
"Then I'll come with you," she said. "And when we find her, you'll keep your promise."
He nodded once, solemnly.
"The curse ends," Elara said, "or we both die trying."
The torch flickered in the wind, and far above them, the moon broke free from the clouds like a watchful eye.
And the pact was sealed.